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Too much politeness conceals deceit.

Chinese proverbs
Added by Lucian Velea
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Breaking All The Rules

You don't know what I know, do yah.
Do yah, do yah.

Deceit defeated will end all misdeeds.

You don't know what I know, do yah.
Do yah, do yah.

Deceit defeated will end all misdeeds.

You'll be stopped from braking all the rules.
And...
Stopped from doing tricky things you do.

You don't know what I know, do yah.
Do yah, do yah.
You don't know what I know.

You don't know what I know, do yah.
Do yah, do yah.
You don't know what I know.

Many want it kept pursued,
The...
Duping and the suckering to fool,
THEY DO!

You don't know what I know, do yah.
Do yah, do yah.
You don't know what I know.

You don't know what I know, do yah.
Do yah, do yah.
You don't know what I know.

An ending to the breaking all the rules,
Is coming soon...
With deceit defeated.
With deceit defeated.
And...
None of it to be repeated deeds.

I can feel it!

You don't know what I know, do yah.
Do yah, do yah...
Deceit defeated will end these misdeeds.

An ending to the breaking all the rules,
Is coming...

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Coming Down Hard On Crime

They're coming down hard on crime.
And this you can believe.
All eyes will open wide.
And deceit and thieves,
Will cease to be.

So hold your head erect!
And know this will happen soon.
And sing a happy song.
Knowing we'll soon be crook free!

Come from behind those bushes,
Children.
Come...
Come sing along with me!
The 'boogeyman' is gone.

They're coming down hard on crime.
Sing...
('Coming down hard on crime...')
And this you can believe.
('This we can believe...')
I think you've got it.
All eyes will open wide
('Our eyes are open wide...
And deceit and thieves have ceased to be.')

Very nice!

Yes...
Deceit and thieves.
('Yes deceit and thieves')
Yes...
Deceit and thieves.
('Yes deceit and thieves')

YES...
DECEIT and THIEVES.
('DECEIT and THIEVES')
Together and raise our voices high!
YES...
DECEIT and THIEVES...
HAVE CEASED
TO
BE!

Marvelous children!
Wasn't that a 'happy tune'?

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Someone Deceit Free and Not a Greedy Needer

I want somebody worthy!
Trusting and a friend.
Someone deceit free,
And not a greedy needer.

I want somebody worthy...
Trusting and a friend
Someone deceit free,
And reeks of honesty.

My needs are simple and I make no demands.
My right hand knows,
What my left is doing.

I want someone who knows just where they stand.
And if they should fall...
Get right back up on their feet,
To hit the breeze.

I want somebody worthy!
Trusting and a friend.
Someone deceit free,
And not a greedy needer.

I want somebody worthy...
Trusting and a friend
Someone deceit free,
And reeks of honesty.
Is that 'one'
For me!

My needs are simple and I make no demands.
My right hand knows,
What my left is doing consciously.

I want someone who knows just where they stand.
And if they should fall...
Get right back up on their feet,
To hit the breeze.

I want somebody,
Who will not compromise with defeat!
I want somebody,
Who has stopped trying to find enemies.

Someone deceit free and not a greedy needer,
Is for me.
Someone deceit free and not a greedy needer,
Is for me.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Letter of Cupid

Cupido, unto whos commandement
The gentil kinrede of goddes on hy
And peple infernal been obedient,
And the mortel folk seruen bisyly,
Of goddesse Sitheree sone oonly,
To alle tho that to our deitee
Been sogettes greetinges senden we.

In general, we wole that yee knowe
That ladies of honour and reverence
And other gentil wommen han ysowe
Swich seed of complainte in our audience
Of men that doon hem outrage and offense
That it our eres greeveth for to heere,
So pitous is th' effect of hir mateere;
And passing alle londes on this yle
That clept is Albioun they moost complaine;
They sayn that ther is croppe and roote of guile,
So can tho men dissimulen and faine
With standing dropes in hir eyen twaine,
Whan that hir herte feeleth no distresse.
To blinde wommen with hir doublenesse,

Hir wordes spoken been so sighingly
And with so pitous cheere and contenance,
That every wight that meeneth trewely
Deemeth that they in herte han swich greuance.
They sayn so importable is hir penance

That but hir lady list to shewe hem grace
They right anoon moot sterven in the place.

"A, lady min," they sayn, "I yow ensure,
Shewe me grace and I shal evere be,
Whiles my lif may lasten and endure,
To yow as humble in every degree
As possible is, and keepe al thing secree
As that yourselven liketh that I do;
And elles moot min herte breste on two."

Ful hard is it to knowe a mannes herte,
For outward may no man the truthe deeme
Whan word out of his mouth may ther noon sterte,
But it sholde any wight by reson queeme
So is it seid of herte, it wolde seeme.
O faithful womman, ful of Innocence,
Thou art betrayed by fals apparence!

By procees wommen, meved of pitee,
Weening al thing were as that tho men saye,

[...] Read more

poem by Thomas Hoccleve
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Tale XVII

RESENTMENT.

Females there are of unsuspicious mind,
Easy and soft and credulous and kind;
Who, when offended for the twentieth time,
Will hear the offender and forgive the crime:
And there are others whom, like these to cheat,
Asks but the humblest efforts of deceit;
But they, once injured, feel a strong disdain,
And, seldom pardoning, never trust again;
Urged by religion, they forgive--but yet
Guard the warm heart, and never more forget:
Those are like wax--apply them to the fire,
Melting, they take th' impressions you desire;
Easy to mould and fashion as you please,
And again moulded with an equal ease:
Like smelted iron these the forms retain,
But once impress'd, will never melt again.
A busy port a serious Merchant made
His chosen place to recommence his trade;
And brought his Lady, who, their children dead,
Their native seat of recent sorrow fled:
The husband duly on the quay was seen,
The wife at home became at length serene;
There in short time the social couple grew
With all acquainted, friendly with a few;
When the good lady, by disease assail'd,
In vain resisted--hope and science fail'd:
Then spoke the female friends, by pity led,
'Poor merchant Paul! what think ye? will he wed?
A quiet, easy, kind, religious man,
Thus can he rest?--I wonder if he can.'
He too, as grief subsided in his mind,
Gave place to notions of congenial kind:
Grave was the man, as we have told before;
His years were forty--he might pass for more;
Composed his features were, his stature low,
His air important, and his motion slow:
His dress became him, it was neat and plain,
The colour purple, and without a stain;
His words were few, and special was his care
In simplest terms his purpose to declare;
A man more civil, sober, and discreet,
More grave and corteous, you could seldom meet:
Though frugal he, yet sumptuous was his board,
As if to prove how much he could afford;
For though reserved himself, he loved to see
His table plenteous, and his neighbours free:
Among these friends he sat in solemn style,
And rarely soften'd to a sober smile:

[...] Read more

poem by George Crabbe
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Beat Down Those Creeps Found

Beat down,
The creeps found.
Sleazing in discreet,
With misdeeds they release.

Beat down,
The creeps found...
Sneaking as they 'peep' who to feed defeat.
Ripping up the streets with their brand of deceit.

Beat down,
The creeps found.
Sleazing in discreet,
With misdeeds they release.

Beat down,
The creeps found...
Sneaking as they 'peep' who to feed defeat.
Ripping up the streets with their brand of deceit.

Get to caring.
And sharing.
With those you held close.
And love the most.
With forgiving that can come...
And forgetting what was done!
When they weren't the only ones...
Lieing on the run!

Get to caring.
And sharing.
Don't wait to repay...
A 'shade' somebody gave to you,
That you should let fade away!

Beat down,
The creeps found.
Sleazing in discreet,
With misdeeds they release.

Beat down,
The creeps found...
Sneaking as they 'peep' who to feed defeat.
Ripping up the streets with their brand of deceit.

Forgive and forget what was done,
When they weren't the only ones lieing on the run!
Or sleazing in discreet with misdeeds they release!
You don't have to be like that to whoever you meet.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Canto the Sixteenth

I
The antique Persians taught three useful things,
To draw the bow, to ride, and speak the truth.
This was the mode of Cyrus, best of kings --
A mode adopted since by modern youth.
Bows have they, generally with two strings;
Horses they ride without remorse or ruth;
At speaking truth perhaps they are less clever,
But draw the long bow better now than ever.

II
The cause of this effect, or this defect, --
"For this effect defective comes by cause," --
Is what I have not leisure to inspect;
But this I must say in my own applause,
Of all the Muses that I recollect,
Whate'er may be her follies or her flaws
In some things, mine's beyond all contradiction
The most sincere that ever dealt in fiction.

III
And as she treats all things, and ne'er retreats
From any thing, this epic will contain
A wilderness of the most rare conceits,
Which you might elsewhere hope to find in vain.
'T is true there be some bitters with the sweets,
Yet mix'd so slightly, that you can't complain,
But wonder they so few are, since my tale is
"De rebus cunctis et quibusdam aliis."

IV
But of all truths which she has told, the most
True is that which she is about to tell.
I said it was a story of a ghost --
What then? I only know it so befell.
Have you explored the limits of the coast,
Where all the dwellers of the earth must dwell?
'T is time to strike such puny doubters dumb as
The sceptics who would not believe Columbus.

V
Some people would impose now with authority,
Turpin's or Monmouth Geoffry's Chronicle;
Men whose historical superiority
Is always greatest at a miracle.
But Saint Augustine has the great priority,
Who bids all men believe the impossible,
Because 't is so. Who nibble, scribble, quibble, he
Quiets at once with "quia impossibile."

[...] Read more

poem by Byron from Don Juan (1824)
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Don Juan: Canto The Sixteenth

The antique Persians taught three useful things,
To draw the bow, to ride, and speak the truth.
This was the mode of Cyrus, best of kings--
A mode adopted since by modern youth.
Bows have they, generally with two strings;
Horses they ride without remorse or ruth;
At speaking truth perhaps they are less clever,
But draw the long bow better now than ever.

The cause of this effect, or this defect,--
'For this effect defective comes by cause,'--
Is what I have not leisure to inspect;
But this I must say in my own applause,
Of all the Muses that I recollect,
Whate'er may be her follies or her flaws
In some things, mine's beyond all contradiction
The most sincere that ever dealt in fiction.

And as she treats all things, and ne'er retreats
From any thing, this epic will contain
A wilderness of the most rare conceits,
Which you might elsewhere hope to find in vain.
'Tis true there be some bitters with the sweets,
Yet mix'd so slightly, that you can't complain,
But wonder they so few are, since my tale is
'De rebus cunctis et quibusdam aliis.'

But of all truths which she has told, the most
True is that which she is about to tell.
I said it was a story of a ghost--
What then? I only know it so befell.
Have you explored the limits of the coast,
Where all the dwellers of the earth must dwell?
'Tis time to strike such puny doubters dumb as
The sceptics who would not believe Columbus.

Some people would impose now with authority,
Turpin's or Monmouth Geoffry's Chronicle;
Men whose historical superiority
Is always greatest at a miracle.
But Saint Augustine has the great priority,
Who bids all men believe the impossible,
Because 'tis so. Who nibble, scribble, quibble, he
Quiets at once with 'quia impossibile.'

And therefore, mortals, cavil not at all;
Believe:--if 'tis improbable you must,
And if it is impossible, you shall:
'Tis always best to take things upon trust.
I do not speak profanely, to recall

[...] Read more

poem by Byron
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Psychological Warfare

This above all remember: they will be very brave men,
And you will be facing them. You must not despise them.

I am, as you know, like all true professional soldiers,
A profoundly religious man: the true soldier has to be.
And I therefore believe the war will be over by Easter Monday.
But I must in fairness state that a number of my brother-officers,
No less religious than I, believe it will hold out till Whitsun.
Others, more on the agnostic side (and I do not contemn them)
Fancy the thing will drag on till August Bank Holiday.

Be that as it may, some time in the very near future,
We are to expect Invasion ... and invasion not from the sea.
Vast numbers of troops will be dropped, probably from above,
Superbly equipped, determined and capable; and this above all,
Remember: they will be very brave men, and chosen as such.

You must not, of course, think I am praising them.
But what I have said is basically fundamental
To all I am about to reveal: the more so, since
Those of you that have not seen service overseas—
Which is the case with all of you, as it happens—this is the first time
You will have confronted them. My remarks are aimed
At preparing you for that.

Everyone, by the way, may smoke,
And be as relaxed as you can, like myself.
I shall wander among you as I talk and note your reactions.
Do not be nervous at this: this is a thing, after all,
We are all in together.

I want you to note in your notebooks, under ten separate headings,
The ten points I have to make, remembering always
That any single one of them may save your life. Is everyone ready?
Very well then.

The term, Psychological Warfare
Comes from the ancient Greek: psycho means character
And logical, of course, you all know. We did not have it
In the last conflict, the fourteen-eighteen affair,
Though I myself was through it from start to finish. (That is point one.)
I was, in fact, captured—or rather, I was taken prisoner—
In the Passchendaele show (a name you will all have heard of)
And in our captivity we had a close opportunity
(We were all pretty decently treated. I myself
Was a brigadier at the time: that is point two)
An opportunity I fancy I was the only one to appreciate
Of observing the psychiatry of our enemy
(The word in those days was always psychology,
A less exact description now largely abandoned). And though the subject

[...] Read more

poem by Henry Reed
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Telephone Conversation

Wednesday, January 23,2008
Week 10: Telephone Conversation by Wole Soyinka

Week 10 Dividing lines: Differences in Class, race, Gender and Ideology

Telephone Conversation
by Wole Soyinka

The price seemed reasonable, location
Indifferent. The landlady swore she lived
Off premises. Nothing remained
But self-confession. 'Madam, ' I warned,
'I hate a wasted journey—I am African.'
Silence. Silenced transmission of
Pressurized good-breeding. Voice, when it came,
Lipstick coated, long gold rolled
Cigarette-holder pipped. Caught I was foully.
'HOW DARK? '... I had not misheard... 'ARE YOU LIGHT
OR VERY DARK? ' Button B, Button A.* Stench
Of rancid breath of public hide-and-speak.
Red booth. Red pillar box. Red double-tiered
Omnibus squelching tar. It was real! Shamed
By ill-mannered silence, surrender
Pushed dumbfounded to beg simplification.
Considerate she was, varying the emphasis-
'ARE YOU DARK? OR VERY LIGHT? ' Revelation came.
'You mean-like plain or milk chocolate? '
Her assent was clinical, crushing in its light
Impersonality. Rapidly, wave-length adjusted,
I chose. 'West African sepia'-and as afterthought,
'Down in my passport.' Silence for spectroscopic
Flight of fancy, till truthfulness clanged her accent
Hard on the mouthpiece. 'WHAT'S THAT? ' conceding
'DON'T KNOW WHAT THAT IS.' 'Like brunette.'
'THAT'S DARK, ISN'T IT? ' 'Not altogether.
Facially, I am brunette, but, madam, you should see
The rest of me. Palm of my hand, soles of my feet
Are a peroxide blond. Friction, caused-

[...] Read more

poem by Tamilarasi Shalu
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Bushido

[Bushido]

1._ Justice
Apply justice, when time is right.
Crooked, unfair actions to denounce,
Be ready to accurately strike.
Before action be wise, on balance.
-

2._ Courage
Courage is virtuous on righteousness,
a sacrifice to unworthiness is odd,
defend correct values with ableness,
admitting mistakes with mind bold.
-

3._ Benevolence
Love, affection, sympathy for another,
combined with an excellence of mind,
highest soul's attributes and character,
are Princely, manly virtues and kind.
-

4._ Politeness
Politeness, courtesy, excellent manners,
abide in a man's soul. But a poor virtue,
when actuated by fear or to elude others.
It must stem Sympathy towards truth.
-

5._ Veracity
Truth is a manly act, falsity dishonors,
lying is a cowardly act and unworthy,
A man's word is enough to guarantee honors,
as veracity is analogous to worthy.
-

6._ Honor
An honorable person acts humbly in manners.
Lack of honor, disrespectfully expands.
Qualities of honor, are the Bushido banners,
and a valid cure to soul's and mind's scars.
-

7._ Loyalty
A man must know to be loyal to his family,
teachers, fellow men, arts and sciences.
Never forget who lifted him to act aptly,
when qualities are applied on issuances.

poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Politeness

The English and the French were met
Upon the field of future battle;
The foes were formidably set
And waiting for the guns to rattle;
When from the serried ranks of France
The English saw with woeful presage
Under a flaming flag advance
A trumpeter who bore a message.

'Twas from their Marshal, quite polite,
Yet made the English leader shiver.
"We're perched," said he, "upon the height,
While you're exposed beside the river.
We have the vantage, you'll agree,
And your look-out is melancholy;
But being famed for courtesy
We'll let you fire the starting volley."

The English General was moved,
In fact his eyes were almost tearful;
Then he too his politeness proved
By writing back: "We are not fearful.
Our England is too proud to take
The privilege you thrust upon her;
So let your guns in thunder break:
To you, M'sieu, shall be the houour."

Again a note the Marshall sent
By envoy for his battle station:
"Your spirit wins my compliment,
Your courage my appreciation.
Yet you are weak and we are strong,
And though your faith is most inspiring,
Don't let us linger all day long -
Mon General, begin the firing."

"How chivalrous the soul of France."
The English General reflected.
"I hate to take this happy chance,
But I suppose it's what's expected.
Politeness is a platitude
In this fair land of gallant foemen."
So with a heart of gratitude
He primed his guns and cried: "Let's go men!"

The General was puzzled when
No answer came, said he: "What is it?
Why don't they give us hell?" And then
The herald paid another visit.
The Marshall wrote: "to your salute

[...] Read more

poem by Robert William Service
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The Best Kept Secret

The view outside
The best kept secret
No one can reach it
No one believes
Its in the air
A chance to run now
So here I come now
Its time to leave
Who can remember just who is the leader
A soft spoken showman, accepted, encouraged
While under the cities the shuffle of money is speaking
The power of choice is the power of reason
The power of voice is the key to the world
So now just count the times that the chill in their words
Leaves you freezing
Tell me youre safe
That Im not dreaming
No night thoughts screaming
No face in the rain
For the first time
The view is clearing
No longer fearing
The shadow of pain
A certain smile conceals the highest card
Beyond this place the rains are falling hard
Someone somewhere
The voice you never hear
Salvation ringing clear
Always ahead
Please help me now
To see the blazing light
The stars return tonight
Burning so red
Who can remember just who is the leader
A soft spoken showman, accepted, encouraged
While under the cities the shuffle of money is speaking
The power of choice is the power of reason
The power of voice is the key to the world
So now just count the times that the chill in their words
Leaves you freezing
A certain smile conceals the highest card
Beyond this place the rains are falling hard
Falling hard
Falling hard

song performed by Heaven 17
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Phenomenon

How dark the night has become
that even the Southern Cross fades away
for hours before daybreak

and with it all the other stars are gone
as if this darkness swallows everything
and even the moon is under siege

and stargazers wonder what awaits humanity
while the darkness challenges their science and equipment
and how dark night has become.

No science can explain it and there is something unreal
from which this darkness comes that even conceals the sun
as if this darkness swallows everything

and this phenomenon draws the attention of the whole of humanity
and there are politicians making wild theories
for hours before daybreak

and religious leaders get upset
since the secular world does not comprehend the impact
from which this darkness comes that even conceals the sun

and they lay charge after charge
and there are deliberated with the key question:
how dark the night has become?

Preachers rise and are convinced that man does not serve God right
and that judgement is at hand
since the secular world does not comprehend the impact

and that something is going to hit earth with a bang
and the destiny of man is loudly lamented
for hours before daybreak

as if God is deciding the lot of man,
as if the universe has come to a standstill
and the judgement is at hand

and people even think of an outer space invasion
and alarmed they drive up and down.
How dark the night has become
for hours before daybreak

and the darkness just keeps on and on
and with it all the other stars are gone
as if the universe has come to a standstill
and even the moon is under siege.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Seven deadly sins

Greed 1

Those who consume more than they need.
Must surely merit punishment.
In time will suffer for their greed.
Those who consume more than they need
With selfishness their only creed
to others peoples detriment.
Those who consume more than the need
must surely merit punishment.

Envy 2

To covet that which you do not have,
leads to a life of misery
best to be content with your lot
To covet that which you have not
for envy of no matter what.
To covet that which you have not,
leads to a life of misery.

Lust 3

Succumb to lust, a foolish game.
A trap into which most may fall.
If pleasure is their only aim.
Succumb to lust a foolish game
an urge, the wise ones try to tame
.For empty pleasures soon must pall.
Succumb to lust a foolish game,
a trap into which most may fall.

Gluttony 4

A glutton will refill his plate
he lives to eat. Not eats to live
His tastes are far from delicate.
A glutton will refill his plate,
his appetite he cannot sate
He eats to prove he is alive.
A glutton will refill his plate
He lives to eat. Not eats to live

Anger. 5

Intemperate he shows his rage.
His wrath conceals his mortal fear.
His fury merely camouflage.
Intemperate he shows his rage.

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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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An Ode in Blessed Memory

1
A sudden bliss has seized my mind,
And to a mountain peak it carries me
Up where the wind's forgotten how to stir the trees;
The deepest valley lies in silence.
Perceiving something, quiet goes the brook
That used to babble without cease
When rushing swiftly down the hill.
There, they are braiding laurel wreaths
And word is spread to every side;
Smoke curls up from the fields afar.

2
Do I see Pindus down below me?
I hear the pristine sisters' songs!
With flame Permessian I burn,
I strive in haste toward their visage.
They've given me the healing water:
Drink, and forget your every toil;
Rinse out your eyes with dew Castalian.
Beyond steppes and mountains cast your gaze,
Direct your soul toward those lands
Where morning breaks upon dark night.

3
Just like a ship 'midst raving waves
That threaten to engulf it,
Severs their frothing caps,
And clings steadfastly to its course
Amidst the raging silver foam,
Its wake ablaze across the deep:
Thus did the hordes of Tatars haste
Around to meet the Russian force;
Cavalry steam obscures the sky!
What happens then? They're felled at once.

4
Love for the Fatherland empowers
The souls and hands of Russian sons;
They each desire to spill their blood,
They draw their strength from sounds of war.
How does the mighty lion scare
A wolf pack baring poison teeth
Showing ferocious, gleaming eyes?
His roaring quakes the woods and shore,
His tail churns up the dust and sand,
Uncoiling mightily, he strikes.

5
Is it bronze thunder in Mount Etna's breast,

[...] Read more

poem by Mikhail Vasilyevich Lomonosov
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Mahaveer preaches

Anger, Pride, Deceit and Greed
Are the four flaws you denounce,
Said the saint Mahaveer,600 B.C.
Anger spurts when pride is at stake.
Pride reacts when deceit steps in.
Deceit lurks as greed sets in.

Greed is born of insecurity.
Faith in you can remove it.
Faith in God also removes it.
You can live serene, rich or poor.
28.04.2001, Pmdi
[Mahaveer is of Jain Religon,
Which flourished in India, ahead of Vedic Religion]
[e, m, c, i, n

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Wherever

Verse 1:
Wherever you may hide
The flashing lights of evil you can't fight
And they will hurt you
Hurt you
most every night
Whatever you may try
The shadows of your crimes they won't go by
Nightmares will haunt your mind
And you will find
They'll never die
Chorus:
Wherever you may go there's no escape
The memories in your soul you can't reshape
Wherever you're livin'
There's no forgivin
Cos you're guilty of deceit
Whatever you may do there's no release
The pain deep down inside will never cease
You're even lying
When you're crying
Cos your heart is filled with hate
Wherever you will be you'll meet your fate
Verse 2:
Whenever you feel free
You'll find out that you've got no chance to flee
Remember only
The lonely
Know what you've done
Whatever you may say
You know you'll never wash your sins away
You will forever
Bear those brandings
You're the one
Chorus:
Wherever you may go there's no escape
The memories in your soul you can't reshape
Wherever you're livin'
There's no forgivin
Cos you're guilty of deceit
Whatever you may do there's no release
The pain deep down inside will never cease
You're even lying
When you're crying
Cos your heart is filled with hate
Wherever you will be you'll meet your fate
Chorus:
Wherever you may go there's no escape
The memories in your soul you can't reshape
Wherever you're livin'

[...] Read more

song performed by Vanilla Ninja
Added by Lucian Velea
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Striving For What?

Rivers of people come and go, on roads of life they’ve come to know,
Fully involved in a daily routine, across our land, is a common scene.
Striving daily to make ends meet, in a world that is filled with deceit.
What seems to govern this life, much corruption behind all the strife.

Everything seems to be sold at a price, as was our Lord Jesus Christ.
Do you know a Judas my friend, oblivious to The Lord and the end?
Willing to sell God for some change, in a life that is quite deranged.
It could be one close to your side, with a lingering darkness to hide.

Evil men wax worse and worse, influenced by sin’s dreaded curse,
As seducers continue to deceive, and attack those who truly believe.
All their deceptive practice and ways, bring many trouble filled days.
And all of their deceit in the end, brings undue trial to innocent men.

As soon a quiet everyday life, becomes filled with troublesome strife.
And your peaceful daily routine, becomes a hectic unwanted scene.
The fruit of deceptive schemes, has been the end of many a dreams.
But soon all these men of deceit, will be brought down in total defeat.

But you can transform this life, by walking with the man Jesus Christ.
Christ will give you a new mind, one that will go on through all time.
Accept in your heart Jesus Christ, and Jesus will give you New Life,
Friend, a life of Joy, you will see, as your hope moves on to Eternity.

Present grief will be in the past, as Christ gives you life that will last,
As we leave earth’s river of strife, we’ll see the Eternal River of Life.
No longer a routine of despair, for soon we will be caught in the air,
Where we will meet with The Lord, and live with Christ forevermore.

poem by Bob Gotti
Added by Poetry Lover
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Psalm 12

The saint's safety and hope in evil times.

Lord, if thou dost not soon appear,
Virtue and truth will fly away;
A faithful man amongst us here
Will scarce be found, if thou delay.

The whole discourse, when neighbors meet,
Is filled with trifles loose and vain;
Their lips are flattery and deceit,
And their proud language is profane.

But lips that with deceit abound
Shall not maintain their triumph long;
The God of vengeance will confound
The flattering and blaspheming tongue.

"Yet shall our words be free," they cry;
"Our tongues shall be controlled by none:
Where is the Lord will ask us why?
Or say our lips are not our own?"

The Lord, who sees the poor oppressed,
And hears th' oppressor's haughty strain,
Will rise to give his children rest,
Nor shall they trust his word in vain.

Thy word, O Lord, though often tried,
Void of deceit shall still appear;
Not silver, sev'n times purified
From dross and mixture, shines so clear.

Thy grace shall in the darkest hour
Defend the holy soul from harm;
Though when the vilest men have power,
On every side will sinners swarm.

poem by Isaac Watts
Added by Poetry Lover
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