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You must never tire fighting Satan.

quote by Abraham Cahan
Added by Lucian Velea
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Satan Absolved

(In the antechamber of Heaven. Satan walks alone. Angels in groups conversing.)
Satan. To--day is the Lord's ``day.'' Once more on His good pleasure
I, the Heresiarch, wait and pace these halls at leisure
Among the Orthodox, the unfallen Sons of God.
How sweet in truth Heaven is, its floors of sandal wood,
Its old--world furniture, its linen long in press,
Its incense, mummeries, flowers, its scent of holiness!
Each house has its own smell. The smell of Heaven to me
Intoxicates and haunts,--and hurts. Who would not be
God's liveried servant here, the slave of His behest,
Rather than reign outside? I like good things the best,
Fair things, things innocent; and gladly, if He willed,
Would enter His Saints' kingdom--even as a little child.

[Laughs. I have come to make my peace, to crave a full amaun,
Peace, pardon, reconcilement, truce to our daggers--drawn,
Which have so long distraught the fair wise Universe,
An end to my rebellion and the mortal curse
Of always evil--doing. He will mayhap agree
I was less wholly wrong about Humanity
The day I dared to warn His wisdom of that flaw.
It was at least the truth, the whole truth, I foresaw
When He must needs create that simian ``in His own
Image and likeness.'' Faugh! the unseemly carrion!
I claim a new revision and with proofs in hand,
No Job now in my path to foil me and withstand.
Oh, I will serve Him well!
[Certain Angels approach. But who are these that come
With their grieved faces pale and eyes of martyrdom?
Not our good Sons of God? They stop, gesticulate,
Argue apart, some weep,--weep, here within Heaven's gate!
Sob almost in God's sight! ay, real salt human tears,
Such as no Spirit wept these thrice three thousand years.
The last shed were my own, that night of reprobation
When I unsheathed my sword and headed the lost nation.
Since then not one of them has spoken above his breath
Or whispered in these courts one word of life or death
Displeasing to the Lord. No Seraph of them all,
Save I this day each year, has dared to cross Heaven's hall
And give voice to ill news, an unwelcome truth to Him.
Not Michael's self hath dared, prince of the Seraphim.
Yet all now wail aloud.--What ails ye, brethren? Speak!
Are ye too in rebellion? Angels. Satan, no. But weak
With our long earthly toil, the unthankful care of Man.

Satan. Ye have in truth good cause.

Angels. And we would know God's plan,
His true thought for the world, the wherefore and the why
Of His long patience mocked, His name in jeopardy.

[...] Read more

poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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My Redemption Poem

When satan fell,
for one wrong mistake.
He was thrown in hell,
it was all he could take.
For there was still light in him,
but with it was now doubt.
Upon his face grew a grin,
all he did was rage and shout.
He yelled to God 'Why did it have to be me? ',
but he didnt answer,
and satan did see.
That hell was his to rule,
with unimaginable pain,
he would truly be cruel.
To all the lost souls,
he was their Dark King.
With their blood in his bowl,
in their pain,
for him they would sing.
Over the eons he became insane,
but there was still light in him.
Hidden in a deep part of his soul,
a place he forgot to know.
And one day their blood spilled out of the bowl,
he felt something stir.
A sadness so deep,
with a pain so true.
He could never sleep,
so the pain was all he could know.
As he sat there,
with tears in his eyes,
he thought noone was there,
noone to hear his cries.
He heard a voice,
and this is what it said 'Son why do you cry? '
He couldnt believe what he heard,
and was voiceless.
God said 'Son your here by your own choice'.
And with that he felt,
in numerous times,
all the pain he had delt.
And now he seen,
that little light,
he could find that little gleam.
He fell to his knees,
for all to see.
He prayed to God,
saying 'Father can i be saved? '.
'Am i doomed to live a life in this darkness? '.
And God said to satan 'My son all you had to do was accept your choice',

[...] Read more

poem by Nick Wingler
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Jesus Power over Demons

Jesus' Power Over Demons
home » sermons » 06-24-07

June 24,2007 — The Fourth Sunday after Pentecost

“Jesus' Power Over Demons” — Pastor Lassman

Luke 8: 26-39

Listen

My Fellow Redeemed in Christ,

Do you believe in a real Satan? Do you believe that there are demons? I’m sure you do, but if you don’t you should. Of course, such things might seem strange in our scientific and technical world and many people don’t believe in Satan or evil spirits. And, being spirits, we cannot see Satan or demons. But the Bible talks a great deal about them. I’ve never seen Satan or a demon, but I believe in them not only because the Bible talks about them, but especially because Jesus Christ himself speaks about Satan and demons. In the church we often talk about sin and death, and rightly so. But we should never forget about Satan and his evil forces. For they go together: Satan, sin, and death as Martin Luther says in his Small Catechism about Jesus: “who has redeemed me a lost a condemned person, purchased and won me from all sin, from death….and from the power of the devil.” The power of the devil. That brings us to our gospel lesson where we see “Jesus’ Power Over Demons.”

I. In Jesus Christ the kingdom of God has come to attack and destroy the kingdom of Satan. When he began his public ministry at his baptism Jesus said: “repent, for the kingdom of God is at hand.”.

A. God, of course, had created a perfect world. This included what we would call the “good angels.” But some of those angels, led by their leader, Satan, were not happy with their position in God’s order: they wanted to be God. And in their evil rebellion against God they were transformed into demons who oppose God and all that he stands for. It was their leader, Satan, who showed up as a snake in the Garden of Eden to tempt Adam and Eve to also be like God. And so sin and death came into the world. Satan had invaded God’s world and trashed it. Demons are the source of the world’s superstitions and religions. Demons are the ones behind those who persecute and kill Christians. Demons are the ones behind all the false doctrines that divide the Christian church. With deception and lies they do all in their power to keep people from believing in Jesus Christ and to destroy the faith of those who already believe. Thus the Bible calls the devil our “enemy”. There is an underlying evil in the world that human beings are helpless to overcome. The demon possessed man in our text symbolizes all of this. But remember that every human being is born into this world under the influence of Satan and a member of his kingdom as the apostle John says in his first letter: ”the whole world is under the control of the Evil one.” When you and I were born in the world, we too were under the control of the evil one—enslaved to sin and death, under God’s wrath and damnation. Never forget that.

B. And that’s why Jesus came into the world: to attack and destroy the kingdom of Satan and save his people. He trashed the kingdom of Satan, defeating him and giving mankind victory over sin and death. You can hear the fear in the evil spirit’s voice: “what have you to do with me, Jesus, Son of the most high God.” They are filled with terror because they know that Jesus is stronger than they are. They are afraid of Jesus: “I beg you do not torment me.” They know that on the judgment day Jesus Christ will cast them into the fires of hell as we read in revelation: “and the devil..was thrown into the lake of burning sulpher, where the beast and the false prophet had been thrown. They will be tormented day and night.” And so the spirits begged Jesus not to send them “into the abyss.” The demon was afraid that that day had come. But it had not. So Jesus told them to leave the man and enter the pigs. And they had no choice but to do what he said. Now in our gospel Jesus only delivered one man from demon possession. But on the cross he delivered all of humanity, you and me, from Satan and his forces by dying for our sins. Because of Jesus Christ we never have to fear being possessed by a demon—for our bodies are the temple of God. Because of Jesus Christ we can resist the devil and his temptations—for in baptism we have been united to Jesus Christ. Because of Jesus Christ the devil cannot scare us with death or damnation—for all our sins are forgiven and we will be raised from the dead. Because of Jesus Christ the devil cannot deceive us with his lies because we know the truth. Paul says it all when he writes in Colossians: “for he has rescued us from the dominion of darkness and brought us into the kingdom of the Son he loves, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins.” (Col.1: 13) you and I have been rescued from Satan and his kingdom—he has no power over us.

II. But as always there are two responses to Jesus.

A. Regardless of the evidence, some people just won’t believe. We see this in our text. There were eyewitnesses to what had happened—the herdsmen who tended the pigs. And they went and told the city and the whole country-side what they had seen. Indeed, they created such a stir that many people went out to the spot where it happened to see for themselves. And there was Jesus- and the man sitting at his feet. And they saw with their own eyes the difference in him. He was no longer naked, but clothed; no longer out of his mind and violent, but calm and in his right mind. He was normal. Clearly, something profound and wonderful had happened. And now comes the strange response: “then all the people of the surrounding country…asked him to depart from them, for they were seized with fear.” What? ! Why did they say that? ! Couldn’t they see that Jesus had done something good, something kind, something merciful, something wonderful? Why did they ask him to leave? Did they care more about the pigs that were destroyed than they did for the well-being of this man? We are not told. But all through the gospels we hear of people who do not believe in Jesus even though they saw him doing miracles and wonderful acts of kindness. Perhaps we get a clue when just fourteen verses before our text Jesus says: “[these] are the ones who hear, and then the devil comes and takes away the words from their hearts so that they may not believe and be saved.” Many people prefer the kingdom of Satan. They like the darkness more than the light

B. But that wasn’t the response of the man from whom the demons left! He believed and was thankful for what Jesus had done for him. As a matter of fact, he was so grateful that he begged Jesus to go with him. But here’s another little surprise- Jesus said “no”. Instead he told him to return to his home and tell everyone what God had done for him. And that’s exactly what he did: he went home and told everyone what Jesus had done for him. I imagine that took a lot of faith. His emotions told him he wanted to be with Jesus. But he denied his emotions and instead did what Jesus told him to do. And so it is with us. We too are thankful for what Jesus has done for us. Every Sunday through the forgiveness of sins he gives us victory over sin and death and the power of Satan and the forces of evil. Such is the power of god’s forgiveness. We love coming here on Sunday mornings and being with Jesus and receiving his salvation. And yet as important as it is, we cannot sit in church all the time. Jesus wants us to return to our homes, our work, our schools—our communities and tell everyone what he has done.

Conclusion: when Jesus drove the demons out of that man Jesus attacked the kingdom of Satan. But when he died for the sins of the world Jesus destroyed Satan’s kingdom. And through faith in him we share in his victory. For Satan’s only weapons are lies, sin, and death. But in Jesus Christ we know the truth; in Jesus Christ our sin has been forgiven, and in Jesus Christ death has been defeated and we have life. Satan has no power over us. Indeed, we can resist him. And how do we know this is true? Well, we see Jesus casting out helpless demons who fear him and must obey him. But the main proof is the empty tomb. When Jesus was raised from the dead God’s hand was raised in victory over Satan and his kingdom. Everywhere the gospel of Jesus Christ is preached and taught the kingdom of Satan is trashed. And one day Jesus will return and cast Satan and all demons into the abyss that they fear so much. Amen!

Messiah Lutheran Church Seattle - Missouri Synod
7050 35th Avenue NE | Seattle, WA 98115 | (206) 524-0024
Questions or comments about this site can be sent to webmaster@messiahseattle.org
Copyright © 2008. Messiah Lutheran Church. All rights reserved.

poem by Mthokozisi Ntokozo Maphumulo
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Book the Second

Thou hearest the Nightingale begin the Song of Spring.
The Lark sitting upon his earthly bed, just as the morn
Apears, listens silent; then springing from the waving Corn-field loud
He leads the Choir of Day! trill, thrill, thrill, trill,
Mounting upon the wings of light into the great Expanse,
Reechoing against the lovely blue & shining heavenly Shell.
His little throat labours with inspiration; every feather
On throat & breast & wings vibrates with the effluence Divine.
All Nature listens silent to him, & the awful Sun
Stands still upon the Mountain looking on this little Bird
With eyes of soft humility & wonder, love & awe.
Then loud from their green covert all the Birds begin their Song:
The Thrush, the Linnet & the Goldfinch, Robin & the Wren
Awake the Sun from his sweet reverie upon the Mountain;
The Nightingale again assays his song, & thro’ the day
And thro’ the night warbles luxuriant, every Bird of Song
Attending his loud harmony with admiration & love.
This is a Vision of the lamentation of Beulah over Ololon.

Thou perceivest the Flowers put forth their precious Odours,
And none can tell how form so small a center comes such sweets,
Forgetting that within that Center Eternity expends
Its ever during doors that Og & Anak fiercely guard.
First, e’er the morning breaks, joy opens in the flowery bosoms,
Joy even to tears, which the
Sun rising dries; first the Wild Thyme
And Meadow-sweet, downy & soft, waving among the reeds,
Light springing on the air, lead the sweet Dance: they wake
The Honeysuckle sleeping on the Oak; the flaunting beauty
Revels along upon the wind; the White-thorn, lovely May,
Opens her many lovely eyes; listening the Rose still sleeps –
None dare to wake her; soon she bursts her crimson curtain’d bed
And comes forth in the majesty of beauty; every Flower,
The Pink, the Jessamine, the Wall-flower, the Carnation,
The Jonquil, the mild Lilly opes her heavens; every Tree
And Flower & Herb soon fill the air with an innumberable Dance,
Yet all in order sweet & lovely. Men are sick with Love.
Such is a Vision of the Lamentation of Beulah over Ololon.
And Milton oft sat upon the Couch of Death, & oft conversed
In vision & dream beatific with the Seven Angels of the Presence:
‘I have turned my back upon these Heavens builded on cruelty.
My Spectre still wandering thro’ them follows my Emanation;
He hunts her footsteps thro’ the snow & the wintry hail & rain.
The idiot Reasoner laughs at the Man of Imagination,
And from laughter proceeds o murder by undervaluing calumny.’
Then Hillel, who is Lucifer, replied over the Couch of Death,
And thus the Seven angels instructed him, & thus they converse:
‘We are not Individuals but States, Combinations of Individuals.
We were Angels of the Divine Presence, & were Druids in Annandale,
Compell’d to combine into Form by Satan, the Spectre of Albion,

[...] Read more

poem by William Blake from Milton (1810)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Street Fighting Man

Everywhere I hear the sound of marching, charging feet, boy
cause summers here and the time is right for fighting in the street, boy
Tell me what can a poor boy do
cept for sing for a rock n roll band
cause in this sleepy l.a. town
Theres just no place for a street fighting man
A street fighting man
A street fighting man
A street fighting man
Do you think the time is right for a palace revolution
Where I live the game to play is compromise solution
Well then what can a poor boy
cept for sing for a rock n roll band
cause in this sleepy l.a. town
Theres just no place for a street fighting man
A street fighting man
A street fighting man
A street fighting man
Well what else can a poor boy do?
Well what else can a poor boy do?
Well what else can a poor boy do?
Well what else can a poor boy do?
Hey my name is called disturbance
Ill shout and scream, Ill kill the king, Ill rail at all his servants
Well what can a poor boy do
For sing for a rock n roll band
In this sleepy l.a. town
Theres just no place for
For a street fighting man
A street fighting man
For a street fighting man
A street fighting man
For a street fighting man
A street fighting man
For a street fighting man
A street fighting man
For a street fighting man
A street fighting man
A street fighting man
A street fighting man
A street fighting man
A street fighting man
A street fighting man
A street fighting man
A street fighting man

song performed by Rage Against The Machine
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What Will Be Your Reward On Judgement Day?

All who choose their religion atheism.

Choose disbelief in the existence
of God. Non-belief these choose.

What when your final judgement has
been passed will Satan say to you?

Atheism was your deliberate choice.
Scepticism was your deliberate choice.
Desires of heart your deliberate choice.

Revelation. All the promises God made
were true all Satan made were lies.

Satan also made promises not kept not any.

Satan had no power over you.
Satan will abstain accept no blame.
Satan will claim he did nothing but tempt you.

Satan will say I did nothing but offer my way
you accepted my invitation in love of money.

Satan will say suckers blame not me blame yourselves.

On Judgement Day Satan will not help fallen you.
On Judgement Day Satan cannot help himself.
Nor can Satan help any of his millions of demons.

Satan will dissociate
himself from partnership
in all your sin before God.

Satan will demand
your wrong doing receive
a grievous torment.

Atheist, non-believer,
chooser of sweet tempting sin,
to your criminal plea;

that it was deceiver Satan,
who lead you astray,
Satan will plead guilty.

God made you promises.
God gave you warnings.
In conscience of your heart.

[...] Read more

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Life Is Just A Tire Swing

By: jimmy buffett
1974
I remember the smell of the creosote plant
When wed have to eat on easter with my crazy old uncle and aunt
They lived in a big house, antebellum style (antebellum)
And the winds would blow across the old bayou
And I was a tranquil little child
Chorus:
Life was just a tire swing
jambalaya was the only song I could sing
Blackberry pickin, eatin fried chicken
And I never knew a thing about pain
Life was just a tire swing
In a few summers my folks packed me off to camp
Yeah me and my cousin baxter in our pup tent with a lamp
And in a few days baxter went home and he left me by myself
But I knew that Id stay, it was better that way
And I could get along without any help
Chorus:
Life was just a tire swing
jambalaya was the only song I could sing
Chasin after sparrows with rubber-tipped arrows
Knowin I could never hurt a thing
Life was just a tire swing (tire swing)
And I never been west of new orleans or east of pensacola
My only contact with the outside world was an rca victrola
And elvis would sing and then Id dream about expensive cars
And who wouldve figured twenty years later
Id be rubbin shoulders with the stars
Life was just a tire swing
Then the other mornin on some illinois road
I fell asleep at the wheel
But was quickly wakened up by a ma bell telephone pole
And a bunch of grant wood faces screamin is he still alive?
Through the window I could see it hangin from a tree
And I knew that I had survived
And life is still a tire swing
jambalaya is the best song I can sing
Blackberry pickin, eatin fried chicken
But I finally learned a lot about pain
Life is just a tire swing (tire swing)
Life was just a tire swing (tire swing)
Life was just a tire swing (tire swing)
Life was just a tire swing (tire swing)

song performed by Jimmy Buffett
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The Dark Knight Comes Too Pass

The dark knight has come
Fighting for his moment
Fighting for his glory
Fighting for his thrown
Fighting is all he has ever known

From a mere boy
Being raised by the wolves
Living in the darkness for just too long
Something just went so wrong

The dark knight has come
Fighting for his moment
Fighting for his glory
Fighting for his thrown
Fighting is all he has ever known

Was it a death so desperately
Forever in misery
A loves tragedy
Is always so sad to see

The dark knight has come
Fighting for his moment
Fighting for his glory
Fighting for his thrown
Fighting is all he has ever known

The not so dead family
A murder held with in their arms
With no recourse
With no remorse

The dark knight has come
Fighting for his moment
Fighting for his glory
Fighting for his thrown
Fighting is all he has ever known

He's the alternate ending
As the light comes to pass
Shadows lurk
They shouldn't be disturbed
Let them rest in peace

The dark knight has come
Fighting for his moment
Fighting for his glory
Fighting for his thrown
Fighting is all he has ever known

[...] Read more

poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Paradise Lost: Book 10

Mean while the heinous and despiteful act
Of Satan, done in Paradise; and how
He, in the serpent, had perverted Eve,
Her husband she, to taste the fatal fruit,
Was known in Heaven; for what can 'scape the eye
Of God all-seeing, or deceive his heart
Omniscient? who, in all things wise and just,
Hindered not Satan to attempt the mind
Of Man, with strength entire and free will armed,
Complete to have discovered and repulsed
Whatever wiles of foe or seeming friend.
For still they knew, and ought to have still remembered,
The high injunction, not to taste that fruit,
Whoever tempted; which they not obeying,
(Incurred what could they less?) the penalty;
And, manifold in sin, deserved to fall.
Up into Heaven from Paradise in haste
The angelick guards ascended, mute, and sad,
For Man; for of his state by this they knew,
Much wondering how the subtle Fiend had stolen
Entrance unseen. Soon as the unwelcome news
From Earth arrived at Heaven-gate, displeased
All were who heard; dim sadness did not spare
That time celestial visages, yet, mixed
With pity, violated not their bliss.
About the new-arrived, in multitudes
The ethereal people ran, to hear and know
How all befel: They towards the throne supreme,
Accountable, made haste, to make appear,
With righteous plea, their utmost vigilance
And easily approved; when the Most High
Eternal Father, from his secret cloud,
Amidst in thunder uttered thus his voice.
Assembled Angels, and ye Powers returned
From unsuccessful charge; be not dismayed,
Nor troubled at these tidings from the earth,
Which your sincerest care could not prevent;
Foretold so lately what would come to pass,
When first this tempter crossed the gulf from Hell.
I told ye then he should prevail, and speed
On his bad errand; Man should be seduced,
And flattered out of all, believing lies
Against his Maker; no decree of mine
Concurring to necessitate his fall,
Or touch with lightest moment of impulse
His free will, to her own inclining left
In even scale. But fallen he is; and now
What rests, but that the mortal sentence pass
On his transgression,--death denounced that day?
Which he presumes already vain and void,

[...] Read more

poem by John Milton
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Fighting Hard

Rolling out to fight for England, singing songs across the sea;
Rolling North to fight for England, and to fight for you and me.
Fighting hard for France and England, where the storms of Death are hurled;
Fighting hard for Australasia and the honour of the World!
Fighting hard.
Fighting hard for Sunny Queensland—fighting for Bananaland,
Fighting hard for West Australia, and the mulga and the sand;
Fighting hard for Plain and Wool-Track, and the haze of western heat—
Fighting hard for South Australia and the bronze of Farrar’s Wheat!
Fighting hard.

Fighting hard for fair Victoria, and the mountain and the glen;
(And the Memory of Eureka—there were other tyrants then),
For the glorious Gippsland forests and the World’s great Singing Star—
For the irrigation channels where the cabbage gardens are—
Fighting hard.

Fighting hard for gale and earthquake, and the wind-swept ports between;
For the wild flax and manuka and the terraced hills of green.
Fighting hard for wooden homesteads, where the mighty kauris stand—
Fighting hard for fern and tussock!—Fighting hard for Maoriland!
Fighting hard.

Fighting hard for little Tassy, where the apple orchards grow;
(And the Northern Territory just to give the place a show),
Fighting hard for Home and Empire, while the Commonwealth prevails—
And, in spite of all her blunders, dying hard for New South Wales.
Dying hard.

Fighting for the Pride of Old Folk, and the people that you know;
And the girl you left behind you—(ah! the time is passing slow).
For the proud tears of a sister! come you back, or never come!
And the weary Elder Brother, looking after things at home—
Fighting Hard!
You Lucky Devils
!
Fighting hard.

poem by Henry Lawson
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The Litanies Of Satan

O you, the most knowing, and loveliest of Angels,
a god fate betrayed, deprived of praises,
O Satan, take pity on my long misery!
O, Prince of exile to whom wrong has been done,
who, vanquished, always recovers more strongly,
O Satan, take pity on my long misery!
You who know everything, king of the underworld,
the familiar healer of human distress,
O Satan, take pity on my long misery!
You who teach even lepers, accursed pariahs,
through love itself the taste for Paradise,
O Satan, take pity on my long misery!
O you who on Death, your ancient true lover,
engendered Hope – that lunatic charmer!
O Satan, take pity on my long misery!
You who grant the condemned that calm, proud look
that damns a whole people crowding the scaffold,
O Satan, take pity on my long misery!
You who know in what corners of envious countries
a jealous God hid those stones that are precious,
O Satan, take pity on my long misery!
You whose clear eye knows the deep caches
where, buried, the race of metals slumbers,
O Satan, take pity on my long misery!
You whose huge hands hide the precipice,
from the sleepwalker on the sky-scraper’s cliff,
O Satan, take pity on my long misery!
You who make magically supple the bones
of the drunkard, out late, who’s trampled by horses,
O Satan, take pity on my long misery!
You who taught us to mix saltpetre with sulphur
to console the frail human being who suffers,
O Satan, take pity on my long misery!
You who set your mark, o subtle accomplice,
on the forehead of Croesus, the vile and pitiless,
O Satan, take pity on my long misery!
You who set in the hearts and eyes of young girls
the cult of the wound, adoration of rags,
O Satan, take pity on my long misery!
The exile’s staff, the light of invention,
confessor to those to be hanged, to conspirators,
O Satan, take pity on my long misery!
Father, adopting those whom God the Father
drove in dark anger from the earthly paradise,
O Satan, take pity on my long misery!

poem by Charles Baudelaire
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The Vision of Judgment

I

Saint Peter sat by the celestial gate:
His keys were rusty, and the lock was dull,
So little trouble had been given of late;
Not that the place by any means was full,
But since the Gallic era 'eight-eight'
The devils had ta'en a longer, stronger pull,
And 'a pull altogether,' as they say
At sea — which drew most souls another way.

II

The angels all were singing out of tune,
And hoarse with having little else to do,
Excepting to wind up the sun and moon,
Or curb a runaway young star or two,
Or wild colt of a comet, which too soon
Broke out of bounds o'er th' ethereal blue,
Splitting some planet with its playful tail,
As boats are sometimes by a wanton whale.

III

The guardian seraphs had retired on high,
Finding their charges past all care below;
Terrestrial business fill'd nought in the sky
Save the recording angel's black bureau;
Who found, indeed, the facts to multiply
With such rapidity of vice and woe,
That he had stripp'd off both his wings in quills,
And yet was in arrear of human ills.

IV

His business so augmented of late years,
That he was forced, against his will no doubt,
(Just like those cherubs, earthly ministers,)
For some resource to turn himself about,
And claim the help of his celestial peers,
To aid him ere he should be quite worn out
By the increased demand for his remarks:
Six angels and twelve saints were named his clerks.

V

This was a handsome board — at least for heaven;
And yet they had even then enough to do,
So many conqueror's cars were daily driven,
So many kingdoms fitted up anew;

[...] Read more

poem by Byron
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Vision of Judgment, The

I

Saint Peter sat by the celestial gate:
His keys were rusty, and the lock was dull,
So little trouble had been given of late;
Not that the place by any means was full,
But since the Gallic era 'eight-eight'
The devils had ta'en a longer, stronger pull,
And 'a pull altogether,' as they say
At sea — which drew most souls another way.

II

The angels all were singing out of tune,
And hoarse with having little else to do,
Excepting to wind up the sun and moon,
Or curb a runaway young star or two,
Or wild colt of a comet, which too soon
Broke out of bounds o'er th' ethereal blue,
Splitting some planet with its playful tail,
As boats are sometimes by a wanton whale.

III

The guardian seraphs had retired on high,
Finding their charges past all care below;
Terrestrial business fill'd nought in the sky
Save the recording angel's black bureau;
Who found, indeed, the facts to multiply
With such rapidity of vice and woe,
That he had stripp'd off both his wings in quills,
And yet was in arrear of human ills.

IV

His business so augmented of late years,
That he was forced, against his will no doubt,
(Just like those cherubs, earthly ministers,)
For some resource to turn himself about,
And claim the help of his celestial peers,
To aid him ere he should be quite worn out
By the increased demand for his remarks:
Six angels and twelve saints were named his clerks.

V

This was a handsome board — at least for heaven;
And yet they had even then enough to do,
So many conqueror's cars were daily driven,
So many kingdoms fitted up anew;

[...] Read more

poem by George Gordon Byron
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True Soldier

You're off in war
While the love of your life is here
Be sure to come back
Be sure to come back for her
Don't forget the sights of our U.S.A.
The freedoms along with every privilege
Every privilege
Every privilege

(chorus)
You're fighting for freedom
You're fighting for rights
You're fighting to keep America in sight
Fighting for freedom
Fighting for rights
Fighting to keep my America in sight

Our affection is w/ you along w/ our pride
Keep us alive
Keep us alive
the tattoo on your arm reminds you of death
And friends who have died
The friend who has died

(chorus)
You're fighting for freedom
You're fighting for rights
You're fighting to keep America in sight
Fighting for freedom
Fighting for rights
Fighting to keep my America in sight

Down on her knees your mom prays for you
She's begging the Lord to bring you home safe
Come home safe
Please come home safe
Fly in the sky w/ all of your crew
Don't close your eyes the enemy stays true
You know what they can do
You know what they can do

(chorus)
You're fighting for freedom
You're fighting for rights
You're fighting to keep America in sight
Fighting for freedom
Fighting for rights
Fighting to keep my America in sight

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poem by Madi Lynn
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Waiting for you to tire

Ive been doing this since I was 12 years old
I remember rapping, standing in the freezing cold
Its funny cause we always said we would blow
I still feel the buzz from the crowd, I remember that show
you don't need to remind me I know it was four years ago
I can't forget the feeling I would get when I read back a rhyme I wrote on a page
Ill never forget that party, it was the first time I performed on a stage
and I know you remember cause you know we blew it away
they had their phones out, theyre hands up, they loved it, what can I say?
There was a place in my dreams a place I was trying to find
used to battle in school but the real battle was between my heart and mind
and I couldn't see what I was saying when I freestyled because I was blind
I was always thinking about the future but now all I wanna do is rewind
I keep playing back old recordings so I can find the fire
its like they want me to fail they're just waiting for me to tire...

Because this road you walk isn't as clear as it first seemed
they're just waiting for you to tire...
so you can no longer see the place that you have dreamed
they're just waiting for you to tire...
waiting for you to tire, waiting for you to tire.

But I'm not tired, I'm putting on a brave face
I don't like you being close, can't you you see I need my space?
Because if I don't say hello there will be no need to say good bye
cause every day I watch friends of mine as they slowly die
this messed up life is the reason that I started to write
and I used to enjoy this life until everyone started to fight
it all became one repeated battle that was no longer raw
and honestly I didn't like what it was all represented for
cause I left it all behind but you wouldn't go with me
too many people confused the rythm, they didn't understand the poety
and I promised myself I would never rap with you again
I started hearing a grime flow, so many people were doing it the same
and your doing a so called wifey tune when she'll never be your wife
your talking about guns and you've never seen one in your life
and the news is blaming rap again cause a youth was taken by a kinfe?
they're just waiting for me to tire as I keep trying to write...

Because this road you walk isnt as clear as it first seemed
theyre just waiting for you to tire...
so you can no longer see the place that you have always dreamed
theyre just waiting for you to tire...
waiting for you to tire, waiting for you to tire.

your entire life
you fight only to survive
you continue to strive
only to keep the hope you have alive...

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poem by Daniel McCann
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Tire Shop

I went down yesterday
to fix a leak in my tire. Off Bridge street
there's a place 95 cents
flats fixed,
smeary black paint on warped wood plank
between two bald tires.
I go in, an old Black man
with a Jackie Gleason hat greasy soft
with a mashed cigar stub in mouth
and another old Chicano man
working the other
pneumatic hissing tire changer. The walls are black with rubber
soot blown black dust everywhere
and rows of worn tires on gnawed board racks for sale,
air hoses snaking and looped over the floor.
I greet the two old men
'Yeah, how's it going!'
No response.
They look up at me as if I just gave them a week to live.
'I got a tire needs a tube.'
Rudy, a young Chicano emerges from the black part of the room
pony tailed and plump
walks me out to my truck and looks at the tire.
'It'll cost you five bucks to take off and change.'
I nod.
He tells the old Chicano, who pulls the roller jack
with a long steel handle outside,
and I wait in the middle of the grunting oval tire
changing machines,
while the old guy goes out and returns with my tire.
He looks at me like a disgruntled Carny
handling the ferriswheel
for the millionth time
and I'm just another ache in the arm,
a spoiled kid.
I watch the two old men work the tire machines
step on the foot levers that send the bars around
flipping the tire from the rim
and I wonder what brought these two old men to work here
on this gray evening in February –
are they ex-cons?
Drunks or addicts?
He whips the tube out,' Rudy ' he yells
and I see a gaping hole in the tube,
'Can't patch that,' Rudy says
Then in Spanish Slang says, 'no podemos pachiarlo,'
'we got a pile of old tubes over there, we'll do it for ten
dollars.'
At first I think he might be taking me
but I hedge away from that thought

[...] Read more

poem by Jimmy Santiago Baca
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Let Me Avenge Satan

Let me avenge Satan,
For tempting me all life;
He is the big Liar,
Who brought me all my strife.

Let me avenge Satan,
For accusing mankind;
He gives false promises,
And confuses each mind.

Let me avenge Satan,
For misleading all souls;
His craftiness is clear,
And wily are his roles.

Let me avenge Satan,
For giving me my woes;
He’s the fallen angel,
The Chief among my foes.

Let me avenge Satan,
For goading me to sin;
He‘s the source of evil,
Against whom I must win.

Let me avenge Satan,
For giving bad advice;
He is my betrayer,
Who lures all into vice.

Let me avenge Satan,
For setting snares for me;
He waits to ambush me
In my iniquity.

Let me avenge Satan,
For making my eyes dim;
And raising doubts in me,
And turning my life grim.

Let me avenge Satan,
For causing wars on earth;
And spreading hatred great,
Amongst siblings since birth.

Let me avenge Satan,
For telling just untruth; ;
And tempting Eve to eat,
The God-forbidden fruit.

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poem by John Celes
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Paradise Lost: Book 06

All night the dreadless Angel, unpursued,
Through Heaven's wide champain held his way; till Morn,
Waked by the circling Hours, with rosy hand
Unbarred the gates of light. There is a cave
Within the mount of God, fast by his throne,
Where light and darkness in perpetual round
Lodge and dislodge by turns, which makes through Heaven
Grateful vicissitude, like day and night;
Light issues forth, and at the other door
Obsequious darkness enters, till her hour
To veil the Heaven, though darkness there might well
Seem twilight here: And now went forth the Morn
Such as in highest Heaven arrayed in gold
Empyreal; from before her vanished Night,
Shot through with orient beams; when all the plain
Covered with thick embattled squadrons bright,
Chariots, and flaming arms, and fiery steeds,
Reflecting blaze on blaze, first met his view:
War he perceived, war in procinct; and found
Already known what he for news had thought
To have reported: Gladly then he mixed
Among those friendly Powers, who him received
With joy and acclamations loud, that one,
That of so many myriads fallen, yet one
Returned not lost. On to the sacred hill
They led him high applauded, and present
Before the seat supreme; from whence a voice,
From midst a golden cloud, thus mild was heard.
Servant of God. Well done; well hast thou fought
The better fight, who single hast maintained
Against revolted multitudes the cause
Of truth, in word mightier than they in arms;
And for the testimony of truth hast borne
Universal reproach, far worse to bear
Than violence; for this was all thy care
To stand approved in sight of God, though worlds
Judged thee perverse: The easier conquest now
Remains thee, aided by this host of friends,
Back on thy foes more glorious to return,
Than scorned thou didst depart; and to subdue
By force, who reason for their law refuse,
Right reason for their law, and for their King
Messiah, who by right of merit reigns.
Go, Michael, of celestial armies prince,
And thou, in military prowess next,
Gabriel, lead forth to battle these my sons
Invincible; lead forth my armed Saints,
By thousands and by millions, ranged for fight,
Equal in number to that Godless crew
Rebellious: Them with fire and hostile arms

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poem by John Milton
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Paradise Lost: Book 02

High on a throne of royal state, which far
Outshone the wealth or Ormus and of Ind,
Or where the gorgeous East with richest hand
Showers on her kings barbaric pearl and gold,
Satan exalted sat, by merit raised
To that bad eminence; and, from despair
Thus high uplifted beyond hope, aspires
Beyond thus high, insatiate to pursue
Vain war with Heaven; and, by success untaught,
His proud imaginations thus displayed:--
"Powers and Dominions, Deities of Heaven!--
For, since no deep within her gulf can hold
Immortal vigour, though oppressed and fallen,
I give not Heaven for lost: from this descent
Celestial Virtues rising will appear
More glorious and more dread than from no fall,
And trust themselves to fear no second fate!--
Me though just right, and the fixed laws of Heaven,
Did first create your leader--next, free choice
With what besides in council or in fight
Hath been achieved of merit--yet this loss,
Thus far at least recovered, hath much more
Established in a safe, unenvied throne,
Yielded with full consent. The happier state
In Heaven, which follows dignity, might draw
Envy from each inferior; but who here
Will envy whom the highest place exposes
Foremost to stand against the Thunderer's aim
Your bulwark, and condemns to greatest share
Of endless pain? Where there is, then, no good
For which to strive, no strife can grow up there
From faction: for none sure will claim in Hell
Precedence; none whose portion is so small
Of present pain that with ambitious mind
Will covet more! With this advantage, then,
To union, and firm faith, and firm accord,
More than can be in Heaven, we now return
To claim our just inheritance of old,
Surer to prosper than prosperity
Could have assured us; and by what best way,
Whether of open war or covert guile,
We now debate. Who can advise may speak."
He ceased; and next him Moloch, sceptred king,
Stood up--the strongest and the fiercest Spirit
That fought in Heaven, now fiercer by despair.
His trust was with th' Eternal to be deemed
Equal in strength, and rather than be less
Cared not to be at all; with that care lost
Went all his fear: of God, or Hell, or worse,
He recked not, and these words thereafter spake:--

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poem by John Milton
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My Almighty Comes To Defend With A Rescue

No more fighting battles.
No more fighting battles.
No more fighting battles from a saddle I no longer sit!
No more fighting battles.
No more fighting battles.

No more fighting battles from a saddle I no longer sit!
No more fighting battles.
No more fighting battles.

I...
Do believe,
My Creator has a plan for me.
Without those battles,
Fought straddled to a saddle.

And I don't,
Fight any battle
Strapped high on any saddle.

No I don't,
Fight any battle
Strapped high on any saddle.

My Almighty comes,
To defend
With a rescue.
And to fight my battles.
Those battles fought from saddles.

My Almighty comes,
To defend
With a rescue.
And to fight my battles.
Those battles fought from saddles.

No more fighting battles.
No more fighting battles.
No more fighting battles from a saddle I no longer sit!
No more fighting battles.
No more fighting battles.

No more fighting battles from a saddle I no longer sit!
No more fighting battles.
No more fighting battles.

My Almighty comes,
To defend
With a rescue.
And to fight my battles.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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