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Worshipers fear the God
God men preach for wages.
Psalm singers sing for wages.
Shrines keepers work for wages.
Worshipers give them wages
And fear God more than they do.
17.07.2010
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wages Of Sin
When we fight and I wanna talk it out
You wont say nothing, nothing at all
You just sit there, you wont open that pretty mouth
I think you like keeping my back up against the wall
Wages of sin, you keep me paying
Wages of sin for wrongs that Ive done
Wages of sin, you keep me paying
Wages of sin, one by one
I walk in the apartment, theres clothes thrown all over the place
Youre crouched in the corner with makeup running down your face
I dont wanna believe what my heart keeps saying
You keep me on the line so you can keep me paying
Wages of sin, we keep paying
Wages of sin for the wrongs that weve done
Wages of sin, we keep paying
Wages of sin, thats how we have our fun
I remember when I was a little boy out where the cottonwoods grow tall
Trying to make it home through the forest before the darkness falls
Baby all the sounds I heard, even if they werent real
I was running down that broken path with the devil snapping at my heels
I tried so hard, so hard in every way
Swore someday Id grow up, just throw it all away
Cried all the tears, baby, that I could cry
Stomached all my fears till they came rushin up inside
Darlin Im losin and its a mean game
Still I play on and on just the same
Wages of sin, I keep paying
Wages of sin for some wrong that Ive done
Wages of sin, well I keep paying
Wages of sin, one by one
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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No business which depends for its existence on paying less than living wages to its workers has any right to continue in this country. By living wages I mean more than a bare subsistence level--I mean the wages of decent living.
quote by Franklin Delano Roosevelt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Epistle iii
What if the notions of leisure
and entertainment were defunct?
Celibacy, vegetarianism, tee-totality-
the Shavian trilogy, our game:
we'd certainly get more plays written.
In the new republic
the only sin will be to fail to see
that everything's just a point in a spectrum:
male-female; birth-death; darkness-light;
and the value traditionally given each point
a vestige: silly, feudal, invalid, agricultural,
and that we needn't work.
'No', say the 1%,
you must work and whelp!
the wages of wages are....more wages-
happiness consists in the accumulation of goods!
Happiness means-
(don't tell us, we'll tell you)
more soldiers. More workers.
The more of them, the cheaper the labor for us,
the more dependent, the more depleted you get
and the richer we get-
a good thing, no?
poem by Morgan Michaels
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Flee from It
Flee from it!
For it may easily lead you to your death;
And like the negative acts of the people around you,
But the wages of sin is death! !
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It's Death Again
It's Death again - He's always there -
Watching, waiting - e'er the stare!
Every time I look behind
Or reach to pull the window blind,
I catch a glimpse of grubby hood -
A little clue to where he stood;
The glint of light that caught the scythe.
Perhaps if I could pay a tithe…
But O! no use, he'll never go.
The adamant phantom; don't you know
He will but wait until it's time
For me to hear His fateful chime? -
The toll that claims my destiny,
To Hail: 'You're next, it has to be…'
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
The Reign of Death
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Disingenuousness
Here lies another box for nature,
Carbon ready;
Black to eyes down here,
Where death is at its job.
Up there you’ll hear a rhythmic sob
Or two from living yet-to-dies –
A humming lacrimoso –
It all but cleans the eyes:
Forget it –
The dismal show of grief –
Life is only chemistry –
Our stay is only brief.
It’s we who hype it up!
Diaphragms jerk again;
The jet monotone of hearses
Feeds the disingenuousness
Of undertakers –
They seem to stare at something up ahead –
For them, it’s in the blood,
To taxi off the dead.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011
The March of Death
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A study of the history of wages back through the years indicates clearly that when the cost-of-living rises appreciably wages have shortly been adjusted upward also.
quote by Charles E. Wilson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fleeting Times
Many men live life for the reward, and never seem to seek The Lord.
And the earnings that they gain, come with frustration and with pain.
The wages they desire to spend, do seem to come to an early end.
So men will seek a bigger door, always looking to earn much more.
The wages that they get my friend, seem to come to a sudden end.
Men fill their own heart with deceit; vainly imaging what life could be.
They follow many earthly dreams, which lead to deceptive schemes.
And with their eyes they cannot see, beyond this earth is an eternity.
Men follow unmet desires within, unaware that many do lead into sin.
All your wages don’t come into play, when speaking of judgment day.
For the only wages that do figure in, are the wages for all of your sin.
These wages secure eternal death, received upon your final breath.
Men seek from others earthly praise, never thinking of eternal days.
Accolades may lift your self esteem, however, what can they redeem.
All your works will come to naught, if Christ Jesus you never sought.
Christ had paid an enormous price, for men to have prosperous life.
But not one an earthly eye can see, for it is tucked away in eternity.
So why not get with it my friend, and start thinking on your final end.
Far above the present moment of time, is an Eternal World sublime.
Many men spend a life in pursuit, of what turns out to be bitter fruit.
This world slowly ceases to be, as we all move towards an eternity.
Time here is just fleeting away, in this world where no one will stay.
When you seek God in this life, God produces blessings in the strife.
And when you do follow The Lord, you shall reap an eternal reward.
They Aren’t Idle
One cannot but see or hear.
One cannot but smell or taste.
One cannot but feel the weather.
One does these without wages.
I cannot but opine or advice.
I cannot but praise or condemn.
I cannot but indulge in gossips.
I do these without wages.
Senses and ego can’t be idle.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In addition to joblessness, of course, by the working of supply and demand, when you have a larger number of people unemployed, wages do not rise at the normal level, so that we had last year a drop in real wages.
quote by Tim Bishop
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Death and I
When death comes
I’ll need not love –
Consumed,
No wreath or dove
Could offer me salvation,
Not when I’m no more.
A weathered stone will bear my name –
Identity of once a being
Living out existence in
A world of risk, and never seeing
Sense of why we’re here.
My genes will die away thro’ child –
Hue of eyes and hair, the way of thought,
Will quickly dim with generation –
Bow to future dominance –
Memories of provenance
Resigned to curious few.
When death comes
I’ll need not grace
Below; no grieving face
Will call my resurrection,
Not when I’m at ground –
Death and I so bound.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011
D eath Crawl
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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They say that the wages of sin is death. But after taxes its just a tired feeling really.
quote by Paula Poundstone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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White men have always controlled their wives' wages. Colored men were not able to do so until they themselves became free. Then they owned both their wives and their wages.
quote by Susan B. Anthony
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It is not the employer who pays the wages. Employers only handle the money. It is the customer who pays the wages.
quote by Henry Ford
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The wages of sin are death, but by the time taxes are taken out, it's just sort of a tired feeling.
quote by Paula Poundstone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Death, Inevitable Death
Death, inevitable Death.
So now You come to show Your world,
Hence the blackened cloak – unfurled.
And peering down upon my form
– Bereft of pity – Your eyes of storm.
Death, inexorable Death.
‘When? ’ The only question out of Thee.
My dream retorts 'But ne’er for me! ’
But now awake, I bid you so –
My giving tears cry ‘Where to go? ’
Death, adamant Death.
You cast Your spell and guide me 'way,
For life and I have had our day.
And what of me? I prey You, tell!
Be glorious in Heaven or gnarled in Hell?
Death, ineluctable Death.
Oh wiry ghoul, I'm here to follow –
I leave my body grey and shallow.
‘Come! ’ You bid in thund’ring tones,
‘Beg farewell to shattered bones.’
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
Death
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Death
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Stop These Killings
Blood is on your hands!
So, stop these killings and,
Let us all live in peace on this earth;
For, the wages of sin is death! !
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Fresh Endeavour
So now I've taken leave of life,
I thought you'd like to know, I still
Possess a mind in love, oh wife;
A soulful eye to catch a show of
Silent beauty – ever yours;
An ear to pick the metaphors
Of tonal dance in words you say,
Grasp a thought in verse you pray
Inside your head, bemused of mind,
Softly mournful, intertwined with
Understanding tears.
I'll drift a whisper o'er to you
To tell that I am quietly calm;
Keeping time till your adieu
To flesh, upon the carol of a
Psalm of consummation. Now!
A fresh endeavour – we're forever
One together, resting yonder,
Cross our open plane of blue.
Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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