What can an old harlot do but repent of her misdeeds?
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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...
Since deceit defeated will end these misdeeds.
An ending to the breaking all the rules,
Is coming...
Since deceit defeated will end these misdeeds.
Deceit defeated will end these misdeeds.
Oh...yes.
Deceit defeated will end these misdeeds.
Oh...yes.
Deceit defeated will end these misdeeds.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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If you would not step into the harlot's house, do not go by the harlot's door.
quote by Thomas Secker
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Repent And Be Converted
Repent and be converted,
For there is very little info of the seven heavens that we can see;
Repent and be converted,
For the third heaven is totally hidden from us at this time;
Repent and be converted,
For only a few will be saved in the long run!
But in this never-ending universe,
We need to be very wis in all that we do.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Retribution
I doubt seriously,
If anyone dances with glee...
To know someone has received a retribution,
Done for the doing of their misdeeds.
It's just in the doing of these misdeeds done,
Someone that does them...
Should realize the consequences paid,
Will to them someday come with no excuses made.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Lenten Thoughts
A time to reflect
On our lives
A time to deflect
Attention from mundane things
A time to repent
For all our misdeeds
A time to make peace
With our misguided friends
A time to abstain
From food and wine
A time to pray
For those in pain
A time to thank God
For all that we have
A time to pledge ourselves
To doing good whenever we can.
poem by Sandra Martyres
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Parental Guidance
Sang the Father to his only Son,
'Rejoice! Rejoice!
Before
your life's time has come
'fore it all
is said and done! Rejoice! Rejoice!
Rejoice! whilst thou remains
bless'd vigor and young!
Rejoice in all good humor and health!
Rejoice!
for the inherent miracle and wonder
of creation's living wealth!
Rejoice when thou hath come of age
and like time
I in physical have come to pass
remember to Rejoice then
my torch bearing son
Rejoice! Rejoice!
In singing the collective unborn
death surpassing carol of ONE! '
'Repent � Repent'
hush'd the warning of the mother
to her youngest tight warm wrapped
meek lap sitting
child
'Repent � Repent my timid little lambkin
today whilst thou remains innocent
and the sun doth shine
its ever youthful forgiving
smile
before the furious tempests
and fatherly stallions
of vengeance and wrath
over earth run wild
Repent... my child
Repent
Repent... Repent My tender babe
for every birth brings forth another
bless'd chance to be saved'
poem by Gregory Allen Uhan
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Surfacing Misdeeds
Those who proceed,
With their subtle campaigns...
To position themselves,
As a victim of another.
And the misdeeds they've done,
Have yet to be uncovered.
Will expose their objectives,
To be suspect.
Especially when the routines,
They use are often connected...
With the hiding,
Of those surfacing misdeeds.
As others take notice of their familiarity.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Repentance
"If you repent," the Parson said,"
Your sins will be forgiven.
Aye, even on your dying bed
You're not too late for heaven."
That's just my cup of tea, I thought,
Though for my sins I sorrow;
Since salvation is easy bought
I will repent . . . to-morrow.
To-morrow and to-morrow went,
But though my youth was flying,
I was reluctant to repent,
having no fear of dying.
'Tis plain, I mused, the more I sin,
(To Satan's jubilation)
When I repent the more I'll win
Celestial approbation.
So still I sin, and though I fail
To get snow-whitely shriven,
My timing's good: I home to hail
The last bus up to heaven.
poem by Robert William Service
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Pastor Bill Shiflett = ' Best Of The Rest
MEN CAN’T HELP BUT BE MEN!
It doesn't matter whatever their title
Men can't help but be men.
Some are better some are far worse
As they battle their weakness for sin.
Some triumph by goodness, servitude and faith
Others fall short because of ignorance, greed and hate.
Some realize their misdeeds and pray to repent
Where fools never change till it's past too late.
Thank Heaven for men who are eager to serve
Who labor for others and submit to God's will.
They depend on faith and its reliance on truth
To justify their blessings, glorify and fulfill.
Haunted By Their Own Misdeeds
One should never base their opinion given,
Received from another...
To judge someone else with purposes to defame.
The outcome to them delivered by such actions...
May not return the same to shame.
However...
The chances that the consequences faced,
Seldom embraces them to favor.
Since most people are often haunted,
By their own misdeeds.
Squeezing from their minds,
A comforting of rational sensibilities.
Left to themselves they are.
And abandoned.
To convalesce on their own alone.
And a wish to sleep peacefully at night,
Is rare.
As unfamiliar sounds come to creep in the silent air.
'Who's there? '
They are haunted by their misdeeds.
'I can hear your footsteps.'
They are haunted by their misdeeds.
'Slowly...as a stalking panther,
I can hear you coming up the stairs.'
They are haunted by their misdeeds.
And when the dawn comes to find them shaking,
Crotched in the corners to hide from darkened shadows...
Lifted.
It is soon discovered,
A door thought locked and bolted had been left open.
Leaving them to wonder...
How many visits like this will be repeated?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Sonnet: Change now for your soul’s good!
Oh how time flies and how most things can change!
The ones we thought were small, appear grown up!
Everything is so different and in range;
Gone are the days together, we did sup.
The heart of man too changes with the tide;
When ‘tis for worse, then man becomes unwise;
More so when he in God does not abide;
And soul is steeped in sins, misdeeds and vice!
Alas! How longer can you live in sin?
Hell is a place from which there’s no return!
And if we can’t over the devil win;
Forev’r with him in hell, we must then burn!
Our life on Earth is for Heaven but meant;
Now is the time to think aright, repent!
poem by John Celes
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Caribou
I live cement
I hate this street
Give dirt to me
I bite lament
This human form
Where I was born
I now repent
Caribou (3x)
Repent
Re-pe-ent
Give me wide
Ground to run
And foregone
Lets me knife
Knife me lets
I will get
What I like
Caribou (3x)
Repent
Rep-pent
song performed by by Pixies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It is much easier to repent of sins that we have committed than to repent of those that we intend to commit.
quote by Josh Billings
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Charlotte The Harlot '88
Dave Murray
Giving a swish with your arse in the air, don't you know what they're saying?
Charlotte you're so refined when you take all the love that they're giving.
Sticking with every man that you find, don't you know what they're after?
Charlotte you've got your legs in the air, don't you hear all the laughter?
*Chorus*:
Charlotte the Harlot show me your legs,
Charlotte the Harlot take me to bed.
Charlotte the Harlot let me see blood,
Charlotte the Harlot let me see love.
Taking so many men to your room, don't you feel no remorse?
You charge them a "fiver", It's only for starters.
And ten for the main course.
And you've got no feelings, they died long ago.
Don't you care who you let in?
And don't you know you're breaking the law with the service you're giving.
*Chorus*
There was a time when you left me standing there,
Picking up pieces of love off the floor.
Well Charlotte you left me alone in there,
To make your ends as a bloody whore.
Well Charlotte you told me you love me true,
Picking up pieces of love yesterday.
Well Charlotte you're draws are off color too
'Cause you're making love all day.
Giving a swish with your arse in the air, don't you know what they're saying?
Charlotte you're so refined when you take all the love that they're giving.
Sticking with every man that you find, don't you know what they're after?
Charlotte you've got your legs in the air, don't you hear all the laughter?
*Chorus*
song performed by by Iron Maiden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tom Zart's = MEN CAN’T HELP BUT BE MEN!
It doesn't matter whatever their title
Men can't help but be men.
Some are better some are far worse
As they battle their weakness for sin.
Some triumph by goodness, servitude and faith
Others fall short because of ignorance, greed and hate.
Some realize their misdeeds and pray to repent
Where fools never change till it's past too late.
Thank Heaven for men who are eager to serve
Who labor for others and submit to God's will.
They depend on faith and its reliance on truth
To justify their blessings, glorify and fulfill.
By God’s Poet
Tom Zart
Most Published Poet On The Web!
You'll repent if you marry, and repent if you don't.
Sonnet- Genes Matter But…
No longer secret's the genome of man!
The gene make-up of all beasts will be known;
Man's actions and misdeeds, alter none can,
Except man himself, using his mind own.
How can the new knowledge of genes prevent
The growing crimes against men in this world?
For his grave sins unless man can repent,
He will suffer in hell or when he's old.
The society's problems, man must resolve,
Thro' self-control and love of his neighbour;
By brotherhood of nations, man can solve,
Most of the problems and make earth better.
Knowing one's genes is not the solution;
Know thine own mind by self-realization.
poem by John Celes
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From A Verandah
(Sydney)
'Armageddon'
O CITY lapped in sun and Sabbath rest,
With happy face of plenteous ease possessed,
Have you no doubts that whisper, dreams that moan
Disquietude, to stir your slumbering breast?
Think you the sins of other climes are gone?
The harlot's curse rings in your streets — the groan
Of out-worn men, the stabbed and plundered slaves
Of ever-growing Greed, these are your own!
O'er you shall sweep the fiery hell that craves
For quenchment the bright blood of human waves:
For you, if you repent not, shall atone
For Greed's dark death-holes with War's swarming graves!
poem by Francis William Lauderdale Adams
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Saint John Baptist
THE last and greatest Herald of Heaven's King,
Girt with rough skins, hies to the deserts wild,
Among that savage brood the woods forth bring,
Which he than man more harmless found and mild.
His food was locusts, and what young doth spring
With honey that from virgin hives distill'd;
Parch'd body, hollow eyes, some uncouth thing
Made him appear, long since from earth exiled.
There burst he forth: 'All ye, whose hopes rely
On God, with me amidst these deserts mourn;
Repent, repent, and from old errors turn!'
--Who listen'd to his voice, obey'd his cry?
Only the echoes, which he made relent,
Rung from their marble caves 'Repent! Repent!'
poem by William Henry Drummond
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If God loves you, you’re saved
If sinful, joyous paths, you undertake;
You cannot go far as God watches you;
If God forbids, such journeys, you can't make;
He gives men freedom; punishments also.
God knows man errs so often by nature;
His pangs of sinful passions, desires;
And does these things if mature, immature;
While devils tempt; man slips into mires.
But not for long as God pulls him afree;
His guilt and conscience make him to repent;
Atonement makes his soul pure, again free;
To make up for misdeeds, now man gets bent.
The love of God for man's soul is so great;
That devils cannot sow discord or hate.
poem by John Celes
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