Taken from a world of pain
Reprobate, sinner, vagabond the same.
Left their worries, their fears behind
To save their soul and clear their mind.
Deep within the world of green
Sits the church of the obscene.
Deeds done with secret desire
Raptures song by a dying choir.
A bitter taste makes mothers cry
To watch as their babies die.
In heaps the devoted shall lay
The greatest price each will pay.
And this day had come to be
The wicked day Mr. Jones served tea.
wow interesting
sounds like whats going on....to much of whats going on
a church on almost every corner of the ghetto but so much grief and strife ...
on point with this
Dear readers, this is my third book of poems, and inside are a special collection of what have turned out to be not only MY personal favorites, but also the favorites of many of YOU. Some of these have never been available in print before...
sounds like whats going on....to much of whats going on
a church on almost every corner of the ghetto but so much grief and strife ...
on point with this
Be safe,
Karen