Sonnet 130 – San Francisco by Dennis Allen Lange

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I thank you, God: You heard Your servant’s prayer,
My earnest plea that You hold back Your wrath
Upon the wicked city You will tear
To pieces by the seam that makes its path

Across its rotten flesh and wicked heart,
Whose mouth declares that You approve its sin,
That You approve the unborn ripped apart,
That You approve that men would lie with men.

And when Your fury shakes their darkest day,
I’m praying now that sinful men will know
That hea’en above and trembling earth below
Agreed upon the devastating blow.

I am no longer praying for delay;
Perhaps their cup of wrath is full today.

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© Dennis Allen Lange, 2019.

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Mere Warnings by Dennis Allen Lange

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Katrina, tsunami, quakes, and wind –
What more terrors will the great God send?
Trumpets that warn us; thunders that rumble
Wrath storms from heaven cause kingdoms to crumble. 

We’re mockers; we’re scoffers when told to “Repent”,
Yet woes and the warnings – both heaven sent.
But bad as they were, the worst is now nearing
Unless we start heeding and turn to God – fearing.

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Unless this nation repents and stops abortion murders of
the unborn (2500 per day), God will destroy us.   More
information is at my website: MineNotTheNine.com

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Photo by Dez Pain at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/nMPzAP0/Forked+Lightning

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© Dennis Allen Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2018.

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Indifference by Dennis Allen Lange

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The Germans, grown calloused to slaughter
Of Jewish man, wife, son, and daughter
…Could go on their way
…Not bothered all day
While just over there was the slaughter.

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We do the same regarding 2500 abortion murders per day.

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© Dennis Allen Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2018.

 

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Sonnet 75 – The Democratic Party by Dennis Allen Lange

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The unions still support because of greed;
The homos do, since by it they are blessed.
For power, it will make the nation bleed,
And even die so long as they are best. 

A shrill excuse and welfare sugarcoat,
A promise made to ope’ the nation’s store,
And greed-deceived, the Party buys their vote.
Then, at the ballot box, they play the whore. 

They’ll save the trees; they’re green – and kill the child,
The babe within that says you’re not your own,
That you can’t do all that you wish, be wild.
They’ll raise you up and take God from the throne. 

With sin the soul, and selfishness the core,
It ain’t your parents’ party any more.

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© Dennis Allen Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2017.

 

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