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Posts Tagged ‘devil’

A Texas cowboy lay down on a barroom floor,
Having drunk so much he could drink no more;
So he fell asleep with a troubled brain
To dream that he rode on a hell-bound train.

The engine with murderous blood was damp
And was brilliantly lit with a brimstone lamp;
An imp, for fuel, was shoveling bones,
While the furnace rang with a thousand groans.

The boiler was filled with lager beer
And the devil himself was the engineer;
The passengers were a most motley crew –
Church member, atheist, Gentile, and Jew,

Rich men in broadcloth, beggars in rags,
Handsome young ladies, and withered old hags,
Yellow and black men, red, brown, and white,
All chained together – O God, what a sight!

While the train rushed on at an awful pace –
The sulphurous fumes scorched their hands and face;
Wider and wider the country grew,
As faster and faster the engine flew.

Louder and louder the thunder crashed
And brighter and brighter the lightning flashed;
Hotter and hotter the air became
Till the clothes were burned from each quivering frame.

And out of the distance there arose a yell,
“Ha ha,” said the devil, “we’re nearing hell!”
Then oh, how the passengers all shrieked with pain
And begged the devil to stop the train.

But he capered about and danced for glee,
And laughed and joked at their misery.
“My faithful friends, you have done the work
And the devil never can a payday shirk.

“You’ve bullied the weak, you’ve robbed the poor,
The starving brother you’ve turned from the door;
You’ve laid up gold where the canker rust,
And have given free vent to your beastly lust.

“You’ve justice scorned, and corruption sown,
And trampled the laws of nature down.
You have drunk, rioted, cheated, plundered, and lied,
And  mocked at God in your hell-born pride.

“You have paid full fare, so I’ll carry you through,
For it’s only right you should have your due.
Why the laborer always expects his hire,
So I’ll land you safe in the lake of fire,

“Where you flesh will waste in the flames that roar,
And my imps torment you forevermore.”
Then the cowboy awoke with an anguished cry,
His clothes wet with sweat and his hair standing high.

Then he prayed as he never had prayed till that hour
To be saved from his sin and the demon’s power;
And his prayers and his vows were not in vain,
For he never rode the hell-bound train.

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*I must say that one does not become a Christian by
saying a “sinner’s prayer”.  Unfortunately, that is something
from the devil as well.

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ouorxtg

 

Thou dread, uncanny thing,
With fuzzy breast and leathern wing,
In mad, zigzagging flight,
Notching the dusk, and buffeting
The black cheeks of the night,
……With grim delight!

What witch’s hand unhasps
Thy keen claw-cornered wings
From under the barn roof, and flings
Thee forth, with chattering gasps,
……To scud the air,
And nip the ladybug, and tear
Her children’s hearts out unaware?

The glowworm’s glimmer, and the bright,
Sad pulsings of the firefly’s light,
Are banquet lights to thee.
O less than bird, and worse than beast,
Thou Devil’s self, or brat, at least,
Grate not they teeth at me!

——————————–

photo by Bartek Ambrozik at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/oUoRxTG/Bats

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My ole Mistiss promise me,
W’en she die, she’d set me free.
She lived so long dat ‘er head got bal’.
An’ she give out’n de notion a dyin’ at all. 

My ole Mistiss say to me:
“Sambo I’se gwine ter set you free.”
But w’en dat head git slick an’ bal’,
De Lawd couldn’ a’ killed ‘er wid a big green maul. 

My ole Mistiss never die,
Wid ‘er nose all hooked an’ skin all dry.
But my ole Miss, she’s somehow gone,
An’ she lef’ “Uncle Sambo” a-hillin’ up co’n. 

Ole Mosser lakwise promise me,
W’en he died, he’d set me free.
But ole Mosser go an’ make his Will
Fer to leave me a-plowin ole Beck still. 

Yes, my ole Mosser promise me;
But “his papers” didn’ leave me free.
A dose of pizen he’ped ‘im along.
May de Devil preach ‘is funer’l song.

 

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……………..Darkness

The lights blink out in this dark world;
A viral blackness spread
By a contagion devil-hurled,
With hearts its breeding bed.

The darkness never knows the light;
The two can’t co-exist.
Night’s never day, day never night;
Impossible a tryst.

Before light, darkness has no might;
A distant glimpse – it flees.
It cannot offer any fight,
Nor beg upon its knees.

The dark compares itself to night,
And rates itself quite high.
For blackness thinks that it is white
Since light is never nigh.

The Lord God’s like the brightest day,
No shadow or a cloud
Moves o’er His just and holy way.
No darkness is allowed.

So men who love the darkness flee;
They hide till He appears.
They will His brightness briefly see,
Then evermore shed tears.

——————————————

© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2014.

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Patrick Henry

Said Patrick:
Liberty or death,
Treat or trick.

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Devil At The Door 

How he works:
Treat, treat, treat, treat, treat,
Treat, treat, TRICK!

— 

Not one day.
He does it all days –
That’s scary!

 

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* The haiku I write are lines of 3-5-3 syllables instead of 5-7-5.

See Haiku article here for explanation, if needed: https://thebardonthehill.wordpress.com/2011/08/08/haiku/

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© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2014.

 

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…………Lucifer In Starlight

On a starred night Prince Lucifer uprose.
Tired of his dark dominion, swung the fiend
Above the rolling ball, in cloud part screened,
Where sinners hugged their specter of repose.
Poor prey to his hot fit of pride were those.
And now upon his western wing he leaned,
Now his huge bulk o’er Afric’s sands careened,
Now the black planet shadowed Arctic snows.
Soaring through wider zones that pricked his scars
With memory of the old revolt from Awe,
He reached a middle height, and at the stars,
Which are the brain of heaven, he looked, and sank.
Around the ancient track marched, rank on rank,
The army of unalterable law.

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English:

Counterfeit coin (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

 

       The Closest To The True

In trickery, pretenders take as thieves.
They look to Eden, follow serpent’s style.
The closest to the true is what deceives.

The cheat, by crafty counterfeit achieves,
And rakes the real away to his own pile.
By trickery, pretenders take as thieves.

By sleight of hand, they hide what’s up their sleeves –
A Caesar stabbed by friend with Brutus smile.
The closest to the true is what deceives.

Another’s nest, the cuckoo lays and leaves
Its egg to warm, then hatch, then raise the while.
By trickery, pretenders take as thieves.

Two seeds, almost the same, bring shock or sheaves.
A tare in place of wheat wins some by wile.
The closest to the true is what deceives.

A man or devil sits around, conceives
A change, an imitation, subtle guile.
By trickery, pretenders take as thieves.
The closest to the true is what deceives.

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* Parable of the wheat and tares – Matt.13

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© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2013.

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