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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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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Escaping The Flames by Dennis Lange

A faggot’s a stick picked for burning.
If you are a faggot, be turning
…From wood that you are
…To the Rock that won’t char
And ways that earn matches be spurning.

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© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2015.

 

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