The Future Of America by Dennis Allen Lange

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The future of the land seems dark and bleak.
We kill the unborn child, the blameless.
We’ve crimson hands but not the crimson cheek. 

Position, power, self are what we seek.
The unborn are not wanted, nameless.
The future of the land seems dark and bleak. 

They are the helpless, weakest of the meek.
We’re Hitlers; they’re the Jews and claimless.
We’ve crimson hands but not the crimson cheek. 

Ones act by millions; millions for them speak.
The murder streak is wide and tameless.
The future of the land seems dark and bleak. 

We’re rootless, superficial, shallow, weak.
We’ve turned from God and so our lives are aimless.
We’ve crimson hands but not the crimson cheek. 

Our sins have ris’n to God and heav’n and reek.
We flaunt it to His face; we’re shameless.
The future of the land seems dark and bleak.
We’ve crimson hands but not the crimson cheek.

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photo by Constantin Jurcut at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/meSDQ0O/burning+3

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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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