The Dead Sea rolls within its waste
Salt so sick you cannot taste
You will not find a fishing boat
The sea's so saline you can float
The water flows into its shores
But there's no outlet anymore
So there it sits. Its water rank.
It seems God cursed it, so it shrank.

There's another place that you can see
It is the Sea of Galilee
Fishing boats by the score
Of different colors line its shore
If seafood dining is your wish
They catch great numbers of good fish
It has the Jordan running there
And there's an outlet that is fair
And so it lives and gives to us
It is blessed and is not cursed.

Watch and see the greedy man
He has his ways he has his plans
He loves his wealth and hates the poor
Though they are starving at his door
He takes and takes and does not give
But that's no way for us to live
And like King Midas with his gold
He is cursed when he is old

Look and see his counterpart
He loves to give for he is smart
He shares his goods,
helps those who grieve
He does not give just to receive
Not only family, but the needy
He is wise he is not greedy
His river flows, has much to share
So he is Rich Beyond Compare.

He's as the Sea of Galilee
Full of life. Fair and free!

But the miser pays his toll
Upon his grave the Dead Sea rolls.


SoulSurvivor
(C) 8/15/2016

Paradise Child is
The world of different
Meaning like paradise
Is vacation
Sometimes poet and poetress
Need a plan called "paradise"
But to get that you
Have to able to feel comfortable
And wisdom.

I tell myself that
I am a Paradise child
To show the universe
That I am who I am
Looking for more information
Contained who is the Paradise
Child?

Paradise is Child
Child is Paradise
Paradise and the world are two
Things I love
And I hope that I am the
Paradise Child.

                      By K-mari ©2016

blank white page:
prompt that yoosh pomp thatchyoo do;
he'll stoop he'll stomp his frill till it's

shelved, docu'd
spelled out,
to the point of mellifluous flu.

his coy is beggining to cloy.
but it stirs still.

he wants the inside of his alonebones to atone
for the unimaginable thing he has to do.

hero that doesn't  
want to know
tragedy is real.

You are like shards
Of broken glass
That I am still picking out of my skin.

Everytime I think you're gone,
I shift a little
And feel more pieces of you
Working their way in.

Our doubts are already forming a library
with thousands of books rising high above the wall

Alow her open pinion's
I glanced aloft mine
View;

Her nimbus was lit
And around her Lip's:
Heaven's color's
Renewed.

O' the strap's from mine feet
Were removed, as I fell
Back in awe and
Wonder.

I remember the day
I saw her face, the innocence
Of God, the beauty and
Splendor.

Into her tropical gates
I entered yonder;

She gave me her love
As tis her love I took shelter.

Mine darling, mine lass; O'
Best friend, mine helper;

What wouldst I do, without
Thee mine Muse;

What wouldst I do;
O' what wouldst I
Do.

©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane Sardua nagley dedicated( agapi mou)

above the naked sea,
the wind’s blue
castles
raise their
drawbridges
of air.