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406 · Jan 2021
Orange Man Rides
ConnectHook Jan 2021
Darkness slays the sun. Descending, he dies.
To hide his glowing countenance and wait;
Until his resurrection flood our skies
With promise of a greater solar state
.

Oh mourn and weep, ye gaining shades of night;
An orange sunset lingers in the west.
The trumpet sobs a reveille; the light
Is dwindling on the presidential fest.
And cypresses are sighing in their shame
For Orange Man has forfeited his game.

The technocrats and leftists, as a mass
Opposed his righteous reign with godless spite.
Not once did they relent, but dogged his ***
In jackal-packs still slavering to bite.
And yet he is deplorably adored,
Nor friend nor foe politically bored.

Vile virtue-signalers (with none to show),
Despised all those who dared support his plan;
And prideful with each whining coward blow
Confirmed themselves inferiors to the man.
Pink feminists, at odds with all that's right
Displayed themselves as ******* in the fight.

They could not stand the mention of his name.
The Globalists and other Euro-trash,
With Luciferian bankers, void of shame,
Resume their one-world plotting in a flash;
Preparing for re-set. (We wish they would
Let God reset them for their own **** good.)

So DRUMPF's Fourth ***** must sadly reach its end,
And Jared's **** wife return her shoes.
His Völkisch warriors shall no more defend
Republics that weak RINOs all refuse;
And Milquetoast Mitt, and Bush, his parting hail
Grown tired of winning, longing yet to fail.

My Einsatzgruppen uniform: no more
To wear the holy garment in my pride.
My shimmering hood and robe I now must store;
Well-pressed, I lay them tearfully aside.
My lynching rope I coil with loving care,
My Ku-Klux armband nevermore to wear.

Alas, the fascist father-figure goes;
His bigot minions, all my own, lament.
Misogynists and racists at the close
Have lost their weary way and all is spent.
He wasn't dictatorial enough;
We all grew tired of winning. It was tough.

But wait; a zephyr stirs the orange grove.
The dusk has not yet sighed its final breath:
Once more a scent of citrus wafts above . . .
Twas' premature, their festival of death.
Then TRUMP arises, grinning, from the bier
And all who wished him gone recoil in fear.

Fresh horror now the adversaries sweeps;
The trembling crypts foreshadow his rebirth.
Progressive politics despairs and weeps
While liberal dread supplants their vengeful mirth.
Then Donald rises, leering like a ghost
To fill with panic every heartless host
.

Mere hopium, this horror-movie plot.
It looked like he might pull it off— but no.
Now darkness teaches light what it is not
And half the nation jeers at him to go.
Healing urged—but fake. Polarization
Shall characterize our waning nation.

Hopes of resurrection vanish with night. 
The scapegoat's legions waken from the dream
To seek nocturnal solace from the fight:
The tepid normie water's middle stream.
And Q-**** numerologists learn code.
(The rest of us just wonder what we're owed.)

Saint Orange must diminish, half-impeached;
And sunset velvet now becomes his hue.
The ballot urns of Georgia never reached;
Our judges sat to stifle what we knew.
The monoparty's monkeys steal the show;
His puppet masters hiss him. Let him go.

Now Dixie's juiceless orchards sing his dirge.
The willows hang their boughs in leafless grief . . .
Disgust for all the traitors starts to surge;
And clown-world tries but cannot bring relief.
Orange Savior's promise: undelivered;
The funeral expires—and all is withered.
Thanks to my muse for alternate stanzas !
https://connecthook.net/2021/01/05/orange-man-returns/
404 · Jan 2018
Global Renewal
ConnectHook Jan 2018
Another false prophet, another beast --
Another peace process for the Middle East . . .
Another massacre, a newer war;
A bright new scarlet global *****.
Another poem, another curse
A further plunge from worst to worse . . .
Another sociopathic brute,
Another ***** in a business suit.
Another smiling psychopath;
Another angel's bowl of wrath
Another data-driven plan
To twist yet further fallen man . . .
A bolder data-driven lie
As LUCIFER ascends the sky,
Another depression, another bust--
In MAMMON we supremely TRUST !
€£¥$ all hail MAMMON
GLOBAL ABOMINATION
lol take a selfie !
404 · Oct 2018
Circle K Limerick
ConnectHook Oct 2018
Finally justice is done, and it passes
enraging the Socialist masses.
They’ve appointed a judge
and we won’t hold a grudge—
we’ll just pray that they round up your *****.
Circle K was once a real brand.
The kind cowboys use on beef.
Like "round-roast round-up"
ConnectHook Jul 2018
Evil empires, controlled by banks;
Committee mandates enforced with tanks,
Sociopaths on the Left and the Right
Prepare for your own eternal night . . .
Those who do not know their own history are doomed to watch YouTube all day long ☺
398 · Jul 2017
Beatific Soporific
ConnectHook Jul 2017
Do tell us
your rare experiences.
Make it all about you.
The colors you beheld,
the love you lost,
the torment you possess...
tell us all about it.
Hallow
your shallow
suffering
(and ours as well).
free-verse vomitings for your erudite perusal
397 · Feb 2021
Solomonic Haiku
ConnectHook Feb 2021
All is vanity.
(Easy for the king to say
Between concubines . . .)
But king Solomon loved many strange women, together with the daughter of Pharaoh, women of the Moabites, Ammonites, Edomites, Zidonians, and Hittites:

Of the nations concerning which the Lord said unto the children of Israel, Ye shall not go in to them, neither shall they come in unto you: for surely they will turn away your heart after their gods: Solomon clave unto these in love.

And he had seven hundred wives, princesses, and three hundred concubines: and his wives turned away his heart.

For it came to pass, when Solomon was old, that his wives turned away his heart after other gods: and his heart was not perfect with the Lord his God, as was the heart of David his father.

1 Kings 11: 1-4
396 · Apr 2020
Handmaiden of the Lord
ConnectHook Apr 2020
Eternal salvation’s a gift

From a righteous young maid in a shift

Who had never been laid;

By God’s Spirit: hand-made

was her baby, our burdens to lift.
PROMPT #20: write a poem about a handmade gift that you have received.

I spent this afternoon watching SHE (1965 Hammer version) with my daughter because I was dreading trying to rise to the challenge of this prompt. I wound up with a half-baked limerick based on Luke 1:37, 38
"For with God nothing shall be impossible.
And Mary said,
Behold the handmaid of the Lord;
be it unto me according to thy word.
And the angel departed from her."
396 · Jun 2017
Peace
ConnectHook Jun 2017
My Soul, there is a country
Afar beyond the stars,
Where stands a winged sentry
All skillful in the wars;
There, above noise and danger
Sweet Peace sits, crown’d with smiles,
And One born in a manger
Commands the beauteous files.
He is thy gracious friend
And (O my Soul awake!)
Did in pure love descend,
To die here for thy sake.
If thou canst get but thither,
There grows the flow’r of peace,
The rose that cannot wither,
Thy fortress, and thy ease.
Leave then thy foolish ranges,
For none can thee secure,
But One, who never changes,
Thy God, thy life, thy cure.
Henry Vaughn (1621-1695)
395 · Apr 2023
Woke Triolet
ConnectHook Apr 2023
The wokeness is so deep: they're sleeping.
Clueless legions are on the march . . .
Ignorance has Wisdom weeping;
The wokeness is so deep they're sleeping
Through the harvest, and the reaping.
Behold the view from Titus's arch:
The wokeness is so deep they're sleeping—
Clueless legions are on the march.
PROMPT #4 
try writing triolets. A triolet is an eight-line poem.
All the lines are in iambic tetramenter (for a total of eight syllables per line),
and the first, fourth, and seventh lines are identical, as are the second and final lines.
This means that the poem begins and ends with the same couplet.
392 · Apr 2018
Latin Roots
ConnectHook Apr 2018
Oh what have you done to your lovely hair,
streaking with insult those glorious strands ?
Of God-given beauty so unaware
that you've put it to death by other's hands.

Tinted with sorrow in a dying fall:
your sultry darks exchanged for tainted blonde—
a chemical crown, clueless overhaul;
false gold, a dull glory now gone beyond.

Liberate your lustrous locks, set them free
to gather grace and claim their natural right
as God ordained; thus you were meant to be.
But lightening streaks do terrify the night.
Now I'm gonna write
An American Haiku:
TRUMP 2020 !
388 · Apr 2018
Boomtowns Gone Bust
ConnectHook Apr 2018
When nations give God the *******,
Remnants of his bronze-age wrath may linger
And mess with investments or data-plans
Or gender (both the mother’s and the man’s).
National cycles of slow boom then bust
Reveal the limitations of our dust—
And the Lord who prospers may change, and curse
From behind the facade of our universe.
A tech-addled farce: that’s the dying face
Of our graceless, depraved and inhuman race
Glowing with sin; lit up by tiny screens
Upon which the globalist ends and means
Seep into clueless souls. These dead-in-life
With which our funereal times are rife,
Live for online shopping, Facebook, and sports
Immune to all the incoming reports
That their doom is hastening on its way
Inexorable progress, no delay . . .
With the Sovereign Lord, there is no plan B
For the tools of a godless technocracy.
Twilight’s wind now stirs.
In sacred grove leaves tremble . . .
Shoot. Lost my **** keys
388 · Sep 2020
Limeriqs
ConnectHook Sep 2020
The deplorable oracle Q
has the wicked unsure what to do.
And fake news can't control
What the masses extol;
The awakening rises on cue.


The crumbs have been scattered. Q spoke
what the media thought was a joke . . .
Q's disciples? Deplorable.
Quite unadorable,
spreading and massively woke.
Look out !
Q conspiracists are EVERYWHERE.
They look like normal ‘Muricans.
Rushing in where angels fear to tread,
“Where They Go 1 They Go All”.
385 · Apr 2017
Vehicular Futility
ConnectHook Apr 2017
You read the sign—
but you do not drive
like your kids live here:
in neighborhoods of family love.
Where children play
while you push the pedal.

Pump that bass…
narcissist fool.
Scowl like a ****,
you noise polluter
(another twenty-something commuter)
flooring it
towards a club
towards a red light
in the dead night
of your dim bulb.
Save it
for your kid’s first car.
Get over yourself—
save yourself, get saved
and then:
live like your kids drive here!
Self-absorbed young folks
in your devilish contraptions:
chill out. Read Haiku

NaPoWriMo # 19
385 · Nov 2019
Surly Aliens
ConnectHook Nov 2019
Sullen she sits
in her shimmering fabric
scowling at her adoptive nation.
Listlessly scrolling
for soap-opera news
in her language.
Half-hidden behind the register
where she sells something every few hours
to someone from her country
purchasing those weird snacks:
dried minnows with mango,
fish with curried betel-nut,
tamarind-flavored dried shrimp . . .

Hey lady, you look funny
with that white paste
smeared all over your face.
You look like a ghost.
Did Buddha make you put it on?

Hey lady, don't you know how to smile
and serve the public?
Maybe you should learn English.

Why did you come here, anyway?
'Er petticoat was yaller an' 'er little cap was green,
An' 'er name was Supi-yaw-lat - jes' the same as Theebaw's Queen,
An' I seed her first a-smokin' of a whackin' white cheroot,
An' a-wastin' Christian kisses on an 'eathen idol's foot:
Bloomin' idol made o' mud
Wot they called the Great Gawd Budd
Plucky lot she cared for idols when I kissed 'er where she stud!
On the road to Mandalay...

(lines from some English poet)
385 · Jun 2018
Wagnerian Trumpets
ConnectHook Jun 2018
No Cyrus he, this Angloid king from Queens;
In hate, they big him up to take a fall.
His eagle visage loads the magazines
Provoking hissy-fits of Fake-News gall.
Despised by half; notorious to all
And goading on his foes' hysteric scenes
A hail of ****** insults hits the wall
Unleashed by frothing cows and clueless teens.
Such overused hyperbole grows weak,
And tirades, through inflation, lose their worth
To finally miss the target that they seek—
While nations on the face of God's green earth
(countries that define themselves with borders)
Appallingly parade their own disorders.
A shekel for your thoughts:
https://www.cbsnews.com/news/israel-trump-coin-honours-recognition-jerusalem-as-capital/
ConnectHook Aug 2021
Bots over here
Bots over there
Many AI persona
Are convincing
For real-time solution
And boost those site stat!
Bots almost write poetry
With genuine algorithm emotion
For poetic pleasures of mind
increase positive online reviews by using interactive, automated, mobile-friendly chatbots.

Facebook Business Page reviews with your reviews site of choice (like Google, Yelp, or industry-specialized review sites).
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381 · Apr 2023
Prompted
ConnectHook Apr 2023
The problem you have is you've nothing to say.
These MFA promptings are good for a yawn..
So scribble some **** and then call it a day
Since most of your readers have long since moved on.
Today’s prompt asks you to begin by picking 5-10 words from the following list.
Next, write out a question for each word that you’ve selected (e.g., what is seaweed?)
owl / generator / fog / river / clove / miracle / cyclops / oyster / mercurial / seaweed / gutter / artillery / salt / elusive / thunder / ghost / acorn / cheese / longing / cowbird / truffle / quahog / song
Now for each question, write a one-line answer.
Try to make the answer an image, and don’t worry about strict logic.
These are surrealist answers, after all!
After you’ve written out your series of questions and answers, place all the answers, without the questions, on a new page. See if you can make a poem of just the answers. You may find that what you have is very beautifully mysterious, and somehow has its own logic.
379 · Nov 2018
Triangulation
ConnectHook Nov 2018
Love does NOT win.

God's law wins.

God is love.
Eternal love triangle of Trinity
378 · Jun 2020
Bot-Generated Drivel
ConnectHook Jun 2020
i poet
writes about suicides
impulse cutting
you get misunderstand

you need polarized
we am writes about depression
you so emo

me so emo
need u to reads
more socials justice
more racistism

you were rights
for me to reading
american poetries

because read a poetry
spewed out by
bot software
because u reddit on the internet
378 · Oct 2016
Limerick Unleashed
ConnectHook Oct 2016
A Limerick was once so well-written
that the muse AND her dog were both smitten.
The poor dog had to *** -
and he sniffed round my tree
but my rhyme was unbarked and unbitten.
*****************

The defining "foot" of a limerick's meter is usually the anapaest, (ta-ta-TUM), but catalexis (missing a weak syllable at the beginning of a line) and extra-syllable rhyme (which adds an extra unstressed syllable) can make limericks appear amphibrachic (ta-TUM-ta).

[from Wikipedia]
377 · Oct 2017
St. Martin Luther
ConnectHook Oct 2017
Luther walks forth in yon majestic frame,
Bright beam of heaven, and heir of endless fame,
Born, like thyself, thro toils and griefs to wind,
From slavery’s chains to free the captive mind,
Brave adverse crowns, control the pontiff sway,
And bring benighted nations into day.
Remark what crowds his name around him brings,
Schools, synods, prelates, potentates and kings,
All gaining knowledge from his boundless store,
And join’d to shield him from the papal power.
First of his friends, see Frederic’s princely form
Ward from the sage divine the gathering storm,
In learned Wittemburgh secure his seat,
High throne of thought, religion’s safe retreat.
There sits Melancthon, mild as morning light,
And feuds, tho sacred, soften in his sight;
In terms so gentle flows his tuneful tongue,
Even cloister’d bigots join the pupil throng;
By all sectarian chiefs he lives approved,
By monarchs courted and by men beloved…
from: The Columbiad, Book IV  by Joel Barlow

While the little ones are making plans to do their door-to-door candy scavenging tonight, let’s not forget that for Christians all over the world, October 31 marks Reformation Day.

It was October 31, 1517 – 500 years ago – that a monk by the name of Martin Luther nailed his 95 theses to the door of the church in Wittenberg, Germany and set off a firestorm of controversy, but ultimately, changed the path of Christianity with what was the Protestant reformation. He also drew the ire of the Roman Catholic church, whose hierarchy had found the selling of “indulgences” to be quite profitable.

“Indulgences,” by the way, were bought from the church. For a price, otherwise unrepentant people could “buy” forgiveness for their sins, trading money for a get-out-of-Hell-free card.

Yeah. That’s not how it works, and I shudder to think of how many are in eternal agony today because the church cared nothing for their souls and did not do their duty to call them to repentance, but rather, took their money and sold them false security.

Once word of Luther’s 95 theses reached Rome, they were studied and deemed “heretical” to the church. He was given 120 days to recant by Pope Leo X. He refused, and in January 1521 he was excommunicated from the Catholic church.

I don’t think he really cared.

In April of 1521 he was asked again to recant, and his writings were ordered to be burned. He hid out for a year in Eisenach, Germany and began the project of translating the New Testament into German. A transformative project that took 10 years to complete.

Luther’s later years were equally controversial, although, not in a good way. There’s no sense in visiting that part of his life, except to say that he was very much human, and we all are prone to stumble.

What he began with his theses, however, was a good that cannot be taken away.

From the Reformation movement, emerged the Five Solas, the very heart of the movement, and crucial to this Christian life.

Sola Scriptura – Scripture alone. The Bible is our highest authority, when it comes to the teachings of our God.

Sola Fide – Faith alone. Only faith in Jesus Christ saves us.

Sola Gratia – Grace alone. It is the grace of God alone, and not by the graces of any man, that we are counted as saved and forgiven.

Solus Christus – Christ alone. Only Jesus Christ is our Lord, our Savior, and our King.

Soli Deo Gloria – To the glory of God alone. It is for the glory of God alone that we live.

Beautiful.

The Reformation became necessary because the church of the day had drifted from the purpose and intent of Jesus Christ’s teachings, layering over the simple truths of who He is, and who we are to our Father in Heaven with the ambitions and greed of men.

Today, I thank God for the Reformation, that the truth of Christ and his free gift of grace no longer be hidden from humanity, or distorted by politics.

God does have a way of working things out.

From:  https://www.redstate.com/sweetie15/2017/10/31/lets-talk-reformation-day/
377 · Apr 2018
Spring Salvo
ConnectHook Apr 2018
It’s time to fire up my blog
and add to the poetic smog.
Marching thus, to April’s drum
may cause my muse to pause, mid-strum
and harp on my poetic lack
of will toward permanent attack.
Didactic, though, I strive to be;
And write with pure sincerity.

I’ll do my best to rail, and preach
and by such arts, some poor soul reach
assuring them they are not mad
but yes, the world IS worse than bad.
I’m sorry that I lack the power
to versify upon a flower.
(Leave that for some other, later
blithe pathetic poetaster.)

Where’s my muse?
(They must have maced her.)
http://www.napowrimo.net/participants-sites/

I forgot to start posting my NaPoWriMo poems to HP --
Here they come!

www.connecthook.wordpress.com
374 · Jul 2017
Estrofas Duchampescas
ConnectHook Jul 2017
Para recoger las horas perdidas
hay que coger las zorras perdidas...
mi musa habla español ☺☻
374 · Apr 2018
Bend This
ConnectHook Apr 2018
Why the hell would you want to change
if God thus made you (like Genesis)?
A notion so bizarre, so strange,
it begs some armchair analysis.
Such madness, yours. To rearrange . . .
thus we all learn what hubris is.
But on you babble, obscuring gender
(quite the conversation-ender).
Father means a man
and Mother means a woman
(there’s no other plan)
372 · Jul 2021
The Day of Doom
ConnectHook Jul 2021
Michael Wigglesworth (1631–1705)

STILL was the night, serene and bright,
  When all men sleeping lay;
Calm was the season, and carnal reason
  Thought so ’t would last for aye.
Soul, take thine ease, let sorrow cease,         5
  Much good thou hast in store:
This was their song, their cups among,
  The evening before.

Wallowing in all kind of sin,
  Vile wretches lay secure:         10
The best of men had scarcely then
  Their lamps kept in good ure.
Virgins unwise, who through disguise
  Amongst the best were number’d,
Had clos’d their eyes; yea, and the wise         15
  Through sloth and frailty slumber’d.

Like as of gold, when men grow bold
  God’s threat’nings to contemn,
Who stop their ear, and would not hear;
  When mercy warned them:         20
But took their course, without remorse,
  Till God began to pour
Destruction the world upon
  In a tempestuous shower.

They put away the evil day,         25
  And drown’d their care and fears,
Till drown’d were they, and swept away
  By vengeance unawares:
So at the last, whilst men sleep fast
  In their security,         30
Surpris’d they are in such a snare
  As cometh suddenly.

For at midnight break forth a light,
  Which turn’d the night to day,
And speedily an hideous cry         35
  Did all the world dismay.
Sinners awake, their hearts do ache,
  Trembling their ***** surpriseth;
Amaz’d with fear, by what they hear,
  Each one of them ariseth.         40

They rush from beds with giddy heads,
  And to their windows run,
Viewing this light, which shines more bright
  Than doth the noonday sun.
Straightway appears (they see ’t with tears,)         45
  The Son of God most dread;
Who with his train comes on amain
  To judge both quick and dead.

Before his face the heavens gave place,
  And skies are rent asunder,         50
With mighty voice, and hideous noise,
  More terrible than thunder.
His brightness damps heaven’s glorious lamps,
  And makes them hide their heads,
As if afraid and quite dismay’d,         55
  They quit their wonted steads.

Ye sons of men that durst contemn
  The threat’nings of God’s word,
How cheer you now? your hearts I trow,
  Are thrill’d as with a sword.         60
Now atheist blind, whose brutish mind
  A God could never see,
Dost thou perceive, dost now believe
  That Christ thy judge shalt be?

Stout courages, (whose hardiness         65
  Could death and hell outface,)
Are you as bold now you behold
  Your judge draw near apace?
They cry, “no, no: alas! and wo!
  Our courage is all gone:         70
Our hardiness (fool hardiness)
  Hath us undone, undone.”

No heart so bold, but now grows cold
  And almost dead with fear:
No eye so dry, but now can cry,         75
  And pour out many a tear.
Earth’s potentates and powerful states,
  Captains and men of might,
Are quite abash’d, their courage dash’d
  At this most dreadful sight.         80

Mean men lament, great men do rent
  Their robes, and tear their hair:
They do not spare their flesh to tear
  Through horrible despair.
All kindreds wail: all hearts do fail:         85
  Horror the world doth fill
With weeping eyes, and loud outcries,
  Yet knows not *******.

Some hide themselves in caves and delves
  In places under ground:         90
Some rashly leap into the deep,
  To ’scape by being drown’d:
Some to the rocks (O senseless blocks!)
  And woody mountains run,
That there they might this fearful sight,         95
  And dreaded presence shun.

In vain do they to mountains say,
  Fall on us and us hide
From judge’s ire, more hot than fire,
  For who may it abide?         100
No hiding place can from his face,
  Sinners at all conceal,
Whose flaming eye hid things doth spy,
  And darkest things reveal.

Then were brought in, and charg’d with sin.         105
  Another company,
Who by petition obtain’d permission,
  To make apology:
They argued, “We were misled,
  As is well known to thee,         110
By their example, that had more ample
  Abilities than we:

Such as profess’d they did detest
  And hate each wicked way:
Whose seeming grace whilst we did trace,         115
  Our souls were led astray.
When men of parts, learning and arts.
  Professing piety,
Did thus and thus, it seem’d to us
  We might take liberty.         120

The judge replies, “I gave you eyes,
  And light to see your way,
Which had you lov’d, and well improv’d,
  You had not gone astray.
My word was pure, the rule was sure,         125
  Why did you it forsake,
Or thereon trample, and men’s example,
  Your directory make?

This you well knew, that God is true,
  And that most men are liars,         130
In word professing holiness,
  In deed thereof deniers.
O simple fools! that having rules
  Your lives to regulate,
Would them refuse, and rather choose         135
  Vile men to imitate.”

“But Lord,” say they, “we went astray,
  And did more wickedly,
By means of those whom thou hast chose
  Salvation heirs to be.”         140
To whom the judge; “what you allege,
  Doth nothing help the case;
But makes appear how vile you were,
  And rendereth you more base.

You understood that what was good         145
  Was to be followed,
And that you ought that which was naught
  To have relinquished.
Contrary ways, it was your guise,
  Only to imitate         150
Good men’s defects, and their neglects
  That were regenerate.

But to express their holiness,
  Or imitate their grace,
You little car’d, nor once prepar’d         155
  Your hearts to seek my face.
They did repent, and truly rent
  Their hearts for all known sin:
You did offend, but not amend,
  To follow them therein.”         160

“We had thy word,” say some, “O Lord,
  But wiser men than we
Could never yet interpret it,
  But always disagree.
How could we fools be led by rules,         165
  So far beyond our ken,
Which to explain did so much pain,
  And puzzle wisest men.”

“Was all my word abstruse and hard?”
  The judge then answered:         170
“It did contain much truth so plain,
  You might have run and read.
But what was hard you never car’d
  To know nor studied.
And things that were most plain and clear         175
  You never practised.

The mystery of piety
  God unto babes reveals;
When to the wise he it denies,
  And from the world conceals.         180
If to fulfil God’s holy will
  Had seemed good to you
You would have sought light as you ought,
  And done the good you knew.”

Then at the bar arraigned are         185
  An impudenter sort,
Who to evade the guilt that’s laid
  Upon them thus retort;
“How could we cease thus to transgress?
  How could we hell avoid,         190
Whom God’s decree shut out from thee,
  And sign’d to be destroy’d?

Whom God ordains to endless pains,
  By law unalterable,
Repentance true, obedience new,         195
  To save such are unable:
Sorrow for sin, no good can win,
  To such as are rejected:
Nor can they grieve, nor yet believe,
  That never were elected.         200

Of man’s fall’n race who can true grace
  Or holiness obtain?
Who can convert or change his heart,
  If God withhold the same?
Had we applied ourselves and tried         205
  As much as who did most
God’s love to gain, our busy pain
  And labor had been lost.

Christ readily makes this reply;
  “I **** you not because         210
You are rejected or not elected,
  But you have broke my laws:
It is but vain your wits to strain
  The end and means to sever:
Men fondly seek to part or break         215
  What God hath link’d together.

Whom God will save such will he have
  The means of life to use:
Whom he ’ll pass by, shall choose to die,
  And ways of life refuse.         220
He that foresees, and foredecrees,
  In wisdom order’d has,
That man’s free will electing ill,
  Shall bring his will to pass.

High God’s decree, as it is free,         225
  So doth it none compel
Against their will to good or ill,
  It forceth none to hell.
They have their wish whose souls perish
  With torments in hell fire,         230
Who rather chose their souls to lose,
  Than leave a loose desire.

Then to the bar, all they drew near
  Who died in infancy,
And never had or good or bad         235
  Effected personally,
But from the womb unto the tomb
  Were straightway carried,
(Or at the last ere they transgress’d)
  Who thus began to plead:         240

“If for our own transgression,
  Or disobedience,
We here did stand at thy left hand,
  Just were the recompense:
But Adam’s guilt our souls hath spilt,         245
  His fault is charged on us;
And that alone hath overthrown,
  And utterly undone us.

Not we, but he ate of the tree,
  Whose fruit was interdicted:         250
Yet on us all of his sad fall,
  The punishment ’s inflicted.
How could we sin that had not been,
  Or how is his sin our
Without consent, which to prevent,         255
  We never had a power?

O great Creator, why was our nature
  Depraved and forlorn?
Why so defil’d, and made so vild
  Whilst we were yet unborn?         260
If it be just and needs we must
  Transgressors reckon’d be,
Thy mercy, Lord, to us afford,
  Which sinners hath set free.

Behold we see Adam set free,         265
  And sav’d from his trespass,
Whose sinful fall hath split us all,
  And brought us to this pass.
Canst thou deny us once to try,
  Or grace to us to tender,         270
When he finds grace before thy face,
  That was the chief offender?”

Then answered the judge most dread,
  “God doth such doom forbid,
That men should die eternally         275
  For what they never did.
But what you call old Adam’s fall,
  And only his trespass,
You call amiss to call it his,
  Both his and yours it was.         280

He was design’d of all mankind
  To be a public head,
A common root, whence all should shoot,
  And stood in all their stead.
He stood and fell, did ill or well,         285
  Not for himself alone,
But for you all, who now his fall
  And trespass would disown.

If he had stood, then all his brood
  Had been established         290
In God’s true love never to move,
  Nor once awry to tread:
Then all his race, my Father’s grace,
  Should have enjoy’d for ever,
And wicked sprites by subtle sleights         295
  Could then have harmed never.

Would you have griev’d to have receiv’d
  Through Adam so much good,
And had been your for evermore,
  If he at first had stood?         300
Would you have said, ‘we ne’er obey’d,
  Nor did thy laws regard;
It ill befits with benefits,
  Us, Lord, so to reward.’

Since then to share in his welfare,         305
  You could have been content,
You may with reason share in his treason,
  And in the punishment.
Hence you were born in state forlorn,
  With nature so deprav’d:         310
Death was your due, because that you
  Had thus yourselves behav’d.

You think, ‘if we had been as he,
  Whom God did so betrust,
We to our cost would ne’er have lost         315
  All for a paltry lust.’
Had you been made in Adam’s stead,
  You would like things have wrought,
And so into the selfsame wo,
  Yourselves and yours have brought.         320

I may deny you once to try,
  Or grace to you to tender,
Though he finds grace before my face,
  Who was the chief offender:
Else should my grace cease to be grace;         325
  For it should not be free,
If to release whom I should please,
  I have no liberty.

If upon one what’s due to none
  I frankly shall bestow,         330
And on the rest shall not think best,
  Compassion’s skirts to throw,
Whom injure I? will you envy,
  And grudge at others’ weal?
Or me accuse, who do refuse         335
  Yourselves to help and heal.

Am I alone for what’s my own,
  No master or no Lord?
O if I am, how can you claim
  What I to some afford?         340
Will you demand grace at my hand,
  And challenge what is mine?
Will you teach me whom to set free,
  And thus my grace confine?

You sinners are, and such a share         345
  As sinners may expect,
Such you shall have; for I do save
  None but my own elect.
Yet to compare your sin with their
  Who liv’d a longer time,         350
I do confess yours is much less,
  Though every sin’s a crime.

A crime it is, therefore in bliss
  You may not hope to dwell
But unto you I shall allow         355
  The easiest room in hell.”
The glorious king thus answering,
  They cease, and plead no longer:
Their consciences must needs confess
  His reasons are the stronger.         360

Thus all men’s pleas the judge with ease
  Doth answer and confute.
Until that all, both great and small,
  Are silenced and mute.
Vain hopes are crop’d, all mouths are stop’d,         365
  Sinners have nought to say,
But that ’tis just, and equal most
  They should be ****’d for aye.

Now what remains, but that to pains
  And everlasting smart,         370
Christ should condemn the sons of men,
  Which is their just desert;
Oh rueful plights of sinful wights!
  Oh wretches all forlorn:
’T had happy been they ne’er had seen         375
  The sun, or not been born.

The saints behold with courage bold,
  And thankful wonderment,
To see all those that were their foes
  Thus sent to punishment:         380
Then do they sing unto their king
  A song of endless praise:
They praise his name and do proclaim
  That just are all his ways.

Thus with great joy and melody         385
  To heaven they all ascend,
Him there to praise with sweetest lays,
  And hymns that never end.
Where with long rest they shall be blest,
  And nought shall them annoy:         390
Where they shall see as seen they be,
  And whom they love enjoy.
370 · Aug 2019
Limerick for Two
ConnectHook Aug 2019
This procurer of underage tail
made the Post, and then later, the Mail  
Let us sing our refrain
for recruiter Ghislaine:
we would like her detained without bail.

While her In-N-Out burger went cold,
Madame Maxwell was looking quite old.
Let her smile for the Times;
and then pay for her crimes
after all of her secrets are told.
♪ Bang bang Maxwell's silver hammer came down . . . .♫
369 · Apr 2018
Fearful Cling Rap
ConnectHook Apr 2018
You’ve labeled us rightly: Real news. It’s no libel.
Forget about Putin; we’re just having fun
as we cling to tradition, and guns, and the Bible.
The pipe-dream is ending. Your war has begun.

We are glad you’re progressive—your future awaits.
Take your baggage, and go. We won’t hinder your flight.
You could choose one of many dull globalist states
or else stay, and prepare for the cultural night.

We are ****** and mean. You appreciate art.
We’re black velvet painting. You’re classical strings.
We are rigidly Right. You are left feeling smart
but appalled by the changes democracy brings.

We’re the garbagemen next to your uptown Picasso.
Our news is pure falsity.  Why ? Cause you say so !
We are selfish, aggressive, misogynist too . . .
(you can ask our sweet wives if the latter is true).

We’re oppressive to immigrants, harsh on our kids.
While you signal your virtue, we have none to show.
Such deplorable ways have you flipping your lids.
So please go out in style.  Or else don’t—but just GO.

We’re immune to the slurs you’ve been slinging for years.
Please progress to the North without further delay
and make good on your promises. Spare us the tears.
And buzz off—take a hike. Break a leg. Fade away.
Though you may hate him
he’s really not that right wing,
your president, Trump.
369 · Jun 2021
Arkancide Template
ConnectHook Jun 2021
_________  didn't **** himself
insert name

b e c a u s e   Q-ANON.
https://www.breitbart.com/politics/2021/06/14/reporter-broke-story-clinton-lynch-tarmac-meeting-dead-alleged-suicide/
366 · Apr 2019
Feline Frenzy
ConnectHook Apr 2019
Put on your ***** hat, grab your Kibbles—
Let that cat out of your bag
Celebrate your business, Womyn
Whether you be sprite or hag . . .
Which is which? You make us wonder
(as you hate on the head-of state)
What you're packing. Woman-thunder
Promises to titillate.
Lead us men into our future
Show us where we've gone astray.
Shine that light of Matriarchy
As we stumble on our way.
Pure emotion lights your gender.
Superficial party-lines
Tie us up. A *****-******
Just might straighten out your signs.
Talking-points at intersections
Promise to inflame the game.
Seeking brave new world directions
Ought to shift some blame.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mpapjdwvRa8

PROMPT #23: write a poem about an animal.
365 · Aug 2019
Got Pink?
ConnectHook Aug 2019
How can "parents"
Allow their daughters
To waddle around
In hotpants
Or sweats
With dubious messages
Printed on their ***?

What do they expect...
And why should they react
When I ask the little lady
To bend over and hold it
So I can read it?
Zombie parents and little putas:
such people are devoid of discernment
ConnectHook Jul 2019
(the title is the poem)
I have met many erudite and cultured poetic souls
while traveling on the TRUMP TRAIN . . .
But ****, was I wrong on this one.

Or was I?

After all, he IS the greatest statesman, philosopher AND poet since Pericles, so **** it, commies
364 · Nov 2021
Another Cutting Poem
ConnectHook Nov 2021
i cut

my verses

like i cut and run

when they come

for the the superficially wounded

poets
I have ruined all my wedding gowns.
help me someone.

Also: send large Bandaids
364 · Sep 2020
Quorum
ConnectHook Sep 2020
Q has infiltrated the infiltrators.
Uniting US in conspiracy.
WWG1WGA
I know, because Q told me I needed to know.
You are Q.
Because Q is no one
and no one is everywhere.
Q is the code AND the decryption algorithm.
You believe Q ? So what.
The DEMONS believe Q...
and they tremble.
Blood and fire await those
who spurn Q's boundless mercy.

Q has so subtly crept into your consciousness that YOU, foolish one, think Q is a groundless conspiracy theory,
thus validating and acknowledging Q's presence
in your inner sanctum.

Q knows who you are and where you live before you lived there.

Q shall do exceedingly and abundantly beyond all that Q can conceive.

Prepare to take up arms for Q (apocalyptically).
Clean your weapons and load extra magazines (metaphorically).
Sharpen your combat knives and prepare to strike (symbolically).
Hide the explosive charges and set the timers (allegorically).
Slay all who oppose Q
and fill the midnight graves
with their twitching corpses (emblematically).
Cleanse the nation of all corruption (spiritually).

We await Q's dictates
unto death and beyond.


(Q taught Q's mother-in-law EVERYTHING she knows.)
Please hit "like"
and subscribe to Q

Discount on Q swag, Q merch and Q bling with discount code PQRST666

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M8zvttzEYD8
361 · Jun 2017
Spring Will Be Fun
ConnectHook Jun 2017
Spring Will Be Fun

Spring is here; birds are near.

Fall is gone when I yawn.

Birds cheer when spring is near.

Winter’s done (it’s not fun).

Spring is fun and it’s not done.

Bees buzzing by (they’re not shy).

Flowers blooming, butterflies zooming…

I love spring so much that I sing.

Sunshine  is divine;

that’s why I love sunshine.
This poem was written by my daughter
(the Secret Poet “S“)
360 · Aug 2019
St. Bartholomew's Couplet
ConnectHook Aug 2019
For starters

we could talk about the Huguenot martyrs...
St. Bartholomew's Day Massacres: 1572
"Edict of Nantes"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=umuYzdBkMGc
356 · Mar 2020
Social Distance Limerick
ConnectHook Mar 2020
Got to sleep in a old holler log
With my rifle, my pipe and my dog.
As you city-folk know,
She's a hard row to ***;
Dang Corona done slaughtered ma hog.
Hey there y’all.
Jest thought I would tell you what I been up to during this old LOCKDOWN by the dang federals and globalists and teknocrats. Due to Satan, China, and George Soros inflicting this scourge upon our beloved nation, I done had to stay hunkered down in muh cabin with muh fambly. CHINESE  Chest Cold all it is, and I don’t care what the One World Guvermint says, I AINT EATIN’ no BATS. **** ****** Chinese need JESUS I’ll tell you that. Now whar wuz I? Oh yeah:

We pretty much been prayin’ non-stop to the Lord, readin’ our Bibles and listenin’ to daddy Donald on the short-wave television. He shore is smart and we thank God Almighty for him AND his wife what’s-her-name. (She’s real pretty—for a Yuropean that is  . . .) And lucky for us he come up with a good plan to help us all overcome this great tribulation of the Last Days, amen. Presidint Trump is going to take that old W.H.O. down a peg or two. And all them thankless adversaries runnin’ their jaws a-complainin’ all day long kin go figger.  Anyway, we sit around a lot . . . muh wife bakes some cornpone . . . we fry a little bacon any old time. Muh kids play and squabble and ask to borry muh tablet (y’all know how it is) but I cain’t say it’s been easy. I have touched a drop (well perhaps a half jug) of corn likker, and although I am shamed to say, I have done beat muh dear wife somewhat (but never in front of the little ones and only when she sassed me).

Well, the good news from all these trials and tribulations is:
National Poetry Writing Month is comin’ along real SOON in April! You might not have thunk a ol’ deeplorable hillbilly like me would appreciate POETRY now would you? I hope the president can *** everthang on track for all of us soon and we kin all *** back to writin’ POEMS in the springtime.

And after the summer gits over we can drag our ol’ knuckles over to the votin’ station and cast our ballots, yes siree.

So that’s how it been here in Hickry Holler tryin’ (as the city slickers and federal agents like to call it) SOCIALLY DISTANCEing our pore selfs from everthang. I hope you folks is doin’ rightly and see you soon Lord willing.
356 · May 2020
Idylls of the Careless Hunt
ConnectHook May 2020
But sure the antique Greeks were far more mild,
      Else of our ***, why feigned they those nine
      And poesy made Calliope’s own child
?                                                Anne Bradstreet

Huntress, fill my pleading glass !
Let this marksman’s blood be merry.
Whether we shoot hind or ***,
Hail our wet preliminary.

   Having brought to birth such brave quadruplets,
   Let us toast the midwife with our couplets.

Sweet Diana pours her rounds:
Tawny Port and Shooting Sherry.
Hares now flee the baying hounds
For their country sanctuary.

   Thine the night, oh bright and savage huntress;
   Lead us to the quarry, chaste Artemis.

Conejito, hide yourself
From the charging adversary
Who would change your pelt for pelf;
(All close shaves are cautionary).

   Forgive our clanging gong and sounding brass;
   They serve to drive the quarry from the grass.

Healing balm: such sporting frolic,
Dares us to stay sedentary;
Banishing our melancholic
State, her bright apothecary!

   Wild huntress, let us know you as the Greeks
   And quiver as our heart your arrow seeks.

Toast we now the careless hunt;
Spoonerists wax luminary.
Visions of the hairless ****
Make my lay discretionary.
Allegory of DIANA, Goddess of the Hunt
https://tinyurl.com/y99k4hlg
ConnectHook May 2018
Ain't no cracka-*** Russian gone touch MY **** growled Plebeia as she filed her rhinestone-studded fake fingernails to a deadly edge. She rolled her enormous seething mass to the edge of the sofa and glared, like a feral heifer, at the massive TV screen from which Vladimir P. beamed forth like an avatar of Orthodoxy.
Y'all betta shut yo' punk-*** mouth, ***** howled Plebeia.
All y'all Russian girls so **** UGLY Ima hafta *** me some shades so don't hafta SEE dat nasty ****.
Plebeia then gathered her senatorial notes and prepared to present the accusations at the Russian collusion hearings.
My homegirl be crushin the illusion of Russian collusion.
352 · Nov 2019
Supremacy
ConnectHook Nov 2019
Race, race, race and then some more about race...
As if we cared that much about your face;
God bestows His beauty in diverse hues.
You’ll never learn this lesson from fake news.
Be a grateful citizen of His grace.
For ye are all the children of God by faith in Christ Jesus.
For as many of you as have been baptized into Christ have put on Christ.
There is neither Jew nor Greek,
there is neither bond nor free,
there is neither male nor female:
for ye are all one in Christ Jesus.
And if ye be Christ's, then are ye Abraham's seed,
and heirs according to the promise.

Galatians 3:26-29
350 · Oct 2019
Nature of the Enemy
ConnectHook Oct 2019
Cadaver animated by Marxism
Corpse possessed by militancy
Dead body filled with resentment
Zombie legions stirred by revolution
Mortuaries quickened by Dialectical Materialism
Necropolises of confrontation
Armies of dysfunctional ignorance
Reanimated carcasses of class consciousness
Semi-informed legions of the Undead
Communism is inherently correct because it has not been properly implemented yet. etc
346 · Feb 2018
Las Vegas Air
ConnectHook Feb 2018
Set the mode to Roundelay

on the Road to Mandalay . . .
(apologies to Kipling)

Where the flyin'-fishes play,
An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay!
345 · Apr 2023
To that Thing
ConnectHook Apr 2023
Woman, thy nastiness to me
Is like old Nikes on the floor
Where sweat and mildew disagree
And force me to the nearest door
A stench I can't ignore.

Your heart weighs less than styrofoam,
Thy stinking feet, thy scowling face,
Belong in some state nursing home . . .
Free me up some breathing space,
You mean-hair clipped-face gnome.

Lo, in yon dark recliner-chair
How meatloaf-like I see thee slump,
Upon your wide immobile ****,
Ah! Harpie of the greasy hair
Unholy Frump!
PROMPT #3

Find a poem that you like, and rewrite each line, replacing each word (or as many words as you can) with words that mean the opposite.

To Helen (E.A. Poe)
Helen, thy beauty is to me
Like those Nicean barks of yore
That gently, o’er a perfumed sea,
The weary, way-worn wanderer bore
To his own native shore.
On desperate seas long wont to roam,
Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face,
Thy Naiad airs have brought me home
To the glory that was Greece,
And the grandeur that was Rome.
Lo, in yon brilliant window-niche
How statue-like I see thee stand,
The agate lamp within thy hand,
Ah! Psyche, from the regions which
Are Holy Land!
342 · Sep 2018
Orange: It's The New Orange
ConnectHook Sep 2018
Hail the crown of Donald T.
Hail the mighty orange flame
Hail the age’s consummation
(Voters have themselves to blame)

TRUMP shall smash the global Hydra
TRUMP shall avenge our national shame
TRUMP shall restore our families’ honor
CONQUER (in his deplorable name) !

Captain TRUMP, the cord that binds
TRUMP the axe-head and the judge
Leader DONALD, light that blinds
Our final King: let none begrudge
Donald our axe-head is now tightly bound with us in a shared sacred duty,
projecting his keen edge from the national bundle.
Let us, together, grow tired of winning until all worthless cancerous cells
are excised, neutralized and disposed of.
All that is not full of the Will to Greatness must perish
before the coming orange storm.
Clad in the shining raiment of victory
let us serve with American fervor our new leader.
Women, mothers and nurturers of the mystic rebirth
are welcome in Trump’s new nation.
Sweep away the cobwebs of the old weakness, hail the conquering hero,
he who fearlessly bears the fasces into the global courtroom
as judge, jury, and executioner.
Let the cities and nations of unbelief tremble and plead for mercy.
Poems shall be composed as bridges are built, spanning years.
Stanzas shall spontaneously fall into place
and march with military precision.
Every capital line shall converge upon our captain:
339 · Oct 2018
Unhallowed Be The Name
ConnectHook Oct 2018
Open, dark sepulchers! Autumnal woe
whips the dead leaves, which scattering, whirl below.
Bright orange memories of summer’s cheer
Flame out in phantom grimaces of fear.
Bare eldritch limbs reach out against the dusk
and spectral winds disturb each withered husk.
Thoughts wax sinister, existentially . . .
for such we shall become, eventually.
All hallowed saints acknowledge even this,
Departed from a world they do not miss.

Unable to assimilate true night,
The nation now embraces plastic fright,
Satanic sweetness surfeiting its young
while judgement in the wings, awaits, unsung.
They purchase Chinese plastic slasher-masks
To celebrate those diabolic tasks
They wish were only nightmares of the mind;
And so they show they’re spiritually blind;
Culturally and politically as well,
For thinking there’s no Heaven, nor a Hell.
As if Life’s stunning triumph thrills them less
Than spectral superstitions they profess.
They glorify the grave, though life is good—
Their children freely tour the neighborhood . . .

Oppression that prevails beyond our lands
Bears testament to this. Who understands
How real the threat of gruesome harm can be
Where terror’s costly fear is given free?
Imagine those who fled forevermore
Real graves and bones, blood; homelands wracked by war—
Survivors, having seen such things fulfilled
May wish they could forget how some were killed;
Their Halloween replaced with realer fates:
by bombs, in wars, in dark tyrannic states.
From whence true refugees take flight from death
to live where freedom draws an easier breath.
Uprooted, then transplanted, seeking life,
Believing they have now escaped the strife
Must they be thus subjected yet again
To fear’s oppressive rule, so now as then?
Traumatic scenes are glimpsed, it’s all in fun . . .
Meanwhile, those who have lived it come undone.
Ironic morbid joke: where freedom reigns
To purchase fake cadaverous remains;
Permit the grave to thus enslave our brains.

There was a brighter side to all this rot:
In neighborhoods your adult mind forgot;
So long ago, so lost in childhood’s mist.
Of what did earlier Halloweens consist?
It wasn’t all about the grave, the gore.
You didn’t buy your costume at the store.
Your mommy helped you tailor some disguise;
A character to charm, and to surprise
The neighbors known to live along your street.
Nostalgic masquerade: the bittersweet . . .
Now, our nation’s hypoglycemic kids
Gorge on what diabetes’ law forbids.
Macabre, this epidemic in our streets:
Sugar-addicted specters draped in sheets
Or dressed in Wal-Mart costumes of the ******
who ask for candy (grabbing on demand).

Were I the Lord, I’d find it all less cute
And curse it, as the fig-tree, to its root—
Slam shut the cover on the fearful tome,
Restore true life, reviving every home
Till Treats and Tricks alike speak more of faith
And God’s own Spirit banish every wraith.

The horrors you exhume in idle hours
To haunt your artificial autumn bowers
Are real for some, who question, once a year
What’s wrong with you, romanticizing fear,
When Death and Hell are real—however near.
Halloween 2018
337 · Apr 2020
Abram the Hebrew
ConnectHook Apr 2020
Mammonite pretender, see the Khazar:
Out of place in the Biblical bazaar;
Fattening his financial calf of gold
Maintaining clueless goyim bought and sold
.

Abram the nomad mixed milk with his meat
Walked the Fertile Crescent on his own feet;
Summoned from the Chaldees, uncircumcised
Long before that temple was realized.
From Babylon to Egypt, passing through,
Jerusalem came briefly into view.
He lived. He walked right out of the Archaic
To shatter every legalist’s mosaic.
Beholding now God’s current Middle East,
(Collective funeral more than wedding feast)
The Bedouin seem to model more the way:
hospitable intents at close of day.

Four hundred years would pass before they saw
That wilderness of Sinai and the Law;
Commandments Moses knew could never save.
We judge them by accounts their Torah gave:
Twelve generations later . . . what a joke.
The righteousness consumed in holy smoke
As Israel descended, worse than Cain,
to civil wars on *****’s fruitless plain.
In Judges we behold the steep descent
Read well the signs. Be warned—and then repent.
A scene for every Judaistic dream:
Depravity is worse than it may seem.
Your concubine, dismembered at your door,
May light the shortened fuse of civil war.
He aquí la Santa Muerte. Adórala:
https://connecthook.net/2020/04/27/abram-the-hebrew/
336 · Jan 2021
Coronationz
ConnectHook Jan 2021
Let's give thanks
for the new presidential team:
Jobiden and Carmela Harrison!

They are the GREATEST and
most populer rulers

since George Lincoln and
Abraham Jefferson
and Barak OBAMO and
Jobiden also got way more votes than Ronald Raegan.

Yay AMERICA !!!!!!!!
Now we am heal with unity and Jobiden
335 · Sep 2021
FREEVERSE-19
ConnectHook Sep 2021
You, the vaccinated

seem to me

to be
just as neurotically fearful
of that chest-cold/flu thingee
as you were BEFORE your jab.

This inspires confidence

neither in your logic

nor in your vaccine.

You are supposed to be protected

by your magic jab.

I have come to believe

that COVID occupies that place
in your neurotic soul
where GOD is supposed to dwell.
So you do you.
but stop being neurotically fearful.

What's your problem . . .
are you unprepared to die?

Seek God and live.
332 · May 2020
Fork Spoonerism!
ConnectHook May 2020
Amidst a merging of insurgencies
was a surging of emergencies.

The ineluctable conclusion:

unelectable condition of the candidates
was due to unconditional election of God’s chosen.
The Reformed view of election, known as unconditional election, means that God does not foresee an action or condition on our part that induces Him to save us. Rather, election rests on God’s sovereign decision to save whomever He is pleased to save.

In the book of Romans, we find a discussion of this difficult concept. Romans 9:10–13 reads: “And not only so, but also when Rebekah had conceived children by one man, our forefather Isaac, though they were not yet born and had done nothing either good or bad—in order that God’s purpose of election might continue, not because of works but because of him who calls—she was told, ‘The older will serve the younger.’ As it is written, ‘Jacob I loved, but Esau I hated.’” Here the Apostle Paul is giving his exposition of the doctrine of election. He deals with it significantly in Romans 8, but here he illustrates his teaching of the doctrine of election by going back into the past of the Jewish people and looking at the circumstances surrounding the birth of twins—Jacob and Esau. In the ancient world, it was customary for the firstborn son to receive the inheritance or the patriarchal blessing. However, in the case of these twins, God reversed the process and gave the blessing not to the elder but to the younger. The point that the Apostle labors here is that God not only makes this decision prior to the twins’ births, He does it without a view to anything they would do, either good or evil, so that the purposes of God might stand. Therefore, our salvation does not rest on us; it rests solely on the gracious, sovereign decision of God.
329 · Jun 2018
Nicas pierden sus canicas
ConnectHook Jun 2018
El hecho de que
Los nicas no tienen
Temor de morir
Hemos visto. Mueren
En sus propias calles
Luchando contra dictaduras
De la derecha
Como de la izquierda.

Me pregunto:
¿Cuándo van a vivir
Para conseguir
Su libertad democrática
Y no mas morir
Por tiranos
?
Venezuela =
100+ unarmed protesters
killed by Marxist govt. in 3 years

Nicaragua =
100+ unarmed protesters
killed by Marxist govt. since 4/19/18
ConnectHook May 2018
Ah, beautiful and pitiful! ah, last
And fairest of the daughters of the Past
Born out of time and in most grievous days
When unto beauty men mete out no praise !
Lone Gothic princess, all your line is dead:
The glory of your race is vanished: fled
Is that high faith that should have found in you
Its meet delight and its expression true…
from: Ode to the Woolworth Building;
'Tropicaltown and other Poems',
Salomon de la Selva; 1918

https://archive.org/stream/tropicaltown00selvrich/tropicaltown00selvrich_djvu.txt
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