Yes, there are angels in the net, I can prove it and I am ready to bet.
They send me mails every day offering me money, From Nigeria to London, all set to make my days sunny.
All they want from me is to open an account and deposit few thousand bucks, And all this at an assurance, that I will have millions in my hands, what a luck!
People jealous of me say, whole thing is a lie and a scam, And that I should mark them and put them in a spam.
There is no way I am going to pay heed and put these offers in trash, Am not going to ignore, in the fear that my computer can be hacked or it will crash.
Why will Mrs Langers, whose dying husband left me a lot of money, lie? And the Sheikh! who sees a lot of potential in me, is all from Dubai.
An online lottery just declared I won millions without buying the ticket, I deserve all the money of his kingdom, says Mr. Fickett.
This is it I will deposit all the money I have in their account right now, And since I will be rich pretty soon, I am naming this, as Project Cash Cow.
It's oh in Paradise that I fain would be, Away from earth and weariness and all beside; Earth is too full of loss with its dividing sea, But Paradise upbuilds the bower for the bride.
Where flowers are yet in bud while the boughs are green, I would get quit of earth and get robed for heaven; Putting on my raiment white within the screen, Putting on my crown of gold whose gems are seven
Fair is the fourfold river that maketh no moan, Fair are the trees fruit-bearing of the wood, Fair are the gold and bdellium and the onyx stone, And I know the gold of that land is good.
O my love, my dove, lift up your eyes Toward the eastern gate like an opening rose; You and I who parted will meet in Paradise, Pass within and sing when the gates unclose.
This life is but the passage of a day, This life is but a pang and all is over; But in the life to come which fades not away Every love shall abide and every lover.
He who wore out pleasure and mastered all lore, Solomon, wrote "Vanity of vanities: " Down to death, of all that went before In his mighty long life, the record is this.
With loves by the hundred, wealth beyond measure, Is this he who wrote "Vanity of vanities"? Yea, "Vanity of vanities" he saith of pleasure, And of all he learned set his seal to this.
Yet we love and faint not, for our love is one, And we hope and flag not, for our hope is sure, Although there be nothing new beneath the sun And no help for life and for death no cure.
The road to death is life, the gate of life is death, We who wake shall sleep, we shall wax who wane; Let us not vex our souls for stoppage of a breath, The fall of a river that turneth not again.
Be the road short, and be the gate near, -- Shall a short road tire, a strait gate appall? The loves that meet in Paradise shall cast out fear, And Paradise hath room for you and me and all.
The angels were entertained playing soccer By the time they realized what was going on They couldn't call a doctor.
angels.
Author: Geovanni Alfaro
0
Date: 29/03/2020
№ 1199355
Declension Of Angels
Swift inset of love's Sanskrit, A thorn of contestations.
Make cadence this sensorial music. Centrifugally waiting bodies To cross Earths.
A plethora of annulments. Lion-telling Sun singes through intersections of infinities:
We cannot wait to quash The morning, the scent of guava leaves And the cerement of flour on chicken. Earth-hewn mounds of meat pressed Against beholden kitchen clangor.
Declension of memory past wood And pillars of home. lattices of light Forerunning fingers, let down the curtain. Wind swings with maddened turbine, Afternoons high with deadlock.
Of all that is not here, the force Reawakens a long-stumped thrust, Beating us back to edges ruthless With angels entirely curved, singled-out, Wings clipped, dancing at the tip Of the candleflame.
angels.
Author: Windsor I Guadalupe Jr
0
Date: 28/03/2020
№ 1199178
Shoulder Angels
Revenge is a demon that's hard to exorcise, And forgiveness, an angel sent by the god of Mercy. The devil hovers on my left shoulder, the seraph lies On the right, and each one is the purest expression Of love and hate, temptation and conscience.
They both whisper sweet nothings in my ears, Trying to comfort me, to free me from the loud Thoughts in my head and the torture of silence, While the smells of heaven and hell surround Me and hang heavy in the air
Like sulfur and petrichor, Like fire and rain
That excite and soothe My spirit, That consume and flood My mind.
They're both Looking out for me.
They both Want my happiness.
They're both protective and want To sate me and save my soul in Their own righteous ways;
To take me by the hand And walk by my side On whatever path I choose.
