ArmourQuill Hunter Poems

Beauty is- as beauty does not as outward beauty looks.
It’s not as the envious or spiteful who robe like a crook.

I dreamt that I was lovely; but on the outside few did see.
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There's a community house just around the corner
With a sign outside for you to come and join-her

New Zealand basically structured to care
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Seasons change as the beat of a silent drum, in and out of things.
We take in fresh rain but cannot tell it's effect is for all it brings.

Times and seasons of life's natural rhythm of cycles keep changing.
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Slowly the electronic computer system upsets the cradle of power
NZ was alerted to the Smart Card; a new tactic came another hour
As Biblically foretold, power is now in a number on a passport chip
Soon you won't be able to buy or sell without itemizing every bit
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Passion wants it now, any how, and cannot seem to wait.
'A bird in hand is better than a one in the bush' they freight.
Patience is wise waiting for the best things and glories in the end.
Passion has its best things first, but Patience laughs loudest friend.
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Creating dynamic equilibrium macro theories that do revolutionize
Enthusiastically, they're courageous and clever, who will win the prize
Imagination is the fabric dynamics which influence beyond position
Focusing on priorities, so right; cause there'll always be opposition
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Leaving the Path of Right, was it worth the battles hell’s shame?
Imprisoned by your choices to dishonour the goodness of God’s name;
You sinned against the Light of the Word, grieving the Spirit of Truth.
Why couldn’t you wait and trust God for a mate? Boaz was given Ruth!
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Long ago a friendly Hippo met an awkward Armadillo.
His Horse-river mate bet him 'to race' to the Grand Lido.
'You're on, ' replied the anxious Armadillo, and off they ran.
They rallied 'town excitement' which spread across the land.
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Scare-face Dragster had often challenged anyone to a race year round
Till this stranger named Road-ranger stepped up to the base to confound.
There were tailgaters and traffic breakers, all sorts at Racegate Village.
Rebellion was fostered like weeds, so the town was nicknamed Pillage.
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Take men trying to lasso, hogtie, and even brand me
Men must think I’m gullible, to digest their small reality
My Father hold the reigns of my domain to date
Let them stand in line, take a number, or better yet wait
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