ArmourQuill Hunter

Rookie - 0 Points (1949 / Fort Smith, AR)

Murder's Cloak Of Mockery - Poem by ArmourQuill Hunter

With dysfunctional affairs of the insecure, they market elusive control.
Few see behind Murder's cloak and ridicule disrespect to maim the soul.
Thinking they're above the law, jesting for ill, their mockery to kill.
Shallow pits of 'unfaithful liars' are promoted with style and thrill.

Ablaze with insults- they ardently tear the soul, limiting Love's intake.
This insane humour insults parody for mockery's venom and Evil's sake.
Devoted to taunting they goad victims to murder, as they're reprieved.
Their constant drip-of-teasing is testing the game of control far eased.

Full of disdain, they boast blasphemy, as if they're better than the rest.
Noted fools 'think themselves wiser than 7-scribes' of Wisdom's zest.
'Abuse of power' sadly reflects a loveless society-, for All Christ bled.
Who can stand against belittling, especially at vulnerable times, to dread?

Hussein made mockery of weaponry inspections, defames, justify his plea.
Isn't beauty of sex, legal mystique, marred with contemptuous mockery?
The gifted 'played-down, ' exposed to mockery, for artificial things given.
Comparisons aren't of truth nor is it masterful for love within living.

Heaven lifts the Faithful to survive-, escaping the wicked buffoonery.
Surrender ALL for the Master's plan, when surrounded by evil scenery.
Adhere to sample of the wise, in multiples of counsel there's safety.
A wise idiom is: there's safety in numbers, for excellence of suavity.

Avoid disdain with relationships wronged, bury the hatchet, live on-.
Futile regrets saps future-Love; best to live singing a grateful song.
Trifle not with offences; pursue Peace and escape sudden catastrophe.
Life's business is to enjoy; you must know that all else is mockery.

Odd that murder is born-of-love, which attains its intensity in murder.
Then again, who can attain peace of understanding without God's order?
Few are wise to run from evil, even of kin, rather they turn to hate.
Mockery is rust corroding all, best to run from wicked jester's fate.

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Poem Submitted: Thursday, April 20, 2006

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