11 Jan

Spiritual Food for Thought.

Mum C writes


It’s a new Sunday

And all are up, most do pray

The church laughs, cries and bleeds

For the visitors it is yet to receive


The first classes are those with God in hearts

They come subdued, dressed like parcels

That will take years of hundred to unwrap

Their faces spelling doom

Because their flowers see no sun to bloom

A worship song makes them gloom

As they cry to touch


The second classes

Go with needed glasses

Even their class is also in classes

There are men of passions

Who enter the church to get bed actions

There are women of needs

Who enter to possess

There are women of testing

Who aim to twist the  minds of the preachers

And the choirmasters, who dreads the tension

Between their ploughers

Funny, how they all call on God

And pretentiously hate on Satan


There are the show…

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