| Return To Carl Buntion's Homepage |
DEAR DIARY
Dear Diary : Monday was a very bad day
for me,
I picked up a newspaper and read about
another Texas execution,
Governor George W Bush stated that
this was a fair and just democracy,
And that killing folks who kill folks
was a very good solution,
I don't think I like newspapers anymore,
Dear Diary : Tuesday was a very bad
day for me,
I turned on the radio and the announcer
was elated that another human
being had been executed, "After all,"
he said,
"this is the home of the brave and
the land of the free,
And a just reward it is for anyone
who murdered, raped, or looted."
I don't think I like radios anymore,
Dear Diary : Wednesday was a very
bad day for me,
TV programs were preempted by the candidates
running for president,
Both are in favor of the death penalty,
is that a prerequisite for becoming
a US resident ?
I don't think like TVs anymore,
Dear Diary : Thursday was a very bad
day for me,
Yes, there was another execution in
my state,
Life without parole is harsher and
cheaper than the death penalty,
So, who wants to cast the first stone
and seal their fate ?
I don't think I like my state anymore,
Dear Diary : Friday was a bad
day for me,
My own execution date has been set,
Killing this body will at last set
me free,
Is this closure enough for you, have
I paid my debt ?
I don't think God likes your brand of
justice,
Please remember, God keeps a
Diary, too.
by Carl Buntion #993
History is written by the victors
many have walked the Trail of Tears
where once a proud nation stood
now lies buried beneath the years
A penny for your thoughts
a trinket for your hand
a blanket for your children
a treaty for your land
Now you can go to school
and be more civilized
your heathen days are over
we want you christianized
If you leave your inclosure
you will go to jail
if you do not obey us
your life will be a living hell
Hang your head America
your victory is written in shame
one day you will kneel before GOD
and feel the mighty wrath of HIS Name
For, history is written by THE victor
you shall walk HIS trail of tears
where once a proud nation stood
will lie buried throughout the years.
by Carl Buntion #993
This is not one of your average poems
about Mother Nature or Father Time
this is about blood, sweat and tears
and everyone's favourite subject :
Crime
So, who shot the man at the hardware
store ?
circumstances won't get the credit
publishers will even eddit out the
real truth,
so, look to the mirror for guidance
Poverty cocked the hammer
your environmentalism pulled the trigger
sure, its time to look down your nose,
again,
at the bastard child that you have
abandoned
You cannot create a predator
and then complain when it feeds
vengeance will come full circle one
day
and the hunter may become the prey
Pay-back is the name of the game
an eye for an eye is your motto
your philosophy sucks
your ism offers no forgiveness
So, who killed the man at the hardware
store?
was the killer a crazed, drugged out
psycho
looking for his or her next fix
or, simply, Society's Child,
operating at the level they were reduced
to?
For guidance in this matter
look to the mirror, my friend,
will you chance things, or look down
your nose
while your child grows hungry, again
?
by Carl Buntion #993
When the enemy rears its ugly head
You can't tell friend from foe
Tax- vampires bleed you till you're
dead
Friendly-fire killed more than one
GI Joe
Medical profession robs you when you're
sick
Politicians weave a web of deceit
Everything rises, including your temper
Road-rage warriors battle in the street
Homeless war - veterans picking up cans
Bulletproof classrooms, terrified kids
Drive-by shootings, and Satan music
Bad cops and courts blow their lids
So who is the real enemy here?
Am I Dr Jeckyll as well as Mr Hyde?
Have I raised my standard of living
Or simply, lowered my pride?
Will I turn against my brother
As the Good Book did foretell?
Can I spend my days in Heaven
And still raise a little Hell ?
After all, I'm not the Shepherd
I just supply the fleece
In this Land of Milk and Honey
Who am I to slay the Beast ?
by Carl Buntion #993
But for the Grace of God
I would not know salvation
I would drown in damnation
But for the grace of God
The things you give at Christmas
Should be more than mere presents,
with pretty bows
You should give your citizenship to
Hell back to the devil
And join the eternal family of Christ
Let's celebrate his birthday by going
to church
And giving thanks to God
Would you let the state execute your
only child
In the hopes that sinners would stop
sinning?
Can you even begin to imagine the pain
and suffering
That Christ endured on his execution
day?
This perfect man was not injected with
pain killers
and strapped to a cushioned gurney
How dare you take his name in vain
This innocent man did not have to die
for you
You cannot save yourself from Hell
But for the grace of God you should
be so lucky
Let's keep Christ in Christmas.
by Carl Buntion #993
Sure, there are roadblocks and temptations
in our way
And the devil smiles with glee
Jesus was tempted and not a single
time did He stray
Our Father's love will do the same
for you and me.
Let's praise Him, obey Him, and walk
in His light
Wear the full armor of God at all times
The devil becomes weak and is filled
with fright
When he sees real Christian soldiers,
like yours and mine
The angels rejoice every time a lost
soul is saved
While the devil stamps his feet
Devil will use every trick in the book
to keep you enslaved
But the mighty power of God protects
the meek.
Break the chains of Satan and praise
Gods name
Let's shout it from shore to shore
Our body and soul will never be the
same
Because the devil don't live here,
anymore
by Carl Buntion #993
It's hard to be optimistic in a pessimistic
society
Everyone is so judgemental and opinionated
Everyone except the glass, and the
glass is neutral
The glass is neither half full nor
half empty
The glass is but a glass, or is it
?
God is the glass of life
He offers you refreshing, life - sustaining
liquid
In the form of his only son, Jesus
Christ
Drink freely, this glass will never
run dry
Ask and you will be given, this miracle
True believers have a road map to spiritual
life
They know the direction to th e Holy
City
Nonbeliever(s) are rushing headlong
into Hell
Clueless, mapless, in a barren desert
called Sin
Their glass runneth over, with demons
and confusion
If God came right now, which glass would
you be holding?
If you died this instant, would your
cup runneth over wit hGod?
You are the recipient of your own destiny
God will respect YOUR DECISION
Bend your knee and pick up the eternal
map to salvation
Its called THE HOLY BIBLE
Let Jesus by your Guide.
by Carl Buntion #993
Morning dew sparkles on the grass
A rooster announcing a new day
Warm puppies with gravy breath
Sunshine through the golden hay
Little girls with easter baskets
Cool cider in wintertime
Old pickup trucks
Another place, another time
Children's laughter in the park
Wild flowers on a hillside
Sunny Sundays at the zoo
A kiss from your new bride
A red sunset
True friendships that last
A genuine smile
These are things from the past
Clothes hung on a line
A guitr in tune
A mom's hug
Fishing with a full moon
Christmas mornings
Snowball fights
A Dad's handshake
A candle in the night
Moon walks
Freedom marches
Leaders shot
Cathedral arches
Citizens executed
Shot, hanged or injected
Lethal gas, electrocuted,
Innocent or guilty, no one's rejected
Stand up America
And take a bow
Your performance has been duly noted
By the One in charge now.
by Carl Buntion #993
| Return To Carl Buntion's Homepage |
