copyrighted poem by Libby
Wake Up Call!
This country is in the midst of madness.
Amidst the
outward, show of gladness.
Hard knocks, are tumbling, years,
of greatness.
Soft,
Angel
cries,
Are being heard,
beneath the stones,
of strong foundations.
Laid in not so ancient days.
These cries,
These cries,
like Abel again,
demanding vengeance.
Sounding through the
walls of Heaven.
Demanding vengeance,
On all who caused their woe.
Tasting death themselves,
These madmen try to hide their sin.
Blanketing tiny souls to cover them.
Arousing powerful Angels,
that stand ready,
in defending them.
To spoil their plot and evil course.
Still the cup of iniquity,
nears to the brim
And God,
won't let these Angels
punish men.
Held in course for earth's
sure woe.
They cannot quench the sin in men.
But it will come,
and sifting through the chared remains
of them,
These Angels will spare,
some of them.
Most oft to judgement flee,
to
end this temporary blissful glee.
And who will you cry to,
when the tissue you reach for
has wiped away
the next generation?
This country is in the midst of madness.
Repent America, this is your wake up call,
repent now. For everything there is a season...
