Imprisoned in my Baltimore Home

Earlier this evening, shortly after the curfew took effect, I stood at the back gate of my home in Baltimore City.  If I opened the gate and took a step onto the street, I would be breaking the law.  I felt a great need to express my sadness over what has become of my adopted home.  Here it is:

Freedom Bound in Darkness

The lads with no dads are always so mad

Hurting my town and breaking it down

Feeling a debt, taking what can be had

.

Prisoners of the night are those who want right

Their freedoms submerged until they all drown

Because the lads with no dads are always so mad

.

To them nothing is easy, it’s always a fight

Even joy is fleeting, it ends in a frown

Feeling a debt, taking what can be had

.

While they seem to run free, we’re bound until light

Some drown in blood, others break the crown

The lads with no dads are always so mad

.

When greed replaces need, the stores ignite

The charm has gone, with smoke it has flown

As they feel a debt and take what can be had

.

Teeming in numbers, faking true might

Losing their future, having infamy, not renown

The lads with no dads are always so mad

Feeling a debt, taking what can be had

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The Joebberwacky

The Joebberwacky

‘Twas thrillig, and the slimy joves
 Did grint and gibble on the stage;
 All dumbsy were the politcoves,
 And the dume bydns outrabe.

“Beware the Joebberwack, my son!
The lips that sneer, the teeth that flash!
 Beware the Barrybarry bird, and shun
 The debious Wassersnatch!”

He shone his shiny pate by hand:
 Long time the moxiny joe he sought—
So rested he by the Dumdum tree,
And stood awhile without a thought.

And as in matthyooish thought he stood,
 The Joebberwack, with eyes of blame,
 Came overcombing through the oogley wood,
 And sneerkled as it came!

One, two! One, two! and through and through
 The lolling tongue went blabber-back!
He left it dead, and with his empty head
 He went amphtraking back.

“And hast thou slain the Joebberwack?
 Come to my arms, my gopish boy!
 O barriless day! Callooh! Callay!”
He chortled in his joy.

‘Twas thrillig, and the slimy joves
 Did grint and gibble on the stage;
 All dumbsy were the politcoves,
 And the dume bydns outrabe.

What is love?

Love is a willingness to lose anything for someone who means everything while expecting nothing.

That is the love that scores the greatest dramas and the mightiest epics. We sing songs of that love and write poems about that love. Every time that someone dies for that kind of love, a little bit of evil dies too. That is how Christ loves us. That is how we should love each other.