tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15872122.post179702119764563831..comments2023-10-09T12:55:26.688-04:00Comments on The Burning Taper: Jester Michael Stebick avoids jail time for role in prostitution scandalWidow's Sonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05135009678671539418noreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15872122.post-17150364070596785832009-07-15T08:04:53.662-04:002009-07-15T08:04:53.662-04:00Nuptial powers hath fixed thy lot,
Thy wedding kn...Nuptial powers hath fixed thy lot, <br />Thy wedding knell hath tolled. Forget it not, <br />And thou art done unto a rich brown state <br />Thy wife and mother-in-law control thy fate. <br />Hereafter that thou with us may not meet, <br />They’ll either chide or guy, cajoling, sweet. <br />But, "Hark ye not, lest thou should lose, <br />A "Jester’s" banquet—minus booze, <br />Mayhap our Steward has in mind <br />A feast that pleases all mankind <br />You Jesters worship at the "Shrine" of Food, <br />Be there first at the door, or you’re no good <br />The dark skinned savage who adores the sun <br />And scalps his victim with no sign of fear <br />Has nothing on a Jester in a run for food that’s free <br />He’ll kill without a tear. <br />The old guard, pats the stewards on the back <br />Whispering sweet nothings, fearful lest the smokes <br />Should get first to the candidates or visiting folks, <br />Their wily fingers circling three or four, <br />They change their seats that they may capture more. <br />You veteran Jesters, crossed the heated sand, <br />To strains from the sweet Chanters Band, <br />Then did thy gentle nature’s sudden change <br />To "Food Hounds," knife and fork in hand. <br />Thou now dost talk the earth in fiendish glee <br />Devouring Banquets, (where the food is free) <br />Thy wife at home alone, in surly mood <br />Will curse the ravenous Jesters and their food <br />But thou wilt perish faithful. <br />Girt with thick cutlets, chops and loins of beef, <br />Will not these compensate thy martyred grief? <br />Sniff now the censer’s ravishing perfume sweet, <br />List to the sensuous music, sad, monotonous, deep, <br />Appealing to the ear, to soul, to sense, <br />To appetite so knawing and intense, <br />Compelling all to follow as our Director drones, <br />"Allah is God—virtuous love atones," <br />Stir thy sluggish souls, the food hounds path begin, <br />Arouse ye, or forever starve, <br />Go forth, and let the steward fill thy skins.T. Ron Duncehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13245304543455678913noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15872122.post-25855857803229779332009-07-15T08:03:06.271-04:002009-07-15T08:03:06.271-04:00The Fool’s Prayer
The Royal feast was done; the K...The Fool’s Prayer <br />The Royal feast was done; the King <br />Sought some new sport to banish care, <br />And to his jester cried, "Sir Fool, <br />Kneel now, and make for us a prayer." <br />The Jester doffed his cap and bells, <br />And stood the mocking court before; <br />They could not see the bitter smile <br />Behind the painted grin he wore. <br />He bowed his head, and bent his knee <br />Upon the monarch’s silken stool; <br />His pleading voice arose, "O Lord, <br />Be merciful to me, a fool. <br />"No pity, Lord, could change the heart <br />From red with wrong to white as wool; <br />The rod must heal the sin; but Lord, <br />Be merciful to me, a fool! <br />"Tis not by guilt the onward sweep <br />Of truth and right, O Lord, we stay; <br />‘Tis by follies that so long <br />We hold the earth from heaven away. <br />"These clumsy feet, still in the mire, <br />Go crushing blossoms without end; <br />These hard, well-meaning hands we thrust <br />Among the heart strings of a friend. <br />"The ill-timed truth we might have kept— <br />Who knows how sharp it pierced and stung? <br />The word we had not sense to say— <br />Who knows how grandly it had rung? <br />"Our faults no tenderness should ask, <br />The chastening stripes must cleanse them all: <br />But for our blunders—Oh, in shame <br />Before the eyes of heaven we fall. <br />"Earth bears no balsam for mistakes; <br />Men crown the knave, and scourge the fool <br />That did his will; but Thou, O Lord, <br />Be merciful to me, a fool!" <br />The room was hushed; in silence rose <br />The King, and sought his gardens cool, <br />And walked apart, and murmured low, <br />"Be merciful to me, a fool!’T. Ron Duncehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13245304543455678913noreply@blogger.com