To handle words from God

Mosiah 13:4 -- ". . .  because I have spoken the word of God ye have judged me that I am mad."

To handle words from God requires discipline of mind;
otherwise their power the most sturdy brain can grind.
They act just like a two-edged sword that can be grasped awry,
causing pain and anguish and the innocent to cry.
Beware the words you quote when judging others -- sacred writ
should never be a weapon unless hearts are pure and fit.
Tis madness preaching scripture to a tyrant, unless called
by the power of the Lord and by Him so installed.
Live the words of power, study them for your instruction;
but leave to those anointed all the preaching of destruction.

Scientists Grow Chicken Embryos With Dinosaur Legs In World First

(Inspired by a story by Lauren Kruczyk)

I guess we call 'em eggheads for a reason, after all;
those guys who use young chickens for their crazy protocol.
They're fooling with some powers that extend beyond the reach
of mankind as it skirts the waves upon an endless beach.
There are some things that we are not meant to know, or even guess.
Like dino legs on chickens, or why children make a mess.
We should not graft a chicken head upon an apple tree,
or try to implant gizzards in a platter of fresh brie.
Making chickens lay square eggs is cruel, and won't avoid
loud squawks from all the chickens when they get a hemorrhoid.
You researchers should stop annoying chickens and instead
try to figure out what's inside Donald Trump's thick head!

We are guiltless . . .

Mosiah 12:14 --  "And now, O king, behold, we are guiltless, and thou, O king, hast not sinned; therefore, this man has lied concerning you, and he has prophesied in vain."

The leaders of the nations do not recognize their faults;
their people, too, would rather keep their failures in deep vaults.
When prophets plead repentance there is none to make afraid
 and the path of truth, less-trodden, becomes closed with stern blockade.
The Lord will crack the shells of despots, leaders, and their mobs,
until their insides melt like wax and ev'ry nerve end throbs.
From the house tops to the cellar, deeds of darkness must reveal
all the filth of mankind's doing -- O, how much can our God heal?
Mighty though He is to save, there's some, like wretched Cain,
who never come back to the Light and in the night remain.
Save me, O God, from tyrants both outside and well within,
that purity may rule my heart and never vote for sin! 

The List

From the Wall Street Journal: "Registries have proliferated rapidly in the U.S., experts say. While some lists restrict access to law-enforcement agencies or fire officials, others can be viewed online by anyone, according to the National Conference of State Legislatures. In addition to the 50 states that publicly track sex offenders, five states including California require registration for arson. Minnesota, Illinois and six others maintain lists of methamphetamine producers. In Indiana, a public website lets visitors use Google Maps to find the location of homes that have been used as meth laboratories. Tennessee requires registration for animal abuse— something nine other state legislatures are debating. Florida law requires registration by anyone convicted of a felony of any kind for up to five years after completing the sentence." 

When stern justice has been served, and a felon serves his time,
then it's only fair that he can move past his woeful crime.
Anonymity assures that mistakes stay in the past,
so the guy or gal is free from all bigotry or caste.
But the zealous Pharisee, the unbending martinet
 wants to make a little list that all ex-cons will regret.
Not allowed a second chance, with his mug shot so displayed,
the former inmate finds himself in shackles still arrayed.
May all unforgiving men, who want vengeance measured out
with a steam shovel become of themselves a thing of doubt!

My Prostate is Teal

From the Wall Street Journal:  "A Wall Street Journal survey of the 25 U.S. counties with the largest unauthorized immigrant populations found that 20 of them have programs that pay for the low-income uninsured to have doctor visits, shots, prescription drugs, lab tests and surgeries at local providers. The services usually are inexpensive or free to participants, who must prove they live in the county but are told their immigration status doesn’t matter."

 I'm trying to be lib'ral in my thinking day by day,
 and granting to all others their just rights to work and play.
But in the past few years I've gotten bills up the wazoo 
from hospitals and doctors who say "No insurance? Pooh!"
I don't go to the ER just to shoot the breeze, you know;
or get an operation just to have a scar to show.
My itty bitty pension doesn't pay for such insurance --
so healthcare people treat me like I must have great endurance.
I've put off medications and procedures by the score,
hoping to get better (or at least avoid death's door).
And now to read that freebies come to those who are illegal
knocks me for a loop so that I'm just about spread eagle. 
So pardon me if envy turns my prostate rather teal;
 I'll sneak across the border for a decent payment deal.

Seeking Lamanites

Mosiah 10:1 -- "And I caused that there should be weapons of war made of every kind, that thereby I might have weapons for my people against the time the Lamanites should come up again to war against my people."

And who makes war upon the Saints if not themselves betimes?
Whose pride and sloth and hubris in the eyes of God are crimes.
Instead of seeking Lamanites to blame and smite and fret,
we're better off to ask ourselves "O Lord, what lack I yet?"
So send an army, if you must, inside to your own soul --
to win the only real war for the world's complete control. 
For if we fight our own desires til they are made pure,
we can be sure the Lord of Hosts our battles will secure!

The Nain Rouge

What's red and black and scaly, with a laugh just like a horse?
In Detroit environs it's the darn Nain Rouge, of course!
This imp of French extraction is sure blamed for all the woes
that came upon the city while it was in its death throes.
Me, I think that there are more than one Nain Rouge around;
they function in the White House and they cover lots of ground.
There's one that pays my taxes and has never got it right.
Another causes gridlock and delays my airplane flight.
The Senate -- THERE'S a hot spot for the Nain Rouge, yessiree.
They've got more of them there than there are leaves upon a tree!
To placate these red devils you must offer them some graft;
so really, what's the diff'rence between Congress and witchcraft?

The Mighty Aaron Eagar

On the twenty-second day of March good Aaron Eagar

earned a letter from the Governor (and so a free star).

The Utah County Weed Department was recognized, through him,

for pursuing noxious weeds with vigor, stealth, and vim.

 His dedication to eradication of these weeds

has him raising them in Orem from their common seeds

just so he can figure out what poisons will work best

to lay those dandelions to their final deserved rest.

He is a foe to pigweed and to hoary cress, you bet!

Spotted spurge he decimates; he gives henbit cold sweat.

The mighty Aaron Eagar simply laughs at downy brome.

He uproots ev'ry puncturevine, right by the rhizome!

All you thistles, mallows, and sharp nettles please take heed --

you'll be endangered species now, in word and very deed!  

My door towards the temple

Mosiah 2:6 -- "And they pitched their tents round about the temple, every man having his tent with the door thereof towards the temple . . . "

My door towards the Temple, my face towards the light;
my spirit is climbing up from the dark night!
My compass, O Lord, help me keep to True North,
to the House of the Bridegroom that joy may come forth!
Cathedrals and stupas, though dazzling grand,
are only the work of man's unsteady hand.
Thy dwelling place no mortal fist may decree,
until it is sanctified wholly by Thee!  
   

Hiking

Hit the road, my parents said, when I was but a lad,
now that you've an appetite and are a high school grad.
And so I trudged down paths and trails to see what I could see;
and found myself with bunions, boils, and socks that smelled like brie.
I vowed that when my ship came in I'd never hike again --
but loll upon a davenport just like a broody hen.
My vessel must have sunk somewhere just off the coast, alas,
since I kept marching onward but all wealth did me bypass. 
I've hiked the Appalachian Trial a dozen times so far,
following a will-o-wisp I thought my rising star.
 My nickname is Bad Karma; it's because when I return
the only thing that I bring back is sizzling sunburn . . .