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The World's Gone Mad.....
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By Michael P. Johnson
Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson


Foolish has grown this world of ours

Most everywhere we go

Fools control such deadly powers

Keeping the poor man low

 

So it has been since time began

Abel slew his brother

The devil took the keys from man

Who kill now one another

 

Taking their thoughts from God above

Placing our eyes on lust

Hate has replaced brotherly love

All flesh and bone to dust

 

In God’s image, man was created

Perfect and sound of mind

To mere ashes when cremated

Since foolish and spirit blind

 

But God to end His children’s plight

Brought forth His secret plan

He Himself would devil’s fight

To give those keys to man

 

God’s plan, the devil failed to see

Blind to hell’s flaming lake

When Jesus rose free off death’s tree

Satan saw his mistake

 

Too late; too late, was then his cry

Running amok on earth

But Heaven’s sheep will never die

Where faith conceives new birth

 

So just like cats seek after mice

In mansion, house, and slum

So bests will taunt, devils entice

To steal life’s smallest crumb…..


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Submitted: Tuesday, July 31, 2018

Last Updated: Wednesday, August 1, 2018

About the Poet
I never wrote a word of poetry in my life. Till the day Jesus took my hand and touched my soul.....I invite your response. However most poems are not about me! Very few are. But the feed-back good, bad or indifferent is always desired. Not meant to offend, but I write about many things in many a guise. Of life, death, lost, found, saved, backsliders, new comers, repenting souls, doubting hearts, heathens, Christians, fire, water, Satan's daughter, wallowing in sin, saved, made sound walking in Light, graceful righteous. Suffering, ecstatic, bored, excited, sad, delighted, Sick, well, lame, able, living, dying, etc. etc. etc. Writing about anything, everything and everyone as the spirit leads. All meant to reveal, waken, revive, encourage, shame, help. Gladden, pick up, exalt, portrait, liberate. Again over 99% of my work is not about me. Although at times I write as though I were or am. Speaking e.g. in the first person. This is quite common even in the bible itself. Prophets speak of themselves, then God speaks, again the prophet, then God......Quite often it's difficult to distinguish whom it is that at any given time is speaking or narrating.


Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson

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