Raymond’s Song

I write this poem in honor of my dearly departed cousin Raymond, who entrusted with me the carrying out of his deathbed decree. 

For false relatives continue to flock like vultures over their would be victim’s heads, and some continue to treat me and their dying son and brother’s last words with as much ignorance as they would wish upon their victims. They have replaced their false sympathy for those who suffer with empty threats and promises, for now no one will pay them a false allegiance.

Yet they act as if dark deeds have never before been challenged.

They are all becoming like one troubled soul I know, who thinks the state can take away his earthly mansion, for not doing the bidding of an evil man. 

As for me, as long as I have a voice and live on this earth, I will continue to rejoice and sing Heaven’s Song.

For as Raymond said it, they don’t get it.

They just don’t get it anymore.

It is not us who are suffering.

Never was.

Never will be.

And never will be ever after.

 

Help of the helpless

My dear family

This is my deathbed


Fear not, abide with me



The dark shadows lesson

God’s means and ways made clear

Oh my sweet family

Awake, abide with me


For my dear Lord Jesus

Bearing gifts

He calls to me

Like Christmas morning

Rejoice, abide with me


This is no false vision

In Heaven I’ll awake

For no actions I have taken

For false or pity sake


Hear my Last Word 
and Testament

Heaven’s story I will tell

Trust is not forbidden there

False charity is hell


God does not abandon us

Or withdraw His Father’s Love

When we cannot do His will

As injured sparrow, lamb or dove


Renovate God’s mansions

Like flowers in the Son

Tether not the captives

The misfits that you shun


Long I loved you in life

No false attempt to charm

Ne’er false words spoken

To no gentle brother harm


Help of the helpless

Lean close  dear family

Abide with me forever

Lean close and hear and see


I have loved this life too dearly

Vultures pass not where I lie

I have loved this death too gladly

To speak error while I die


The motive of  intention

Will remain forever clear

Do not reward with slavery

Intervention do not fear


For at birth we are delivered

Through His Image all made same

But through death we are delivered

Wild and free God calls by Name


You are not the help of helpless

Nor the spouse to marry me

You are not celestial virgin

Infant born beneath my tree


Let us build the City of God

Make haste abide with me

Mother’s house is in the after

Abusers’ kingdoms will not be

 

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