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Intentions- a poem
By Tony DeLorger © 2012
Intentions worn and doubts instilled,
I’m tired of lies and men of ill,
transfixing me with guile and shine,
but of shallow deeds in heart remind.
When honour soared in freedom’s mind,
and purpose stood in strength and time,
of words considered a binding deal,
let no man break or thought repeal.
Once sought the word of men believed,
no qualms or selfish plans deceive,
and success was but from rules of toil,
no trickery or betrayal soiled.
Now, words are but the twisted needs
of those who gain from lies that lead,
to wrongs of damage and hurtful pain,
from silvered palms no guilt remains.
For bad intentions are rife and secure,
in downy nest all plump with silver,
the blood and bones of those dispensed,
rot beneath, a sad offence.
For trusting souls see not the ill,
in twisted minds of selfish skill,
attuned to honest, wholesome good,
ready to undermine, as misunderstood.
Hiding behind their shallow hearts,
offering pennies and sour tarts,
to drag their prey to loss and pain,
sucking life from every vein.
Intentions are not always obvious;
but actions are.