(Mostly) Pandemic Poetry: With a Christian View

By John Milano

This book of poems was prompted by the author's separation from his wife during the pandemic (family medical care) and his despair of events unfolding in 2020. It includes poetry written during the virus, as well as from throughout his life which are pertinent to today's topics, such as societal ills during the COVID-19 lockdown-faith, drug abuse, war, racism, love, and sexual issues. The book has both Christian and secular influence.

This book is a reaction to the viciousness of our treatment of each other as humans, and the hypocrisy of the Church and the government. The author looks past our shortcomings to an optimism, remembering that to be a genuine human being is to have conviction and courage.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: May 12, 2021
• ISBN: 9781662427596

Book preview

Maybe Someday

The ringing in my ears never goes away.

It gets louder and louder, but maybe someday.

It’s not my inclination for evil you see.

A mortal car crash and I must turn my head and peek.

Do you really believe the lies your teachers and media divas embrace?

I really can’t blame the anarchy droids for being such slaves.

These kids have blank faces, worthless lorem ipsum.

As if Satan himself burnt their masks from beauty down to dry gypsum.

Such rebellion I see on the films today.

We will never be normal again, but maybe someday.

We fight the principalities who have such human hatred.

It’s difficult to believe this is what God created.

No longer a republic but a mindless dictatorship.

Marked by a complacent ignorance, never deviating from the covenant.

They have utopia in their minds, but live in vile excrement

of a delirious hysteria, repeating over and over the same failed experiment.

It’s getting dark, my eyes are fully dilated.

Statues are coming down; the mindless agitation is elevated.

The next thing they do is cure the ringing in my ears.

I’m dead now, but remember you are tasked to persevere.

I’d love to live in a world church triumphant in even the smallest of ways.

I can’t see that far, but someday.

July 4, 2020

So Many Hills on Which to Die

On what hill do I want the war to unfold.

How could you reject your masculinity, living in revolt?

Feminism is sadistic, and out of control.

But now men make better women, and will take over their roles.

Her progressive daddy died while in office.

He would never sign a law, unless it was an omnibus.

They put in more and more nonsense, until you feel nauseous.

Cooperate with no one, and always move real cautious.

The planes with the chemical trails are up and looming.

My testicles are full of the poisons they’re using.

The tectonic plates never stop, they keep on moving.

My body is covered with boils, with green pus oozing.

Tiny nations tired of the oppressive big bully.

Goliath is trying to make fake islands out of tin foil and fury.

But they back the bully down, because its soldiers are pussies.

It’s foreign policy now, which I don’t understand fully.

Is this the beginning of world war three?

The soviet gone so long that I forgot about thee.

They always said it would be Europe, but I respectfully disagree.

Europe’s already given up its freedom, overrun and sleepy.

Our churches are shut down, apparently nonessential.

Our bishop’s faith is as big as the tip of a pencil.

They live for grabbing money, their greed is prehensile.

Compared to our shepherd ancestors, they’re quite inconsequential.

The wolves are running wild because local politicians do nothing.

These wolves are fully evil and equally cunning.

They’re earning a hell with no end to their suffering.

And I’m not condemning, I’m simply judging.

The economy is gone for the sake of a flu.

The new world order crowd is attempting a coup.

But maybe they overplayed their hand, without thinking it through.

I can only hope it backfires, with good people turning their plans askew.

So many hills to choose from, where do we begin?

Keep yourself holy, and free of any sin.

The power will come from above and within.

Remember in the end the jackal is defeated, and the Lamb of God wins.

June 30, 2020

How Many Os in Stooopid? (The New Barbarians)

One foot tripping over the other.

Back twisted into a futile construction.

I can’t feel my arms or legs.

All my plans fail to reach function.

It was to be the last job.

It was to be the last murder.

It was all in the fate of global hypocrisy.

Please stop searching and look no further.

Eat your bacon and cabbage.

Quick, speak, I can certainly believe.

Got a reputation they just can’t shake.

An insidious progression and ability to deceive.

There is always something behind.

Nimrod, the dictator of confusion.

This is not a single heresy.

It’s a ubiquitous failure of conviction.

Ecumenism is the opium of cowards.

Bloody revolutions could not accomplish what did a simple infection.

There is nowhere left to run to though.

I live in town in the barbarian section.

If you desire to live in the Newtonian universe,

you have to deny the Trinity.

That’s what Sir Isaac had in mind all along.

As he dreamed up another false divinity.

If you leave all to God alone,

you will see God in all things.

If you stand with the load on your shoulder,

you will kneel before the pagan kings.

If you choose to trust earthly princes.

If you deny the power of Christ.

You will, in the end, be left wailing in darkest shadows,

drowning in a lake of sulfurous despite.

June 29, 2020

Tagged for Pleasure

I’m damaged goods, on the outskirts of hell.

When judgement day comes, don’t stand behind me.

Don’t follow paths, don’t follow with reason.

Spin like a drunken man with an aerospace degree.

Full of self-love, love of the world, and despair.

Passions are fine-tuned, a vicious enslavement.

My sins are forever young, with hormone-soaked virility.

Sins of unveiled eyes, lusting for entertainment.

Chakras concealing the undercover serpent.

Crystals with demon fire locked within.

Tarot cards playing as if innocent revealing.

Ouija board is fondled and the evil begins.

A metaphor of illegal immigration into body and soul.

Bringing their STDs and blasphemies, a pool of discontent.

Looking through a corrupt prism, emotionally diseased.

Playing stupid games, until your sanity is spent.

I am the cargo in the busted-up package.

I can’t read Shakespeare; I don’t speak the language.

They took all the gold, and all of my baggage.

What do I do now, it will take years to manage.

June 27, 2020

A Day Will Come

There are so many spiders now and they’re all hairy.

I know it’s weak, but I still kill them anyway.

Wagner is playing again in the streets, waiting to take control.

Their colors are effulgent, as is their capacity to betray.

These equations won’t balance our passion on one side, their insanity on the other.

Even in the schism of things, every life is sacred.

The fools think their bloody mathematics will save them.

But what they really depend on is their own demonic hatred.

Those who are slaves to violence, and it’s unnatural.

Whether to compounded daily interest that makes the truly barren, fruitful.

Or the liberated who are still addicted to sexual identification.

I’ve seen their flags, and it’s nothing if not brutal.

Please get off the fence, it’s truly malevolent.

Release yourself from the world, God is not fooled.

Worship Him without time, memory, imagination, or burden.

Until the day of the Lord, when all evil is removed.

June 24, 2020

15.85 Grams

I’m exhausted from no sleep, overcaffeinated, and drunk.

This perception bred me over and over again.

It’s not a romp through history, but through a man’s brain.

I’d rather have faith, beware the invasion of Zen.

Stuck in little boxes, with exclamations over their heads.

He won’t wear the jewelry but will wear the ink.

Mouths gone dry from fear anew.

It’s so tragic, refuting Darwin, or at least making you rethink.

I’ve finally overcome my fear of death.

Now I must conquer my fear of men.

I must accept even the deadliest of crosses.

Relinquishing my fear of wishing not