As the trials of life come and go
Accept there blessings into your soul
Let them become without a doubt
A model of what you're all about
Don't let them get you all depressed
All things in life need be addressed
Let your spirit be like the wind
Your unseen dearest friend
As I see the lines in my face
Each a reminder of certain place
Do I wish they would go away?
Or that my hair wasn't turning grey
I have no desire to regain youth
For I have learned to speak my truth
When I was young I was so lost
I let my soul pay the cost
Running hard against the grain
Using drugs to kill the pain
Now I feel each and every day
Use the Lord to take the pain away
Do what I can accepting what I get
Treasure blessings that come of it
Thank the Lord through the poems I pray
Use what I need give the rest away
I seem to be driven by a single goal
Can you feel my heart and soul?
I slice them open in hopes they will bleed
Something that someone might need
The single fear I know so well
The fear that my words will fail
So once again I face my fear
As I write I shed my tears
Because these words are spoken true
My heart belongs to all of you
And through it's love I hope to show
We all share a single soul
A soul that is bound by love
Given us by the Lord above
I ran by this thing with haste, that malevolent beast as to school I went
Centered In a beautiful field i never played, because we all knew of the shallow graves.
We never saw them, no one dared to find them, and no one ever even looked
For the other children that were buried there, trust for a child is given by word of mouth.
The rumors grew, as the tulips did in the field that held That Old Red Barn.
A child’s fancy, the minds plaything sometimes given over to the rule of what it thinks must
Because Jennifer said it, it must be so; I don’t dare to find out the actual truth. I’m not that
So I leave it alone, this beautiful thing, because the cover does not always tell the story
If I had given it a second glance and not been so scared that I didn’t notice,
That just beyond the reaches of the trees at its circumference laid a house of golden hue
And in those walls, a grander story than even of that of “That Old Red Barn”
A family of two … now ancient to me spent their time growing corn and raising grain
That would one day come to the table I sat, nourishing me and giving me strength.
Letting me have the energy I need, to quickly run by “That Old Red Barn”
So that I could fly past this place that they built and in their hearts would always treasure
I don’t think that they knew of the fear it instilled all because of one child’s rants
But now that I know and am older now, I look out my front door and see what they mean
This Beautiful Field and “That Old Red Barn” once seemed a curious creature
Full of fear and malevolence, they were too old to invest the time to restore it to splendor
So I purchased from them all this vastness of pleasure, That Beautiful Field, and yes “That
Old Red Barn”
Written By: Ryland Joshua Matthews
There is a room in my mind where panic raids
And there I wander into my own bleak shades,
Where floors of phobia creak come midnight and dawn
As first breathing sounds of uncertainty are born,
Here, a wicker of fear wrestles more than it seems
More a fading face lost in the dark from screams,
Trying to wax this anxious, riddled heart again
As the mind races on visions of traffic scenes and rain.
Yet, there is an inner candle that never snuffs out
It lights brainwaves, and banishes deep doubt,
A halo gleaming from so near, never too lame
Though it knows not my name, yet it knows who I am,
For years, it has slid like waves in shimmering glade
Guiding fingers of hope with lit instincts I have made,
Until peace glows in the soul, telling me I am home
Knowing trust is the giver of life to end of my roam.
Debbie Guzzi’s Contest: Fear/ and
Brian Strand's Any 2012 Poem
By nette onclaud
I stare in the mirror, my tears fall in vain
Can’t see my reflection through the veil of this pain.
Who is this person I struggle to see?
I don’t want to judge her but it’s surely not me.
This stranger I cast looks so tired and weak,
I wish I could help her but I’m frightened to speak.
Cause it’s dark and lonely in this shell where I’m bound
Where once there was laughter, is now void of sound.
and the beauty I knew in just yesterday’s time,
seems gone in an an instant with life’s rythym and rhyme…..
Then GOD he spoke child…What do you mean?
You’re more beautiful than anything that I’ve ever seen!
The reflection you cast it don’t matter to me,
What matters is that you can see what I see.
That your spirit is filled with a breath that is true.
And a beauty so deep that this world can’t undo.
I know that your journey seems to heavy to bear.
But I’ve given you family that love and who care.
So hold on tight through the dips and the turns,
For the ones who believe are the precious who learns.
And wether your journey is to stay here or go,
Please know I love you so much more than you know.
I wish I could tell you the beauty that awaits…
But you will know only, when you see heavens gates.
I dreamt my mother mourned a broken doll,
porcelain, sad brown eyes, and five feet tall.
Entombed it in the finest place she could,
a cottage encircled by sunlit wood.
She danced a silent waltz with it, keening,
encouraging life in the wretched thing.
And it mended as she was worn away.
She did not hear when warned of her decay.
I was left a pristine porcelain doll,
and a broken mother in its enthrall.
Peer pressure of the worst no matter who they are
They can be a boy or girl that they believe to become martyr's
Strapped to these young souls, is something they just don't understand
Yet the cowards who persuade them to miss, becoming a woman or a man
What, where, why or when, does this quest justify it's means
For it arises in the warped depraved, in twisted confused dreams
For in this book that they all crave about, this they cannot do
It's against their religion to request the suicide of you
For all their Cleric's whom they are, they sit and witness so
Not one has ever spoken out, to stop this exploding blow
Why is this I ask myself, for they fear the bullet of a gun
Because it's easier to suppress their young, terrorism has again begun
Looking all around me and becoming more aware,
Of the people and surroundings at which many children stare.
I come to terms and realize the acts of hate I see,
And now I fear that this same scene will soon envelope me.
Walking on a lonesome road, though crowded it may seem,
I pass through silent hordes of people hushing silent screams.
Beside me standing hand-in-hand, older man and wife,
I wonder if they thought like me, what happened to their life.
I reminisce now further back before these broken days,
A time of wasting food and drink and dressing different ways.
But now we all look just alike in tattered grays and browns,
Drifting through these damaged streets and sporting matching frowns.
I thought we'd left the two world wars and poverty behind,
To linger in our broken books and fill an older time.
A time where death would cloud the world with sorrow and disease,
And fear would plant itself within the innocent with ease.
This made me think and look around for Noah and his arc,
And for the first time since the night I heard a flustered lark.
I quickly turned around to spot within a child's hands,
An injured bird whose time had brought it here from other lands.
The child stole a piece of thread from a redbreast robin's nest,
And wrapped around the ailing bird a splint so it could rest.
An hour past the lark took flight and answered to the wild;
The only resting place of hope is in the bright eyes of a child.
The nervous system originates in the brain.
Nerves send and receive signals to feel pleasure, fear or pain.
A baby’s diaper rash causes crying, pain and suffering,
Her torment needs attention , care and buffering,
She is so sensitive to pain, as were you and I ,
The slightest discomfort caused us to cry.
But because this is pain we can not now recall,
It does not mean we didn’t experience it all,
The nervous system is developed in Mom’s womb long before birth,
Of course, most people know this fact, for what it’s worth,
Why else does the babe instinctively move away,
When the medical probe is maneuvered her way?
She does not know the terms “women’s rights“, “choice” and “abortion”,
As she is killed, screaming in a fear and pain filled contortion,
But that baby’s pain simply doesn’t matter in this world of darkened lights,
She missed the boat when the flag unfurled for choice and women’s rights.
Dear child, you are just not old enough to be without pain and fear,
You see, we have too many excuses times one million a year.
May God buffer your pain my little friends when your shortened time is through,
And forgive your Moms and Dads for we may or may not know what we do.
And ask God to have mercy on us self blinded pretend Christians too,
As we vote for politicians who promote killing your siblings and you.
God bless you Chantel.
This is a repost of the poem written 5/01/2010 in answer to a charge that babies don't feel pain anyway so it's okay to abort them.
The news today 4/17/2012 (AP news) reports that the fetal pain abortion law which recently came about in three states because of the scientific proof that unborn babies do feel pain is now under attack because people want to kill the little ones anyway in spite of their proven torture.
Perhaps some day our society will become civilized and history will reveal these acts for the barbarianism that it indeed is. Until then let's keep praying for our youngest most vulnerable minority friends.
-Robert A. Dufresne
My nightmare is so tangible...so vividly I dream,
The dream, it feels so true to me...reality it seems.
Exhaust and smoke are all I breathe...the air is full of smog...
The job I do is thankless toil, but I work it like a dog.
There's mercury in the fish I eat...there're toxins in my food...
And drugs, they are a constant scourge...myriads for every mood.
Bipolar is my government...a house divided 'tis...
And corporations drive both sides...in the pockets of "Big Biz".
The icecaps, they are melting...the sea is rising, too.
Pandas, condors, polar bears -- empty cages at the zoo.
My money ne'er seems quite enough...I'm always out of cash...
My freedom fled when I wed my bride...(live I under the lash).
"Entertainment"? Reality TV...maybe some vampire shows...
Or idjits becoming household names for being beachfront "ho's".
People clamor "climate change" from the seats of S.U.V.'s,
And bitter news on the honey front...what's killing all the bees?
Politicians spending more...we go deeper in the red.
Opinions dressed as "news" abound...is journalism dead?
Cell phones are ubiquitous...conversation's endangered now...
And "Kardashians" are famous girls..but who knows why or how?
How strange my twisted psyche is t'make real what must be fake...
Now'f only I could find some way to get myself to wake.
Written on November 27th, 2012
By Daniel Beus (Rebel Sun)
“Act of God”
Past all understanding somewhere deep within,
A desperate need to realize something must begin,
Can't touch it with your finger, you must sense it with your heart
Life’s lessons take a lifetime few chosen vessels start.
To comprehend forgiveness, to feel mercy fall like rain,
Could never live within us had we not suffered pain.
Took a lifetime to discover, so long to understand
LOVE is the only act of GOD that we can do as man.
So love without abandon, just give and never ask
Be free from fear forevermore, discard the stifling mask
That keeps you from your destiny, that robs you of your peace,
God made you such a lovely soul, when will that self doubt cease?
Fear tells you you must keep it, Gods shows you… give it all
Your choice to live with open hearts one ransomed from the fall
Truth calls for you to hold her and embrace her child named Joy,
Hear these words, oh dear one please, my broken heart implores
To look into the cosmic mirror, find Christ in one's own soul
To hear these distant longings, see life’s mysteries unfold
Behold the love unseen; hear the whispers of one's heart
To gain true treasure sought of kings...now's the only time to start.
Lawrence Schrank and Caron Balman
( the 30 year poem)