(_____ JESUS _____)
________(_______ HOLY SPIRIT_______)_______
___(_______________ KING OF KINGS_______________)___
(________________ EVERLASTING FATHER________________ )
(__________________ THE PRINCE OF PEACE___________________)
(_______________ LION OF JUDAH_______________)
(________ LORD OF ALL________)
(______ DELIVERER ______)
__(_______THE BREAD OF LIFE_______) _
_(____________THE LAMB OF GOD__________)_
(_________THE LIGHT OF THE WORLD_________)
N ever again will the Tribes of Israel be the sacrificial lamb of man.
A nnealed in furnaces not in Olam HaEmet by the Almighty "the World of Truth."
Z ealots rose from the ashes of the ovens and now defend like Sicarii of old.
I srael blooms and grows in the desert, returned by Allied Forces to the cauldron.
H ome to the Holy Land, sent, shipped, caste surrounded by Arab foe, isolated.
O vens melted their hearts, striped their forms for their souls held no intrinsic value.
L ampshades and shoes made from their skin, jewelry from the gold in their teeth.
O rders given by The Third Reich obeyed without conscious. The herd was culled.
C hrist-killer the Christian mind said, devil worshiper, their deaths were acceptable.
A nti-Semitism always has been and always will be a threat to Jews everywhere.
U nited, Jews must form a majority in Israel, so Jews everywhere feel safe.
S anctuary will never again being denied, Israel will be safe haven from persecution.
T o a future where all men have worth regardless of race, creed or religion, pray.
*Thanks to Arild Andresen Ertsland for his inspiring
From the Ashes
I have a special story I wish to share
About a seamstress beautiful and fair
She would fade away turning into smoke
Of her amazing beauty, no man would joke
The spiraling smoke would then re-form
I know only an angels face could be so warm
Before her a beautiful quilt was spread
Upon it the story of my life was said
As she once again started to dissipate
She said, “Mike this quilt records your fate”
As the smoke traveled over to a new place
And then formed together creating her face
Looking over her shoulder back at me
She said, “This area will hold what has yet to be”
Most of the quilt looked like twisted evil tattoo
Simply because, my life’s quilt was quilted true
I looked the quilt over and then met her gaze
She was so beautiful in so many different ways
The last part of the quilt way over to the right
Showed the beauty of someone changing their plight
Upon her beautiful hand, which seemed so nimble
I noticed she was wearing my grandmother’s thimble
From a young maiden so beautiful to see
My grandmother appeared right in front of me
I guess up in heaven we return to our youth
My grandmother was beautiful; such is the truth
I thought of the price grandma was asked to pay
The shame of knowing I had turned out that way
I thought of her sitting there stitching my shame
My grandmother didn’t deserve an eternity of pain
She said, “Michael be still with the pain in your heart,
Your story encourages others to make a new start.”
“The deeper the wrong the stronger the right
I always knew my boy would take up the fight”
With a smile much brighter than an ice covered sea
She said, “I love the man my boy has grown up to be”
As she turned to the quilt and started to sew
She said, “Michael, its now time for you to go.”
“Believe in your story believe in your truth
For Salvation is the true fountain of youth”
One night in a dream, which I’ll hold forever divine
I learned; my Grandmother is now,” The Seamstress of Time”
When I was a boy I would help my Grandmother roll
her quilt, find her glasses, as well as, her thimble. I
never thought about how amazing her art truly was.
From a pile of rags she would make the most beautiful
quilt's. I sleep under one of her quilts to this very day.
Somewhere in midnight’s nocturnal hallways
As the chill settles down with starlight
While the world stands silent in waiting
There abiding with his flock walks the shepherd
Hopeful in thought and yet weary of foot
He moves his charges through the bite of night
His hope in the coming dawn lifts his burdens
Filling his minds eye with warm musings of tomorrow
In tones they beseech the day and challenge darkness
But through this constant cycle of shine and shadow
The guardian of the flock stands steadfast and waits
The promise begins as His voice appears cherubically
Falling in fear and praying for strength of faith
The radiance in the sky softens ever slightly
Speaking of the vow and announcing the messiah
Who brings the world a love and a hope yet tasted
Tremulous breath’s as the promise is spoken
Awing the greatness with a loving and respectful fear
Silent in belief beholding the coming miracle
He stirs the somnolent flock down the slopes
To bestow upon all the gift of this divine hour
His breath brittle’s the final icy moments of dusk
He labors the trail with renewed strength of heart
Proclaiming hushed gratitude within every step
A beacon of brilliance converges in the heavens
Beckoning his faithful west toward little Bethlehem
Dropping to his knees his face wetted in thanks
Finally understanding what is gripping his soul
He sees the precarious pathway laid before him
Though he has journeyed into the unknown before
None had brought with it a promise so precious
There are times we are left to cope
With situations that drain our hope
Leaving us full of despair
At how some people just don't care
About the evil that they do
To good people like all of you
We are left to somehow face
That in mankind there is disgrace
And those of us left alive
Must find away to survive
As you pick up the pieces of your life
Without your mother, father, husband or wife
And some of you God forbid
Without the love of your kids
We must band together with a brotherhood
Show that in this world there is some good
Because we are together in this deal
We try to help each other heal
We seek in each other good advice
And offer each other sacrifice
We hold each other in prayer and song
As we continue to re-build the wrong
Because what else in the world can we do
Except let the light of good shine through
The evil darkness and despair
Of a catastrophic lack of care
We want you to know you are not alone
Think of America as a giant cone
And all of us are funneling through
Our prayers and hopes to all of you
Posted for Nathan's 9-11 contest
The fallen sons slipped off Creation’s lens.
To taste the sting from our own tree and fruit.
Their giants quarried till no place to stand.
Before these day’s deceiving shades of gray,
The prophet’s shutters opened wide to write.
Foretold of hate in focus driving nails.
Our Pilate’s wash in Silver Halide’s bowl.
For only one Son’s blood can fill the baths,
His saving grace developing the soul.
And now reflecting every color’s hue,
Presented flawless under Father’s sight.
This world to turn and from you it will take.
Endure this to the end and ride the light.
Contest: Black and white film photography
Sponsor: Giorgio A. V.
Entrant: Rob Carmack
Form: Iambic Pentameter
Words would fail me if I might assay
To articulate the courage of this man.
The numerous facets of his dossier
Are subject for song in a distant land.
Awakened in youth from serene dreams
By the melodious blast of Israel’s horn.
Tall standing received earth’s esteems,
Accepting God’s charge wherefore he was born.
His marble image cleaves the bluest sky,
And his halo is now a crown about his brow.
His peace of mind earth can no longer deny,
For he has now fulfilled his earthly vow.
It can only suppose with the midnight of the mind,
What may be reason’s welcome morning star.
One day he may return even more divine,
With a holier task from God who reigns from afar.
There’s no thunder heard from Sinai’s height,
And we see no parting waves at Jordan’s bank.
We have followed no truer soldier in our darkest night,
And now are marching on bravely in file and rank.
Rolling on in faith toward the welcome dawn,
The good fight won he’s earned the honor of Moses.
Now trekking the soul’s desert to the divine throne,
He follows God’s light up the street of yellow roses.
Pieces of history
We clutch to our chests
Which seek to crush us
For they hold us together
Making us stronger
More firm are we
In our resolve
To be one nation
Don’t point your finger at the thief
For losing sovereignty
It’s not the fault of Hollywood
If God, we don’t believe.
The pace of life accelerated
When first we wouldn’t wait
To seek Divine direction at
The start of every day.
Then babies resting in the womb
Broken, limb from limb,
With suctioned brains in bio-bags
Or moved to stem-cell bins.
Children raised by villages so
They won’t be in the way
Of self-absorbed, unfeeling parents
Selfishly at play.
We teach them they are primates
With no purpose to their life,
Then wonder why some children
Choose death to calm their strife.
Eight were saved from flooding rains
And four from Sodom’s Gloom,
Where are the righteous found today
To escape a pending doom?
The Second book, Chronicles,
Gives warnings we must heed
To evade the coming judgment in
Chapter seven and verse fourteen.
Yes, judgment stands before this land
We call the U.S.A.
The source is not the sinner but
Those called by HIS own name.
Would be better to deny HIM,
To remain one with the world,
Than to falsely represent HIM
And defile HIS HOLY WORD!
The third of HIS Commandment Laws
Means more than blasphemy,
It’s how we wear the name of Christ
When someone else can see.
God’s patience thins so GRACEfully
Til Israel stands alone,
Then comes our condemnation from
“I AM”, still on HIS throne.
Yet the only way to turn around
Fierce judgments sure to come,
Depends on true repentance from
The ones that wear HIS name.
To those of us, HIS Mercies claim
Let’s join, repent, and pray,
That GOD will heal our wayward land
And spare HIS WRATH today!
Ain't a word, you said.
but it takes a daring gust
for things start to be.
“Once very near the end I said, 'If you can -- if it is allowed –
come to me when I too am on my death bed.”
“Allowed!' she said. “Heaven would have a job to hold me;
and as for Hell, I'd break it into bits.”
Oh God, God, why did you take such trouble to force
this creature out of its shell if it is now doomed to crawl back
-- to be sucked back -- into it?
~ C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed
The division should be acute,
the before her, the with her,
the after her.
There is this constant
rattling of doors, though they remain
locked, in theory. I think of her
as gone until I turn a page,
read a passage of pompous
dialogue and she returns,
My Joie de Vivre,
entertaining me with that puckish
She smiles in the dusk with crusading
colours that bend dark horizons,
changing clouds, unexpectedly.
What was I before Joy?
Content, pleasant, productive.
But was I alive, aware of life,
its blissful rhythms?
the heart which awakened stone
no longer beats.
Finally, I understand.
Lessons are sharp things
which infect both fresh
and aging amputations.
What do I do with this knowledge?
It is like learning a language
that is no longer spoken,
a long monologue
unbearably forlorn, painful.
Faith dismisses hauntings,
yet she does so in daily degrees.
O, the sweet ghosts that peer
from those notes,
my name underscored in margins.
Why is there only one glove
in the sewing box?
Agony hunts me
in the garden. Perfume almost,
but not quite a match.
Some rooms have snares.
I dare not open a kitchen drawer.
Pain waits there.
The specter of my former self,
a staunch gent, so sure
of Heaven's role,
that cold bloke follows me
into the shadows,
land of man’s rage
and despair. There is no pretty
death, no words can comfort
the ravaged left behind,
There is no poetry
in our departing.
I only pray
there is Godspeed in mine.
The first thing that I recall knowing
As a sturdy and young olive tree
Extremely well rooted and growing
Was the sweltering sunlight on me
For two centuries I took deep root
To prepare for my ultimate fate
So when I could no longer bear fruit
There was then but a decade to wait
I was cut—left to dry for ten years
So that seasoned I’d perfectly be
For what the carpenter engineers
For admirers my beauty to see
Finally, the time came to carve me
Into the stout piece that would bear
The One who came down from His glory
I’d become a rough-hewn olive chair
Into the great city I traveled
The same city once fated for doom
Through alleys, then up a steep stairway
I was put in a small upper room
Beside the simple wooden table
I was placed in center position
Where the King who was born in a stable
Sat prepared to accomplish His mission
He prayed and broke bread with His brothers
As a symbol of what He would do
He blessed it then passed to the others
As His body; ’twas "broken for you"
Then to signify His precious blood
The red wine from the cup He did sip
So that it could cleanse as a flood
As from nail wounds it later would drip
To this day, I still can remember
How it felt when Christ Jesus did rest
I sensed that His love was so tender
Even when He was put to the test
He said, “Father, Father, forgive them”
As He faced His long prophesied death
The love for all things He had poured out
As He uttered His very last breath
Today, the risen Lord I remember
Whose story has long since been told
As I sit in the same dusty chamber
And recall that Last Supper of old
* Placed 1st in Deborah Guzzi's contest, "The Chairs Tale"
In this centrifuge of sanctimony
Where I sip the atrophied air of my ancestors
The shipwrecked tide of my unborn children
Angels dangle from a precipice of silence
Strained by strings of a theoretical God
Sung by eyes of defiance
Which navigate the jagged epitaphs below
For that one sediment of salvation
That one moment of submission
Hoping he will see
His wonders, atrocities, his indifference
To cast a shadow of conviction
Over shivering light
Across the inlet where ivory columns crumbled
And modernity now deftly mumbles
Its fleets of fortune baptized
Nigh the bronze dust of golden millennia
Where history lies with its victims
A fugue of fossilized souls
A silent prayer remains
I do not know?
She held me vice like
frozen to the floor
with just her eyes
those big blue eyes
her lashes were short
but her stories were long
and the tears lasted longer
than I'd ever seen before
In a person so young.
She didn't weep out of want
but out of need
for someone to understand
'too young' I said
but inside my head
for I had to be strong
she needed someone to depend on
and although i was younger
and couldn't interpret the abuse
I could feel the pain from her eyes
and I knew I needed to protect her
so I gave her a shoulder
and I tried to be bolder
I kept her away from him
whenever I could
slumber parties we lied
just to get her away
from the clutches of evil
in a normal house
where no one suspected
but I knew it's secrets.
Jesus is risen
untill the end
father spirit son
three in one
to our king
with thee amen
I do not know?
The little drummer boy....
He played this beat for you!?
But you could not hear
Still, he kept rapping upon that drum ~
Even as the salty tears they did flow
Standing all alone?
While the Heavens rains, began to pour....
Yet, still, he played ~
With somber upon his face
As the world about him
Continued to fade away?!
Drumsticks made of flames....
And Angels, that often sang
The tunes of tomorrows, beginnings ~
Amid, todays, shades!?
He played and he played and he played
But no one wished to dance
Because no one could hear or, see
Nor, did they ever understand....
Standing all alone?
They laughed while he stood
Watching, the mountains melting into the sea
The stars, waving their forever goodbyes
To the shadows, upon the rise....
Beating his drum, to these end of days?!
Creation unknowing bathed, amid their moment
Frolicking within the merriments
Beneath this blinking Sun ~
Living, but dying....
Holding tightly these, evaporating dreams!?
But still, he played; rap tap tap
As the end of tears; rain would fall
Yet, again, they could not see nor, did they hear
So, how could they have ever known?!
Though some did; oh, how they loved him so....
....The little drummer boy ~
Note: Smile ~ Just another repo; Winter 06' & 07'....
"Pride In The Name of Love," by U2 ~ "Love," John!:) ~
O Israel where are you
I know you are not a Jew
Joseph come home
come home O child come home
I spy David's thrown
we'll have to make preparations
to bring it back to Jerusalem
so that when our savior comes home
he will have a proper place to sit
there upon his fathers thrown
for sins the Lord with held the blessings
over twenty five hundred years
and then we suddenly received them
swiftly they fade away
think we will ever learn our lesson
think we'll ever straighten our ways
"Be sure to observe my Sabbaths
keep the sanctified day
do not go around worshiping idols"
now blessings are fading away
does anybody else know
what does the word of God say
soon the skies will be iron
and the land will turn to brass
plagues shall scald our people
and our cities will break like glass
that fell down from the heavens
shattered and scattered all to pieces
we should have obeyed the laws of our father
like we were told to by the great king Jesus
O Ephraim, O Manasseh
I pray we learn our lesson fast
so that the pain doesn't have to last
we will all soon be slaves
God's will and try to be brave
still I pray
my God have mercy
and I pray to see the day
when we all learn to live
within God's laws and learn his ways
O America, O Britain
nation overseas and mine
don't you know God is going to punish us
time after time after time
until we learn the way to happiness
and inherit eternal life
we will walk by the river of life that flows
I guess we’ll have to learn the hard way
I guess that's just how it goes
they don't believe God and they wont believe me
I guess that soon enough
everybody in the world will know
everybody in the world will see
In those days, and in that time, saith the LORD,
the children of Israel shall come, they and the children of Judah together,
going and weeping: they shall go, and seek the LORD their God.
They shall ask the way to Zion with their faces thitherward, saying, Come,
and let us join ourselves to the LORD in a perpetual covenant that shall not be
My people hath been lost sheep: their shepherds have caused them to go astray,
they have turned them away on the mountains:
they have gone from mountain to hill,
they have forgotten their resting place.
If we read the gospel well,
We notice no one rang a bell,
To announce the saviour’d come,
And then when we learn of his mum,
There’s no mention of her donkey ride,
Or of the animals inside,
The stable were the child slept,
It does not tell us if he wept,
And of the weather? Did it snow?
Well we simply do not know,
It rarely snows in the West Bank,
Would be unlikely, to be frank,
And was Jesus born at night?
Did they at least get that part right?
Well it simply does not say,
It mentions not the time of day,
And that’s not all, not by far,
Shepherds saw Angels, Not a star,
It doesn’t say they gave a sheep,
(They were poor and lambs weren’t cheap!)
The Bible tells us many things,
But did not call the wise men Kings,
It doesn’t even call them men,
It only calls them magi then,
It says nowhere they numbered three,
Or if from the Orient they’d be,
It does say that our Lord arrived,
Lived a good life, was crucified,
Just to take away our sin,
So heaven will allow us in,
And this is the truth I will defend,
But just how can a footstep bend?
I remember the dream of Austria
As the war for me was finally closing
High in my turret upon the Sherman
I entered this mountain paradise at last
Until I reached the earthly gates of hell
Within those eyes I found despair
That spark of life long dead
Their hearts filled of solitudes poison
Muted voices no longer calling out
Thousands of souls starving for hope
Existing amongst corpses who had lost it
Now just shadows of the once proud
Crushed by tyranny simply because they “were”
Empty men drifting about lost in a miring haze
Praying for the peace only death grants
So very few seemed to hold onto humanity
They had nothing to fear because all was lost
As I stood at the hells gates called Mauthausen
In that moment I found the truest of evils
Under the threshold of Hades a toxoid of hatred
Not truly comprehending what my eyes spoke
Numbed in fears I never knew subsisted within me
Standing frozen I wanted nothing more than to run
As the shell of that crying man fell in my arms
I am haunted by his words…”godheid bedanken”
My faith transfused giving him a moments hope
Within those high peaks of the songs of paradise
I lost my soul at the gates of a concentration camp
Every night since I hear his voice thanking God
He called us the wrath and thunder of reckoning
But…I was just a boy with rifle searching for a respite
The tragedy of a Miracle started today
Our Lord’s brutalized body passed away
Of all the tragedies in the history of man
This is one I try to grasp, but never can
For some reason I find it impossible to see
We crucified the greatest man in our history
Through all of the gain and all of the loss
It was a predestined coin man had to toss
I wonder how Pilot must have felt that day
He washed cowards hands in a cowardly way
Beaten and tortured, his skin ripped to shreds
As a thorny crown dug holes into Jesus’ head
While nailed to the cross he had one final goal
Through the mercy of love he saved another soul
He saved that soul and then our Lord Jesus died
Can you imagine the countless tears that were cried?
As we all know Jesus' body was placed into a tomb
To my minds eye it was no less than a spiritual womb
And from inside that womb salvation was born
For the tomb was found empty come Sunday morn
This is not how the story ends it is only how it starts
The Lord now lives up inside each one of our hearts
Even those lost in Prison, the ones like I used to be
Can turn to the Lord and then they will be set free
Freedom is a thing that I think we all strive to find
It is etched in our heart and engraved in our mind
I was locked up in a cell nestled tightly away
Facing several years that I would have to pay
Up inside of that cell I made my own decree
A true miracle was taking place inside of me
I was a very evil man and I was so proud to show it
In the wink of an eye I was transformed into a Poet
I learned there is only one way to truly be free
Ask of the Lord, “ Jesus please come unto me”
And just as the Lord Jesus Christ rose up out of his tomb
We can all live with-in the comfort of his spiritual womb
I am just a figment of your mind,
You create me, and perfect me,
I become your every dream.
I am just a wind that is passing bye,
I carry no emotions, only stories,
That my Ancestors whisper to me.
I come and I speak,
Like the White Buffalo of our tales,
Here and then gone.
I lend my essence to heal,
As the rain does for the land,
Though I could easily destroy.
I am just an image in the smoke,
Dancing as the [Ga lv quo di] pipe,
is passed from one to another.
I am just the beat of the drum,
The call in the night,
As you dance around the fire.
I am just the feather of the Eagle,
And that is all that will be left of me,
A memory of a dream.
Beside the last pew,
a chipped white collection plate.
A ghostly blessing
if you toss a modern coin
through time and the barred front door.
Dream on man
War is constant
It has gone beyond
Catholic or Protestant
From our short lived past
Will never dilute
As long as we last
In this modern world
We fight for different reasons
What ever the excuse
And in any season
We fight over land
Even over soccer
How the hell can that be
We now fight over oil
In a camouflaged war
Taking innocents with us
In public deplore
Bombing with precision
We vote them in
As they twist their decisions
Dream on man
War has changed
Greed has taken over
From the pasts deranged
I do not know?
"In the beginning was The Word, and The Word, became flesh...."
"This is the day that the Lord has made
And I shall be glad and rejoice in it...."
I have often wondered if people really know
What is being said within this verse from Psalm 118?
But it always leads me back, to the countless other verses
That I have been blessed to read, through the Holy Spirit of God
How the prisoners have been set free....
With Heavens Angels encompassing, those, who truly love "Him"
And though ten thousand, of the enemy surround us, we shall never fear!
For God is within us; indwelling us with hope and might....
These Temples built, by The One who created all, of "Light"
Life, and all that is good; from Genesis, to Psalm 104
Every word ever written, within This Treasure, called, "The Bible"
Our guide, our hope, our deliverence; the promise, of eternal paradise....
For as God has said, "Angels and Prophets, have longed to know
What wonders of love, that He Himself, has given us, 'Through Christ!'"
Freedom from the bondage of sin; and a bridge back home, unto "Heavens Throne"
All, if only they shall, return, unto His loving arms?
They, that have longed to hold us, since before, the foundations of time....
Oh praise God, all of you His children, praise, "His Holy Name"
For who is like unto Our Father; who can stand, before His mighty wrath?
Surely not the fallen angels, whom tremble, at His very sight!
And if He did not spare they; though they be mightier than us; or even, "His Only Son"
Then how can the godless ever believe, that He shall somehow, spare them?
No, for truly, wisdom begins in the house of the Lord....
In this the day that He has made, for all of those whom love Him!?
Whom turn from the darkness and the evil desires of this world
The wantons of pleasures, powers and lust; mere dust
Casting aside their pride and ignorance; naiveness; amid the idols of baal
These secular things....And turning again, with their heads bowed down, to
"The Father of Light!"....Accepting His Son's Sacrifice...."Through His Precious Blood"
..............................................."The Blood, of Life!"...............................................
And I shall forever, rejoice, within "It!"
~ The Books of Peter ~
I do not know?
Lord, I believe in You and myself,
With You I can do almost anything.
Even if I'm overweight...
I believe You'll keep me alive until the day
You want me back home with you.
I'm sorry for my sins
And all of us are imperfect humans:
Debating about beliefs, greedy thieves,
And everything else you hate.
So please forgive all of us and open the gate
To Your Heavenly Kingdom.
Have Your Son save us all.
Sometimes I believe I don't deserve You
And Your Promise for Eternity,
But Your Son's words reassure me.
I feel scared of the destruction in Your Revelation,
But remember You'll keep me safe
If I just forever keep my faith.
I do not know?
For every time we take a breath
And every time we stop to rest,
To look around at all that grows
Embracing all the love that flows.
Every rose has its thorn
Just like every night has its dawn
For every tear of sorrow we weep
The new day of thousands in forgotten sleep,
Unhinged the heart of one more soul
For King or Queen or eternal goal.
Every rose has its thorn
Just like every night has its dawn
The last of the tommys lays his wreath
For next time he may lye beneath,
Reunited with friends separated long ago
To re-live the highest high and the lowest low.
Every rose has its thorn
Just like every night has its dawn
For every rose
For every thorn
For every darkness
Unveils a new morn
I came from the islands in the Far East
Where the bird of prey will rise
That’s being prophesied, but I’m sure
I’m not that One, for I possess not the golden rule
Though, I searched for years in Lenin’s name
Instead, I saw an empire fell from fame
Leaving behind my Caucasian brother
Watching his home town turned grey
When the desperate bombed it
By fate, once was a sailor with wan smile
Sailing the deep blue to catch the elusive dreams
Yet, I ended up alone, drinking ouzo
In the queen city of the Gentiles
Where I found my mortal half
She wrapped me, with her love
Now, I juggle my time from here and
To the city of lights, to be with my bloods
But my skin betrayed me
One day, when I wanted to see my god
Imprisoning me for hours and les bleus
Were questioning the colour of my skin, but
Thanks to Heaven Above, for I’m still alive
Why do others can easily spoil the beauty?
Of my beloved, and yet, I can’t even glance
Theirs, nor taste just the smell of their soil
Without being questioned
Or, being stared from head to toe
What if I do the same?
Non, don’t panic! I will not, for
I've no power to change the name of the game
Maybe some day, but right now
I’ll focus myself to my new found joy
In the arts of writings
And will keep honing my craft to perfection
Till I free the miseries deep inside…
Since I saw the first dawn thirty nine years ago
In the beautiful archipelago
Bearing the Spanish name
For she was sealed tight with a fist
People, unite and let’s make peace
Listen to the messenger of these last days
The simple things I really wish….. for all
Happy Valentine my love
First I want to say you're often thought of.
Then I must say you mean all the world to me
And to my heart you have the master key.
I love you more than words can say
Which is in a very special way.
You're my closest,and dearest friend
What we have is forever lasting,and has no end.
Our love is divine,genuine,and very rare
No other can compare
To this tender love we share
That's why we're such a unique pair.
I believe this is a word of advice or warning
More than it is a poem
I don’t even know where to begin
To express the things I feel
How deeply I believe in my understanding
Of what’s to come
As well as
What has been
As I watch our Government
To solve our nations problems with money
As did all the great Empires in History
That has crumbled before us
My heart bleeds for the people
Who have no concept
Of how to grow their own garden
Raise their own beef
Fish, hunt and live off the land
Which to be quite frank is about 90% of the population
What is going to happen when the people
Can no longer feed their families
Out of the local supermarket
Because when they go there
All they will find is a sign that says “Sorry out of business”
Ponder this for just a moment if you will
800 hundred billion may as well be 800 trillion
Because the simple fact is
None of it is even worth the price
Of the paper it’s printed on
And by the time our Government prints that money out
It will be even more worthless than it is today
BECAUSE THERE IS ONLY ONE WAY
To reverse the wrath of God
And that is through prayer
And I don’t see Congress
Falling on their knees
Begging for mercy
Before they start to argue about which idiot has the best idea
To fix what their intelligence has already destroyed
“ONE NATION UNDER GOD”
One of my first memories of what I was taught in school
Every Empire that considered themselves above the wrath of God
“GOD HUMBLED THAT ASS” (Pardon the Language)
And guess what