Judas betrayed Jesus’s whereabouts
End, was near
Son of God, knew this
Universe of the Son of the Divine Father, restored
Sins of man forgiven, Prince of our Universal domain, alive in the hearts of his children
Earths people, it is time to wake up, the ‘Prince’ is alive!
Ascension available, access through your heart
Seek and you shall find!
Time is short, personally unite, connect as one
Rise to the occasion, celebrate the gift of life, bond, with ‘our lord Jesus’ and ‘our Universal Father in heaven, building a bridge, experiencing kinship, between human and spirit
***Happy Easter Everyone***
in the basket of the mind,
like easter eggs on sunday grass,
pastel hands for slowing time.
A misty- trusting face,
just beyond the frosted glass
a spirit mare with feiry mane
that licked the heart with lips aflame
your naive face...into the frosted glass of
Good times coddled a lavender star
within a blackened space,
in place of friendly smiles without names...
they taught you the art of
forging then forgetting scars
with a silly smile,
turned a room of bitter spirits into angels
and blueberry wine...
slowly sliced their lives away.
The golden armed drummer drums the songs of dream,
ice cream trucks and noon church bells
flow into the soul like rose petals on the wind...
strumming songs of love and hatred
like streams of bile and gilded rosary...
Everything is gone now,
the flesh-the bone the bitter laughs
the metal of youth churned into the thinning cloth of age.
Things meant to live and breathe,
will give the soul to the silversmith,
rolling life into shimmering dreams.
It's been seven years, I almost forgot-
not this day: but the distance we've climbed.
I couldn't remember my age, because it correlates
to years we've been apart.
I forgot to be apprehensive, this time it was sneaky.
It waited for the first happy holiday wishing
from some idiot to remind me.
It was Good Friday.
When God took your spirit home
and left me dying to know,
how to love him for his sacrifice
when he asked me to give up you?
How do I heal this death and rise with you in his arms?
I blasphemy, I know, but you loved him more
in sight of you that graceful place grows
pale in and foreign in mine eye.
Alas, I fail the test, I could not be as strong as you.
We knew it would not wait, but the parting was still to fast.
I sat in thought three days before your sleep and asked,
"In three days time my savior died, I wonder hence
what of my soul will rise with his?"
And sitting easter morning,
holding some idiots well wished basket,
I realised Three days passed.
He took you home and left me lost on Friday morn,
I wailed my loss through Saturdays more,
and Easter morning I felt your last hug, your kiss good bye.
I cursed my self for asking, if my soul would rise with his,
because you, my love, are my soul and all ready there
there fore I am not strong enough to give this pain up
to honor his sacrifice and transcend, I sit still lost and wonder:
I believe and I love, but I don't know how to rise
I don't now how to live again.
Faith crushed I don't think I can trust.
I am the shell of your grace trying once more
to live in the love that failed me, as I failed the gift of his sacrifice.
I hear the Bells, I hear the Bells
At morning, noon and night each day
They are a reminder of the time
A reminder of past days.
And I think to myself over the years
How many others have used them as I do
to also keep the time
To remember things as I do.
A time to worship, a time to eat
A time to marry, a time to meet
A time to put loved ones in the the ground
A time to let them take their leave.
These bells have many voices
Some happy and some filled with grief.
They resonate with me and in me always
I can still hear some of them in my sleep.
I can still hear the Bells of Christmas morn
Little children's faces filled with glee
I can still hear the Bells of Easter morn
Christ's resurrection paid our fees.
I can hear their sounds for when my children were born
A proud parent of a new family
A family that had numbered two
But was now happily three.
I can hear the Bells of Sunday worship
Ringing every Sunday morn
Celebrating God's awesome forgiveness
Celebrating the day that his son was born.
I can hear the Bells from loved one's funerals
As we lay their bodies to rest
Never ever wanting to say earthly goodbyes
Just trying to live through the sad day and do our best.
These bells are part of my daily life
They always have been and will continue to be
The Heralds of life's brief ticking clock
Unlike life, they will always continue to ring and to be.
I will use them to mark my moments
Both significant and mundane.
I will use them to always remember
To love my God and my church in every way.
I will use them to remember my family
I will use them to remember those friends I love
To be grateful for each of my children
To be grateful for just having had been.
I will use them to be grateful for all of the things in my life
To be grateful for all of those I love
To be grateful for each of my earthly days
To be grateful for the heavens above.
(December 30, 2010 Wausau, Wisconsin)
(c) Copyright 2010 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved
The True Meaning of Easter
The true meaning of
the Easter story,
Is God’s Son came down
to Earth from glory.
Jesus really does
love you and me.
He was born to die
that you might be free.
For 33 years, he lived
among sinful men.
Then one day was to be
an atonement for our sin.
He who was born of the
virgin Mary’s womb.
Was to one day rise again
from an empty tomb.
So many people have
gotten into a habit,
of replacing Jesus
with the bunny rabbit.
So please reach out to others
and let them know,
Of the lover and redeemer
of their soul.
The true meaning of Easter
must forever be said.
Of God’s son who died,
but arose from the dead!
By Jim Pemberton
I do not know?
Do You Believe In Easter?
Not colored eggs and treats.
But a crown of thorns on Jesus head.
Nails in His hands and feet.
Do You Believe In Easter?
Not Mardi Gras or ashes.
But Jesus who was crucified
And scourged with many lashes.
Do You Believe In Easter?
Not Peter Cotton Tail.
But Jesus Christ our Saviour
Who saved our souls from hell.
Do You Believe In Easter?
Not really knowing why.
Now you know the old old story.
Believe and receive everlasting life..
AS my chest gets pumped by the rescue team
I see my soul slowly hover over the scene
my life begins to flash I see me in my youth
stealing candy out the store in my Easter suit
I used to skip Sunday school and the bible lessons
but those vital lesson could have saved my adolescents
my mom stressing I was completely outrageous
my education wasn't between the text pages
was so impatient these streets fed what I was craving
It left mom weeping and waiting praying and pacing
with total dedication she would sacrifice
I'm out the back with hoodlums in the night
involved with all types of things that won't right
and moms used to gripe about what did each night
but Im in my zone
as a matter of fact I'm gone
leaving mom up waiting for praying for her son to come home
When I was a child, I expected lots of toys left by Santa Clause on Christmas Eve.
And planned to find an Easter Basket with candy and colored eggs every spring.
The Tooth Fairy visited when I lost baby teeth; all of those things I did believe.
I had no idea fantasia spread around by people to whom my love did cling.
When I was a teen, I began to dream a scene, eagerly awaiting my adult vista.
A boy and a girl in love, each firmly trusting the future with hopes and naivety,
Anticipating passion while cutting paper hearts decorated pink and fuchsia.
Aspiring to have a good husband, lots of money, education and a family.
When I became an adult, I struggled to find myself, my faith, my own viewpoint.
Possibilities were endless, chance and fate stepped up to life’s plate.
Decisions, sometimes blind and difficult, intruded; life had no checkpoint.
Gradually, childhood plans mutated; soon, prospects and dreams abated.
In time, I found that in the process of aging, possibilities are still endless.
Life and dreams function, not by probability, but by goals and decisions.
Achievement came at last, by finding focus and goodly principles; God is ageless.
My inner soul rejoices in freedom, with burdens lifted, I pray...in His garden.
© January 30, 2011
I wear the crown of hatred
misunderstanding and despair upon my hair
upon my back a wooden cross I bare
I know not why I’m hated so
all the people seemed to love me just a week ago
my skin is cut from head to toe
from whips of leather by men who wish to see me die
I spoke the truth for all the people to understand
my words of truth where words to set man free
from degradation hate and hell to live in harmony
for the rest of history
I cured the sick and healed the blind
with the touch of my own hand
I’ve walked on water and walked on sand
to preach and bring my truth through out the land
people came from all around
and would sit for hours upon the ground
I once had twelve good men who followed me around
now there’s only eleven one man let me down
my words have been mistaken
my God he has forsaken
for that my life they’re taken
I believe that I have failed
as my hands and feet are nailed upon this wooden cross
as they raise me in the air
all their sins I know I must bare
I want to scream not fair not fair
I’m just a young man I only wanted to teach
there are so many more people that I wanted to reach
my age is only thirty three
I pray my God
that they the people will remember me
written by Dennis H. Davis
this poem was written from the human aspect of Jesus Christ