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Narrative Philosophy Poems | Narrative Poems About Philosophy

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Heinrich Heine Revisited

I can clearly sense your utter despair of Der Matratzengruft*
As you valiantly carried on your poetic works to the very end.
This did not change your literary accomplishments well-known,
And your courage through the misery and morphine* is undeniable.

Your lyrical poetry speaks volumes among all of German literature,
And it was most marvelously set to music by the likes of Schumann,
Schubert, Silcher, Mendelssohn, Brahms, and Strauss—to name a few. 
Their melodic tones as applied to your verses then, now live on forever!

Your role in and principal contributions to Romanticism fall in line
With the highest quality of your poetic language and its intention.
Your role in battling early nineteenth-century censorship in Prussia set 
You out front of many of your contemporaries who resisted much less.

It’s so tragic Herr Heine that your literary resistance so prominent in
Challenging Prussian censorship would make you ever so more noted,
And besmirched as the Nazis in 1933 burned your books and those of
Other German scholars as a reflection of their insane and twisted beliefs!

It’s with great irony indeed that the banning and burning of your works by 
The Nazis was parodied further by them as they ignobly quoted and used
Your famous line from “Almansor,”* when you likened that “where books 
Are burned, in the end people will be burned too.” We know what they did!

And so, with both honor and sadness I do understand the very cry of lament
From the confines of your mattress-grave about your final exquisite poetry,
Written through writhing pain and tears as you faced the end of your life.
It took great courage to face your end like this while staying true to your Muse!

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved (December 15, 2014) 
(Narrative Quatrain poetic format)

*Der Matratzengruft from the German means “The Mattress-Grave.” 
(Heinrich Heine was confined to his bed, his “mattress-grave,” in 1848
with various illnesses until his eventual death eight years later in 1856.)

*Heine poetically referred to his pain predicament in the poem “Morphine,”
written near the end of his life, when he noted in two famous verses: 
“Gut is der Schlaf, der Tod ist besser—freilich / Das beste waere, nie
Geboren sein.” (In English: “Sleep is good, Death is better—of course, /
Best of all would be never to have been born.”)

*Almansor was a play written by Heine in 1821 that had a most famous 
line in German: “Das war ein Vorspiel nur, dort wo man Buecher verbrennt,
verbrennt man auch am Ende Menschen.” (Rendered in English: “That was
but a prelude; where they burn books, they will ultimately burn people as
well.”) The significance here is that as the Nazis burned the books of Heine
and other German artists on the Opernplatz in Berlin in 1933, they actually
celebrated this event by “engraving” Heine’s famous words from “Almansor”
in the ground at the Opernplatz site. The obvious depravity of this terrible
event reflects the innate cruelty, stupidity and evil of the Nazis as they 
burned the books and defiled the names and reputations of Heine and other 
famous German writers. Their actions were monstrous and shameful, and 
were indicative of mankind’s base instincts at their very worst. Moreover, 
despite converting to Protestantism from Judaism in 1825, Heine’s Jewish 
origins played a continuing presence in his life and were one of the major 
factors for his being scapegoated by the Nazis later in 1933. And besides,
the Nazis were always more interested in burning books, rather than 
reading them!  

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Light On the Devil's Chord -Day 1

And the music began,
And with power so strong, I nearly fell back from the force
Snarling, smiling, demons held me upright,
As the Precarious Prince began,

“Dare you in silence come to me, Daughter of Eve,
To challenge my wisdom with your lust to sing,
A child of God—you provoke His flea,
A monster in the dark—a sight to see!

In meditative silence, I was ever blooming,
The passion for power in my mind consuming,
In silence, my brilliance berated all other
My beauty, shocking, my wings of color

Etched in golden array, 
Silence was my everything,
A bud so tight, so light, so moist,
In heaven bright—its beam rejoiced!

And now, as knowledge, as power do burst,
I sit in silence, though in the worst
A quiet so perturbed your stomach curbs,
I long in luster for demons to disturb

Silence, once a subordinate to my wit,
Had found its way into this grimy pit,
Where now your God has given me,
A work of sloppy treachery…

Had I been He, and He been me,
I would throw His heart into the sea,
And watch the eels suck each artery
And listen to his lullabies for a century,
To feel his spirit sweat in the flames of my power,
I would shred his head on the highest tower,
Give him something to really Bab-bel,
Make him wish Eve had crushed that apple” 

He smiled at me with teeth protruding, 
Head craning,
Keenly waiting for my reply
My throat was insanely dry, and my heart racing
I had expected more, yet expected less…
And now all my wits were a wretched mess

Yet still Death severed those deep bass chords..
I began as a child would, with a doubtful sigh,
I wondered yet again what kind of trouble I was coming by
And inspired by The Reaper’s little push, I began

“In my days in your presence, dear one
Silence shall not roam too close,
I do not sing to disdain you,
Rather to know you, 
I do not grow quiet,
To decompose you…”

I stopped for a moment, 
To see him staring rather attentively,
As if he were expecting a miracle
His almost angelic expression changed as quick as it came…

“Go on…” He demanded. “Sing me what your God would have sang…”

“You speak of silence, in the fogs of doom,
In your pit you dwell, and with a child you make room,
I have ached long in the vision of your cries,
Watching the happy children, and the relieving sighs,
I imagined you just as I see you today,
A beautiful sufferer, with wit, bite, and sway
Crushing courage in your wake,
I implore you—you quake
Moments like these I will never forget,
To win, to lose, to KNOW I wait yet!
What is it with man and his thirst for the truth,
Leading him to fall, to intercede his youth,
And as I do now, wrong or right,
By God and his angels has found delight!
Allowed me with confidence to face you Prince,
A sauntering being of ire and impertinence
I see where your attention bleeds,
I see your mind and I see your needs
Such darkness must now allow some light,
By accepting my challenge—a bravery so bright
Do I mean to admire you, accept you, despise you
Am I hear to judge you, taunt you, transpire you
You and you alone I come for, oh Prince
To show you I care, to break the silence
To share with you the precious gifts of song,
To love, to sing, and in turn…belong…”

The demons chimed with laughter dark
As the Prince sat close beside me
He stood very slow, towering over me,
And took me by the arm

“Charming voice, darling,
You sing quite well,
Shall we sing for as long as you say?
Will you not be missed?”

He pointed above me, and stared at me deeply
There was warning written all over him
A threatening, distant eye,
The other full of desire

“I am missed by you, though I stand before you,
This I say, Prince
I shall stay with you 40 days and 40 nights, 
And then I shall leave you, in the breaking dawn of day…”

His grip tightened upon me,
“I have you, child, woman…light…
For 40 Days and 40 nights… 
Before then, let us make history of song
Yes, my dear... let us both belong…”

The demons gasped,
And Death stood still…steadily strumming a pulse of daring life

----Thank you once again, Justin Bordner, for the title to this work. 
This may be confusing if you have not yet read the other parts to the poem.  If you are interested, they are called Light On the Devil’s Chord – Part 1, Part 2 Part 3 as well as The ChallengeThanks for reading friends! ~Laura

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Faces Along the Way

Life is but a winding road
Filled with faces along the way
Coming in and out of your life
Coloring your every day

Yet most spend just a moment
A fleeting glimpse before your eyes
They giveth not and taketh not
And cause you barely a rise

And some stay just a moment
Earning a thought upon your mind
Triggers for countless memories
These are the most common kind

And fewer still stay even longer
And commune with you a while
Leaving behind dearest memoirs
Of sweet tears or a special smile

And rarer still those faces grand
Building mansions in your soul
These are the faces of a lifetime
Whose virtue you do extol

And know that you simply are
A feature filled soiree
A portrait in collage 
Of the faces along the way

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The Poetry of Hope

Every once in a while I lose myself
But I’m glad the dreams are coming back
I feel the thrill filling me
I feel my heartbeat rising
I see redemption rising in the days ahead
I still realise once again that I’ve earned another chance to begin anew
Still glad that it’s early in life
...and I can apply the lessons I’ve learnt before I’m twenty five

Phew! Boy, my heart’s beating fast
I shall no longer look at my past
For the past is just that
...opportunities gone with the wind, never to come back
I look towards the days ahead
I spend today to dream of the future I intend
For I know now tomorrow is bound to come
Today was but a dream ten years back
Had I realised then how soon today would come
I’d already be rich riding on the wings of independence
I pledge never to make that mistake again

Today I shall live like I plan
...and not like my neighbour Mr. Wright
For I know not how much he earns to spend the way he does
Today I shall not live like the society around me
For I don’t know whether they think ahead 
...of the days that are bound to be raining with storms of emergency
I pledge to live as befits me
I plan to live today in a way that enables me to save
For now I know I was right ten years ago
But I hadn’t the courage to follow a route of my own
Now I’m determined ten years to come...
I’ll be riding on the unicorn of delight

I pay no care for what those here and there may air
I wanna be happy today in my moderate ways
Knowing all too well I’m headed where
There, in the future where my heavy dreams will float in the air
I’m no hater so for the rest of the players here
I wish all the goodwill and good wishes my subconscious can air

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Don' Wanna Bee ‘Roun Ewe Noh Moh

Don’ wanna bee roun ewe noh moh.
Don’ wanna see da trajuhdee dats heded,
At yah doh.
Ewe wuz vary ahful tah mi,
God’s chile. Eye didden doyah nuttin.
Yah ‘sposed,  tah bee ah liter rite?
Butt ya playin’ roun  wit da won,
Whooz comin’ bak leyek ah,
Theef en dah nite.

Win yah ain’t treet mi rite,
Yah naglect’d dah powah uv God.
Cuz onlee wit Him ah wuz,
Ovalookin’ wat ewe wuz doin’,
Ta mi fah da harvest ,
Of God’s chirren bein’ edumacated,
Mi yah outrite hated.

Butt dats awrite God-n-eye,
Gon’ win dis feyght.
Ah wheel hav’ victuree cuz ah,
Choze ta spread luv butt ewe,
Choze ta spread mizuhree.

Don’ wanna bee roun ewe noh moh.
Don’ wanna see da trajuhdee dats heded,
At yah doh.
Ewe ramyned mi uv ol’Pharoah,
Hoo woodn’t lett God’s pipahs goh.
Ah didden wanna fase yah awl dose
Otha daze.

Butt God help’d mi leyek God help’d,
Moses speek up tah ol’Pharoah.
God tole Moses tah lett mah pipahs goh.
God telling mi ta tale yah phake  Pharoah
Tah lett mi chirren’s goh.

Ah noh ah hatta bee roun ewe sum moh.
Butt itell bee worfwile, 
Cuz God wantz freedom,
Fah ebbery chile.
Yah hut mi fah alil wile,
Butt we’ll bee at da prahmased lan’,
An out uv yah Egypt.
Cuz fah awl uv uz ta prospa,
Iz God’s plan.

Ansoon we won’ be roun ewe no moh.
Wheel nat laugh leyek yah didaht mi.
Win trajudee nocks aht yah doh.
Wheel helpyah cuz God, 
Wantz uz awl tah bee free.
Frum dah phake phone’ powah,
Uv da enumee.

wrote 6-27-10

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Good- Verses- Evil


What do you do when life throws you a misguided curve?
    You just keep on chugging, never losing nerve.
It’s easy to quit, give up, holler I’ve had enough.
    But just shake it off, get tough, show em you got the stuff.
Pity parties are for losers that will only sire defeat.
    Never stop trying even when better judgement says you’re beat.
If you’re not fully charged with a positive electrode,
    Then it won’t take much of a negative to drain your load.
Keep yourself charged with a positive upbeat,
    Then you’ll know why I say victory can taste so sweet.
No matter who you are there is always somebody that looks up to you.
    So be a role model, set good examples in all things that you do.
Your one fleeting moment of good may set the tone,
    To that someone that was watching, that you may have never known.
Take it from someone who has been on both sides of the fence.
    A positive and good attitude is always your better defense.
Just have faith in knowing that tomorrow the sun will shine.
    Just in believing will give you a much greater peace of mind.


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A Understanding Of The Past

I remember summers past in the south 
and the sultry heat.
Iced tea and back porch confessions.

Making time with that first love.
The swing underneath  that old tree.
The radio playing softley in the background.

Thoose ways have long since died.
Replaced by a breakneck pace.
As were all to willing to forsake a conversation between 
two human beings.
It's all about one night stands and bragging rights.

It's like comparing velvet to burlap.
All harsh no mystery.
Where people would rather surf the internet
than ocean.

The passion of the kiss.
Is but a dinosaur that people 
view as some old silent film.

A blanket underneath the stars
Has been replaced by a encounter in a 
bathroom stall.

Upward we advance  as deeper  we sink within the
As the poet reflects  ink drying 
in he pen.

I recall thoose times so very slow.
To this sudden stand still.
Like a pile up on the interstate.
I no longer live I wait.

But the sunset still haunts me.
Along with the scent of the salt filled air.
that tree's swing does no longer stand.

As in dust and memories it's been taken with 
the wind.

The road echos  of another time.
For all that was free and wild.
Is slowley vanishing.

As we blindly advance.
I'll sit and watch the tide.
And be happy to be left behind.

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Listen, you see that ?
Listen harder, I know you see it now.
Look over there, quick.
Did you hear that ?
Tell me, if you can see the sound I see.
If you can taste what I feel.
Speak without talking, move without walking.
So many things, with not enough stuff.
Hot not cold, on but off.
Death brings life, to those who are open.
Closure is loneliness, knowledge is light.
Fear is confusing and power is sight.
To answer a problem, you didnt even know.
To speak about places, you didnt even go.
Reading is much, if you know what you read is more.

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The poet and the Gavel

People Say poetry is for the broken,
As if nobody or nothing but words on paper can mend their broken pieces, 
As if their soul existence is put into paragraph form, 
each line representing some critical moment in their life.
Let us not acknowledge the fact that poets possess an amazing skill,
a skill where they articulate words, painting a picture as the words roll off the tongue.
A stranger whom can make you relive every beautiful moment,
re experience every sad emotion, and allow you to feel!

Now that I think about it...maybe they're the broken ones..

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Healing Words

My mother, my grandmother before has always held a place in my heart.
My father, and my grandfather before has the same part.
I was young and very active with unwillingness to listen fully to what they had to say.
I had a problem, never could be solved without my parents and grandparents till today.
With patience they all come to my aid when I fall on my face.
With little dishonor I listen to them and what they had to say, I embrace.
Over the years I go to them with no doubt a feeling of no dismay.
Over the years I go to them and they help me solve problems that to me is O.K.
Now I am getting a bit more aware of what had happen to me when I was growing.
Now I remember how the ride was in my beginning: it was a trial of not knowing.
With the guided words of my parents and grandparents I survive through them all.
With it some being a problem that I remember I recall.
My mother and my grandmother always said to be patient and it will be easy to solve.
My father and my grandfather always knew that I would grow and evolve.
I could wonder everyday what if my parents and grandparents was not in my life.
I could just think that would be fatal like a stab with a knife.
With knowledge that they had past on to me of what they had experience.
With their proof of teachings they had past on to me is their self existence.
Over the years I grew with life so full of happiness that was because of my families love.
Over the years it showed me the path that led me to all the above.
Now cherish those words that help me through my troubles in my new family.
Now I listen to my parents healing words of wisdom and except them gladly.

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Where did we go wrong

Shovels,blue overalls and head lamps.
They dug the golds fields to feed our our hungry stomachs,they carried the Dompas to free our future,they took beatings for our emancipation,but did they plant good seeds in our brains?
Did they instill education in our hearts?
We stick gold plates on our teeth to show monetary muscle
We dig our father's pockets to fend for our families and we are labelled gold diggers.

Were the lights at the end of the tunnel chandeliers on the ceiling of the Summit club?
Did our dreams slide downhill like a pole dancer?
Is the corporate leader a way to step on the backs of a kneeling cleaner?

Shining crystals all looked the same,we took the mirror and gave away the diamond,we gave away our herd of cattle but now we are fed a load of wild Bull and a lot of Ass.
We took away the buffalo from our national money,we boasted of millions to bid for the same buffalo and now the same buffalo ends on our plates at dinner time.

We placed Madiba on the Randelas only for the Mandelas to fight for the millions.
27 years fight to freedom,a few years into democracy, but an eternal scar of poverty.
We recalled the smoke pipe that was bringing fire to the cold land and inducted the shower head that only bring storms of conspiracy,strikes and skimpy dancers.

Did we go wrong anywhere or am I just an ignorant youth?

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It was once a good and honest worker calculation area. 
His life was encode the world on your back in the form of numbers and proportions of these.
When he saw the sun, looking for the angle to calculate its axis, 
when he saw another human being quantified his features, 
gestures and inferred about their possible reactions. 
Poor man, he did not see the horizon as a screen display of Monet, 
who did not see the other as an extension of divine knowledge. 
So is the mason, electrician, psychologist, engineer, 
administrator, businessman, politician, ... 
men who are good at what they do, but each in view of the world that surrounds it. 
Because it is simpler to be one ... than having multiple views of the same mind.

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Think Positive

Feel like singing a happy song And if you'll allow me to bend your ear I don't mean literally of course That could be physically quite painful At my advanced age, my mind is still clicking along Had envisioned when I was younger That when I reached this ripe old age Things would start to erode and shut down Not true... how wrong I was, I'm still full of beans Still wake each morning with a smile on my face Thought at one time everybody did But I may be more unique than I imagined Perhaps it's in our genes, it's not a choice Though we can still make a conscious effort I've always had a positive outlook Sure can count my lucky stars If I can at all help others to feel like this Then I've really accomplished something amazing Wrapping it all up into two simple words... THINK POSITIVE! © Jack Ellison 2014

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A Soul Awakened

The warm light calls me
And all the people who cries for thee
I raise my hand in this abyss
Only to make one wish
To float among the others
With all my sisters and brothers
I call out for forgiveness with passion
I take their pain into myself for this occasion
The moment that I see the sky
I will not look back and cry
My body is laying still
People standing by it with a chill
The air gets dense with sadness
I would not think of it less
Some people look up and down
To see the light hit the ground
Some can vision the uplifting feeling they see
One soul that has been and always be
It is special to notice such aberration 
And that might be how souls are awaken

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The Treasures Within

A beggar had been sitting at the side of a road
For over thirty years on a box which was old.
One beautiful day a stranger walked by.
“Spare some change?” – asked the beggar and sighed.
“I have nothing to give you”, - said the stranger to him,-
“What is that you are sitting on?” “Just an old box, I seem.
I’ve been sitting on it for as long as I live”.
“Ever looked what’s inside?” “There is nothing in it”.
“Have a look in to see - there’s something or not”.
So he opened the box and it was filled with gold. 

I was inspired by a parable from Eckhart Tolle’s Book “The Power of Now”.

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Tears from Heaven

Tears from heaven, as angels cry,
Fall in buckets from the sky.
Falling to wash away pain and sorrow,
Awaken hopes for a better tomorrow.

I often get lost within the dark,
It’s the time when pieces fall apart.
Still, the tears carry me away,
Infecting words, the things that I say.

I don’t always seem to get things right,
Some of the answers live in the shadows of night.
I wonder if my mind ever does sleep,
The still water is getting way too deep.

Rainbows appear as light greets the rain,
Nothing or no one is left the same.
I see so much locked inside change,
Within my grasp, yet still out of range.

I think of the end rewarding pots of gold, 
Locked inside the words of stories told.
The reward outweighs  all of the risk,
The wind blows sharply, feeling so brisk.

I reflect upon summer, that is now gone,
The snow shall fly before too long.
I feel this warmth inside the cold air,
Warmth in the words,  that you care.

With today fading, tomorrow’s in sight.
Sunrise returns right after the night.
With it comes the presence of this day,
No one or nothing shall take this away.

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The Battle Lost and Won

As naturally and effortlessly as birds fly
Unannounced and quietly an Idea came by
Faster than the weightless wind it flew
Where it came from no one asked, no one knew

Longing for a cloak in which to be wrapped
It knocked on many doors asking to be dressed
It wished to be given a shape and form for all to see
It wanted an existence, and in this world a chance to be

The farmer was farming, the worker busy working
The judge was judging, the thief in the shadows lurking
The preacher was of the invisible kingdom preaching
The poet alone with his heart and soul for the Idea reaching

It seized him and became the fire in his veins
The beating in his heart, the throbbing in his brain
It became the movement of his arms and legs
He asked for the right words like a beggar for food begs

The Idea through the flesh was about to be born
The invisible by the visible longed to be worn
Like newlyweds neither knew too well the other
They had to unite: each’d be both father and mother

Now the idea took control and led the poet’s pen
Then It was overpowered by the brutish man
Now he’d try to bend It, to suit his words, to shape It 
Then It bent him so that into each other they’d fit

He wished to be a channel for the Idea he sensed
It had a burning desire, a purpose to be expressed
When possessing parts of both the work was done 
An idea of the Idea was born - a battle both lost and won

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In memory of Bob

In memory of Bob
A true story.

It was in spring of two thousand when I first saw Bob. I’d just started working at Perth Dental hospital, and in fact it was my first day there. I walked up to the front door of this building, but it wasn’t yet opened. So I turned around and went to sit in the bus shelter which was just outside the building. As I went to sit down I noted a dark skinned gentleman sitting there with a happy, benign look on his face. He was about five feet eight give or take a little, and he was rather a thickset man who looked like he’d done his fair share of hard work in his sixty years or more.

     There was something about this Gentleman that I could not quite put my finger on. He had a certain charisma about him; not the phony kind of charisma that one seen in the car salesman or the philanderer who messes with women’s heads, no, Bob had a kind of friendly smile for everyone that he met, and he seemed to draw people into him with his love, and gigantic heart. I knew as soon as I met him that Bob was most definitely for me.

      As Bob looked at me and smiled, the whole world seemed to open up. He said “Ow ya  going mate” in a loud ebullient manner, then we started to chat. Bob was like myself, a thinker, and straight away we started philosophizing about this, that, and the other, and it was like we had known each other forever. Then all of a sudden I found Bob talking about death, and the difference in the way the Maori people faced death, compared to the rather the silly way us white folk look at the subject with great fear in our hearts. Now this had always interested me, and  somehow it just seemed natural to talk to this Maori gentlemen on this subject, and we spoke about it till the doors opened and it was time to work.

      I don’t think anything happens just by chance, and I definitely have this feeling that Bob and I were meant to meet, and I really think this was a major destiny thing. I have found during the course of my life,  that as I am aging, I can feel something pushing me into a certain direction, and I always felt that Bob was part of all this; and I had much to learn from him. Although I have never believed in organized religion, and never followed one I have always felt deeply spiritual, and I have met many people who I learned from, and Bob was most definitely one of them with all his great wisdom and patience. As I came to know Bob, we had many dialogues together, on many subjects. Bob used to love music and could always have time to plonk away on his guitar. He used to come round to my place and we would play songs together, though both he and I were no Eric Clapton’s, I would bang around on my guitar and play the harp, while we would both take out turns at singing. We’d have a smoke or a beer or two, and we’d play songs all day long,  ahhh, I remember those days well, the memories are so strong.

     Bob was one hell of a man, I could tell that he had been a wild one in his youth,
But when I knew him in his sixties he was an icon of wisdom and virtue; he had a kind word for everyone, and gave all his time to anybody who needed him, always.
He used to hear me waffling on like an idiot, trying to make him like me [as I always did] but never once did he tell me how foolish I was, he would just smile knowingly at me. He used to stand there at the window for hours, just drinking in the trees, or the clouds in the sky, and yet he was so aware, I used to try to sneak up on him; it couldn’t be done. His awareness was incredible.

     Then one day Bob fell ill with terminal cancer, and he knew that he had very little time left on this Earth. He lay there sick for days in intolerable pain,  but you never heard one complaint from him, even when he only had days to live, he was still worrying about the welfare of others. When the day finally come for Bob to leave his shell; he was lying there in deep sleep, when all of a sudden he woke up, with a smile on his face. His children asked him ‘Dad, do you want some pain killers” Bob laughed, compassion written all over his face, and he said to them ‘Not one of you has a clue, have you’ and he died with a big smile on his face.

   His daughter got in touch with me, and told me about his death, and also told me that his last wish was to have me watch his soul leave his body. I felt very honored about this and went and sat with his body [as Maoris do]. I got the most peaceful feeling come to me [which I presume was his spirit leaving his body] as I watched his silent body, a Mari war stick and a beautiful rose lay across his chest. I still see it, and I feel blessed by it. He was my Maori warrior, and I adored the man.

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                     A TRAGEDY OF PRIDE ( hubris)

In the Arctic nights the jazz born North Lights sound
with a music of their own. Fair winds ferry fragile birds--
take to the skies in search of sympathetic warmth profound

while white breathless silence magnifies each sound as it is heard
and few venture forth, like bears they dash to find a haven
where they can hide until reluctantly the sun has stirred--

But, there is one jay bird who is not one of nature’s craven
creatures-- Waiting for a spring call from his mate, he hops into the hungry snow
to dance a dangerous dance in icy morning with the ravens.

There is a God flung magic that dashes high above the haughty human know
among the ancient secret kingdoms of the mystery sky--
And there it is that Wisdom’s Word is spread by wing and wayward winds that blow

their way in worldwide splendor and intricate magnificence that defies
the mind of man.  It is a truth that dalliance in vanity is inborn---
Man or bird, into the nature of some spirits-- it low lies

and becomes incited when grand fame or imagined glory has been shorn
by another .  And , so-- in Persia when the Prince of Peacocks heard
murmurs of the razzing ravens and the sassy sparrows high sky airborne

a proclamation that the World knew now there lived a peerless bird--
plucky-proud, surpassing the peacock -- Jay magnificent with a spirit daunting, a weight
of valiant blue in shades escaped of double rainbows, color-blurred

who bedazzled all nature’s eyes and winds of ear, that judiciously beheld each trait.
The peacock, no longer Highest Prince of Birds, screamed a terrible and cosmic sound
of jealousy.   Ignoring all the glory that still made him great--
the vain and foolish peacock fell-- stunned and breathless to the ground.

Victoria Anderson-Throop  2012 ©
Written in Juja, Kenya
Bird is Stellar Jay, common in Valdez, Alaska

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Scarlet Portmanteau

Duke Luke by his bateau
Arrived at his chateau,
Had he travelled through large eau!

His mysterious rendez-vous 
with Henry Thoreau
Yielded him a scarlet portmanteau.

Entering his bureau,
he took off his manteau
and opened the portmanteau:

The Snow Man was inside
And though not well could he sing,
Sang he a song of himself:

Stopping by woods on a snowy evening
He met Annabel Lee on a large shelf,
Frightened he was by the raven
And took the road not taken:

Crossed he the mending wall
And hearing the anecdote of the jar
To noble savage Billy Budd an honest fare he paid

Large and far
Travelled he
From spring to fall

Self-reliance: the idea he hath
The American Scholar guided his path;

He slept a long time
In a clean well-lighted place;

One winter he woke up
In a station of the metro:
He fastened his tender buttons
and found a red wheelbarrow;
'No ideas but in things' -
A lovely image this brings!

To his disappointment and sorrow,
He never saw the snows of Kilimanjaro.

Duke Luke in disbelief
Wiped his eyes
And pinched his ears;

The Snow Man disappeared.

Duke Luke
Took a look 
At his portmanteau
In hopes of seeing something

He found


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My opinions on contest, in prose

My opinions on contests, in prose

I have to write this narrative, because  I need to address this question of contests. I have had comments about this poem that I wrote, called ‘contests’ that I have need to answer. One person tells me that contests are fun and it doesn’t matter about winning; I am sure if they were being honest most who enter would not agree with this. I myself think that the people on this site are very competitive and love to win even when they know that their poem did not deserve to win.

   I have seen so many win these contests even though their styles are quite off, and others have written in perfect style and have not got a mention. I see so much favouritism on this site, and many have complained about this, while most will not speak their minds on the subject. It is like the best poems list, they call it the best poems list, but this is not really true. It should be called the most popular poems list.

   I am also told that this is a way of learning new styles. Now I am on a private site that teaches styles with no winners or losers. I have learned nearly ninety styles, and never had to enter a contest at all. I prefer not to use most of them because they are clumsy though, and in my eye are not poetry at all. 

  I have seen so much rubbish on this site which has been called poetry and are laughable. Since when has prose been called poetry? This is why I no longer enter contests. I take great pride in my writing and hate to see it insulted. These days I just post, and anyone who answers my posts I comment on theirs. It is not important any more that I get comments. These are only the opinions of others. In the two years I have been on this site I have seen it go down hill as it has lost many members….peter

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Fig Meant at Ion's

I wander into this dark, misTearYous room
—and there he was...and wow! What a Fig!

He with the long, lustRuse hair 
sitting at a corner table, nursing a cup of hot cocoa. 
Dang. He has better hair than I do!

“I’m  a  gin at  Ion’s,” were his first words spoken.
“I’m  a  gin at  Ion’s.” And then sighlens.

I was trying to look through his lens, and figure out his sighs
when he utters, “I can see you are number—“

“Huh? I am number what? I don’t see any lines here..."

“Ah, yes you are, as I was... NumBer as in more than numb.”


He definitely got me, he with the misTearYous eyes
so I sit down and ask him what he means
(but I refused to ask how he saw through my numbity)

“What do you mean that you are a gin? And where is Ion’s?”

“Exactly just that. I’m a gin at Ion’s. A di*k t’Eve.”

He tells me that Ion’s is nowhere, everywhere and knowhere,
of how anyone who takes even a sip of that gin can hold on to it— 
too much, so much so, as to lose that grip on ReAhhlity...

I ask him what he does there. 
Seemingly one word, two meanings— "aMuse," says he... 

He reveals he is also part-tickles, part abs-tackles
then he also exhails at wind ‘o pains, 
to fog or clear up views and relayshunships
But oh! How at one point he felt tieurd, of how he had so many callUses—
numb, tired of how it reCurse, of always being called upon, of being used


Been used So many times, he didn’t know who he was anymore...
a Duke at Ion’s, a con’s front at Ion’s,
an ex pecked at Ion’s, a lucid at Ion’s, a rebel at Ion’s...
oddly enough, even if he has been ‘d sign at Ion’s, 
he still felt blahtantly invisible,
even if he wore only a V-bra at Ion’s! 
He chalks everything up to exPeerience, and has learned from it.
And that's why he's also known as a sensei at Ion’s (his personal favorite)

He says even if he can go beyond infinity, he—
he stops (ah gain!) and yes, there it sneaked in... Sighlens.

Telling me through the void, through his sighs, through his lens
To close my eyes, and figYour out myself. And then I do...

ReAhhlieZing how much I could relate,
how I have been in DenyAll of my possiBElities. 
It is all a matter of perSpeck'tEve, of looking at each tiny speck of life,
of creating something from each of it, entire universes even—boundless

How odd that I myself felt like I'm a gin at Ion's...
Addictive, yes so I best be careful with where I take it.
I oh!pen my eyes and the fig meant to show me ReAhhlity had gone...

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Love?  But he always hurt you.  

Can’t leave the punk?  But he is abusive.  

In too deep?  Just leave him! 

Alone?  Isn’t that the best way to be?  

Need someone to lean on?  But the world is crazy.  

Want to share your thoughts?  Just pray to the Lord!  

Joe you wrong.  The color woman was suppressed by the white man for too long.  And now you want to fight.  I dare you to strike me like that.  

Why do I trust?  Any man today is a wrongdoer!

Intimacy?  But you should want to be free.  

Need to be loved? But you just end a relationship with a no good thug.  

Want comfort?  Why not find you a support group!

Depressed?  Isn’t by yourself a way to think.  

Need someone to talk to?  But people are not true.  

Desire a best friend?  I am always here!  

Steven isn’t good for moral support.  He will seek you for sex and enjoyment.  You say you are depressed and stressed from to many bad relationships.  

Why do you want to trust without healing?  

Not yourself?  But that’s because of what you been through.  

Can’t find sense?  But that’s within reason of the pain you feel, Honey Boo.  

Colors?  You have suffered now it is time to heal.  

Want to go out?  That’s it!  Learn to help yourself.  The world can be deep.  In depth you become to the life you live.  No time to hide what you feel.  Maybe a day to cry and then go out and chill!  

Want a drink?  Not so fast.  

Want to drown your sorrows as usual?  No time for addiction or developing bad habits.  Trust your instincts and know things will get better!  It is a sad thing to see a friend become a substance abuser.  You know what is wrong but can’t do nothing at all but tell her to not drink to solve any issue.  If you find that they are strong, you know they have listened.  

Want to scream?  

Why not do that to let out the steam?  This will help you to cope and not make a mistake to trust before you know him.  

Want to smile?  Just smile!  You also seem to desire affection.  You say this would be just a simple friend that cannot go against you.  But you don’t state whether that is me.  I am best kept as it seems.  Let’s sing and sing.  Let’s enjoy the life we live.  

Must you trust your heart with somebody?  You don’t.  Just wait until the time has come.  You can be by yourself for a while.  If you need a smile, humor your mind.  Never letting anyone one in and then before you know it you have met the prefect man. 

Why trust when you can be free?  

Why need anybody?  Love is true to those who define true meaning.  

Why trust when he is misleading?

User Name: Verlena
Psuedonym: Oblivion Dark Sunshine
Motif: Betrayal
Entry Date: February 26, 2014

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The Prodigal Son

When a father of five 
came home faced 
with one in five children of convalescence 
which he will pay more attention?

So organizations should be 
when in a department or group, 
one member is left out 
of the production process. 
Discard the individual or rescue?

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Commie Lovers

Network news commentators
are commie lovers one and all.
A daily pathetic display of stupidity.

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12 Fruits of the Holy Spirit Prayer

Lord God, send us Your Divine and Moral Virtues to assist people

Faith, to deeply understand and produce evidence to the unseen

Impart Hope to be determined and persevere successfully

For persons to consider a little generosity to Charity

To present Prudence by being careful

For untruthfulness to bring into Justice

Give fortitude for lawmakers and government officials to be strong

Bring in Temperance to exercise Patience and Tolerance

We ask these in the name of Father Christ Jesus to send out the Virtues of the Holy Spirit


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The Median Death of the Red Delicious

“God bless us all when the door is shut behind us, 
only then will we breathe our first breath,
and awake 
from the long dream…”

Forging past the indisputable summit onto the 
shelf of the perfect medium (ah, ‘tis noble here!)
he sits, contemplating his balance. He does not sweat. 

The winds breath breaks upon his predestined neck, 
bestowing the gift of lily white scent upon a lapel that’s 
stiff, yet pliable – just stiff enough. A 72 degree sun 

shines its neutrality, (fueling his desire for nothing at all, 
just the concept of sun giving heat, like a heartbeat, 
unnoticed in its certainty) upon his stagnant face. 
He is wearing his favorite pants (soft, worn jeans with 

a little give, but not enough so that he forgets to hold 
in his stomach), and from the ample pocket, he takes 
an apple. It is a Red Delicious. Not quite living up to its 
name, but unassuming and secure in its redness – he eats. 

It’s not the best apple he’s ever had, but its good enough. 
The vultures, native to this coveted desert waste circle, 
vying for the core of his Non-Delicious, yet edible fruit. 
And as he Bites into the last white taste of just fine, a glint 

of sunlight flashes briefly – like infinity within dreams, 
off of the vultures black eyes. And all at once he knows – 
everything is. The death birds orbit the terracotta desert 
peek (red and inviting in its dry and unforgiving reality), 

the bird turns away so fast after catching his eye, 
he forgets that he’d ever seen its pulsing recognition. 
The forgettable sunset mollifies him - sedates him,
pacifying his every forgettable non-movement.

It is then, when the last dripping light of day descends 
behind the obvious rock mount; the definite edge 
of darkness falls. Shadows creep slowly and quickly
across the terrestrial rock spine, (engulfing its redness

in its totality) leaving just the remnants of burgundy
skin between yellowing teeth, and a deafening black desert. 
As the sound of raucous wings and ripping jeans dominates
the guttural desert - the vultures take their coveted prize.

*Reposted for Deborah's Something Wicked This Way Comes, Wickedness Contest. :)

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How my life was transformed

I’m going to tell a story now of a man who having served his time in a war torn country, but due to a very sensitive nature suffered from what they like to call ‘Post traumatic stress disorder’, he was like this for many, many years, with all the symptoms of anger, paranoid, fear and anxiety, and was impossible to live with. He had studied everything from self help gurus, to spiritual teachers to conventional counselling {that man was I} but nothing helped, I just got worse and worse, which ended up in me leaving home, and in the process throwing away every thing I had ever built up, that was half way decent. After a year I went back home, my tail between my legs, to try over. But no, I was still impossible to live with, and there was never any real peace with me around. I had tried every kind of meditation, self hypnosis, positive thinking, and nothing worked. The writing did help me quite a bit, but it was never enough.

Then one day I discovered on the net an American gentleman, named John Sherman. I went on his site, at no cost whatsoever And I heard what he said, when he told me one simple thing to do. He told me to go behind my thoughts and just look at me
The me that is there behind all the thoughts and emotions when everything is gone; The me one speaks about when he or she points to themselves and says ‘me‘. Now this seemed so simplistic to me, and I kind of scoffed at it, but I tried it anyway, because I was rather desperate to bring about some changes, and I had tried everything else. it was so easy for me, and I started to do it whenever it came to me to do so. This was four years ago now, and I have practiced what he said religiously.

Now, four years later I am a different being, the anger is gone, the misery is non existent, My fear of death is all but gone, and I feel like life is one big wonderful dance. If anyone has troubles of this kind and cannot lead a peaceful life… go to 
‘’ And let John and his wife Carla help you, there are no conditions no religion and definitely no payments to be made. Just felt I had to tell someone about the Sherman’s, because of what happened to me     Peter.

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A Rocking Chair's Life

Said goodbye so many times,

To its occupants that once were babies.

New cradle to so many grand parents,

Gently rocked to sleep by memories.

Grandpa once told me he felt a kinship,

To this chair that creaked once in a while.

His limbs and its were very much the same;

Only difference was it would always have new customers.

As a little boy it was my rocking horse,

I climbed its high back like spiderman.

Couldn't tip it over no matter how hard I tried;

Just swung on a wooden toy that Grandpa hated to love.

My father sat there in that very same chair,

Swaying away in a chariot he had surely earned.

I sat next to him then and we reminisced,

Knowing that soon I would take his place.

Copyright © 2014 Robert William Gruhn - All Rights Reserved

"A poem to me is the essence of any thought,
Being built from its foundation into tower scraping sky.
It can fly like no other bird to places never seen,
Even spaceships can only dream of taking its place."

© 2014 Robert William Gruhn

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Lovers Not Fighters

My reputation is that of a jester But I DO have a serious side Some Soupers find it out of character And worry that I'm not my old self Not true... this is still me Commenting on what seems to be A much more dangerous world Correct me if I'm wrong Perhaps it's because of my advanced age Kinda hoped we would have found peace by now Not a chance, we humans will probably never get it right It's written into our DNA We'd like to think we're lovers, not fighter Unfortunately, it's never been true and never will be It's not the most attractive side of the human condition We think we're above our natural combative instincts If per chance peace on earth is ever to be achieved I'll be long gone but I'll be watching And will return for a day or two To revel in a world when peace finally reigns I'm a lover, not a fighter! © Jack Ellison 2104

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From anxiety to Joy

From anxiety to joy

Hi to all my friends
   I decided to write this story of me down, because I see so many unhappy people on this site. They make this very clear to me when I read some of their beautiful poems. I have tried telling it in verse, but now I feel it is time to write it down in prose

    When I was a child I was not happy because I had very strict parents who robbed me of all my freedom. I was a very freedom loving boy and I felt so totally restricted in a family that never could and never would understand me. There was a lot of psychological cruelty handed out to me by my Father and a hell of lot of bullying, I was subjected to by the other kids, I came from a very rough part of London called Peckham, and I was an extremely sensitive young lad.

    When I grew up I married a beautiful Australian girl named Vera who is still my beloved wife after fifty years. We immigrated to Australia, and after about three months, I decided to join the army, and I volunteered to go to Vietnam, so I could pay back the kindness that the Australians had Showed me by receiving me to their beautiful country.

     I served in Vietnam for about nine and a half months, then they decided to ship me back to Australia because of injuries and illness. when I came back my troubles all started and I developed PTSD, even though I had not really been in much danger during my days of war. I was filled with a terrible anxiety, and  was absolutely terrified of both life and death. I had these periods of deep, deep dread that completely ruled my life. I was angry most of the time, and I detested everybody I ever met with a vengeance so hard to understand

     This got worse and worse as the year proceeded, and I tried everything to control it, from counselling to reading every kind of self help books, and I read every religion, and all the stuff by so many different Spiritual teachers until I had a bookcase brim filled with all the books I had read. I tried every kind of meditation, plus yoga, Tai chi, and many other things. However, nothing worked. They helped a bit but not enough to stop the ugly terror I felt.

    Then one day I came across a man named John Sherman on the net, who has helped so many people, and thousands of people now practice what he advocates with much success.

     John told me that all I had to do was close my eyes and look at the me ness of me, it was as simple as that. At first I laughed at him with this simplistic approach to gaining back ones sanity. But I was desperate; I had walked out on my wife for a year and given everything I had away. My anger was getting worse and worse, and when I finally came back to my family, I really wasn’t worth being with. My wife tolerated me because she loved me so totally, but I could tell that I was leading her into Pyschological, of physical illness.

    So I gave John’s method a try, I meditated every day using my me ness as a meditation point. I don’t mean my thoughts or sensations, emotions or such. I mean the ‘me’ the part of me that actually runs the show. The ‘me’ that always seems hidden but is always there in the background. I noticed some changes in me very quickly, but then the progress came slower, but very steady.  Now I have been doing this for nearly five years and the difference in me is phenomenal. I am so happy now, that I could almost scream with joy. I have no more anxiety any more, and the dread that once debilitated is totally gone.

     My neurotic fear of death has faded, and although I don’t want to die, when it comes I will be totally ready for it. My life is so beautiful these days and everything seems so beautiful, and crystal clear. These days I walk on feather feet, and I am so grateful to John and his wife Carla for what they gave to me. I really want to share this with anyone who cares to listen. You would not believe how beautiful my life is these days.  Thank you for reading, all you who reached the end of this story. I hope it helps you as it most certainly helped me….Peter.

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Take a Penny, Leave a Penny

You've seen them.  Those little trays on the store counter with pennies in them and often a sign saying “Take a penny, leave a penny”.  On occasion, I have dropped pennies in them, but until just recently, I never had occasion to need one.  Falling two cents short of my purchase price, I reached for another dollar, when the clerk said “I've got it” and added the two cents from the tray.  

Why bring that up you may ask.  Well, because I was thinking, which always gets me in trouble, how much those pennies are like reading poetry.  Most people do not avail themselves of poems that are lying there for the taking, waiting for someone to want them.  More people will probably leave poems then ever pick them up.  But when they want one, it is nice to know there is one they can have.

People say pennies aren't worth much, but I beg to differ.  Their value varies by how much you need or want it.  Poems are like that.  Their value is generally greatest to the person that offers it.  It is given for the soul purpose of pleasing someone else.  However, those that use them place their own value upon them. Some they are very thankful to get, while others, well, not so much.  

The bottom line, to me at least, is a penny is always a penny and a poem is always a poem. It is what we do with it that makes the difference.  I know that much that I write does not necessarily speak to the reader.  But to me, it's value does not decrease.  By the same token, I read some things and say “ok”  and move on, while others I keep.  It doesn't make any difference to me.  The author thinks it's great, and so do some readers.  That's as good as it gets.  If you don't like it, like the penny, leave it there.  But if it fills a need, pick it up and use it.

That's my two cents worth.

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Little Girls Cry

A little girl cry's and starts to hate,
her father dead, injured by an Isreali tank,
She grows up and teaches her famliy, how to hate,
A little girls cry's, and starts to hate,
her father dead, killed by a Palestinian suicide bomber,
she grow's up and teaches her family, how to hate,
A little girl cry's and starts to hate,
her father died, in the distruction, of the twin towers,
she grows up and teaches her family, how to hate,
Children become men and women,
ideas filter into the Church, 
ideas filter into the Mosque,
ideas filter into Government, 
Men take action justified by revenge,
You killed my father, you killed my son,
you are evil, I have a right,
a little girl cry's and starts to hate,
her father dead, killed by an American bomb,
A little girl cry's and starts to hate,
her father dead, killed by a bullet,
a little girl cry's and starts to hate,
her father dead, fighting in the war,
a little girl, came up to the pope and asked,
why does God, allow people to hurt children,
God does not, allow, people to hurt children,
people will suffer for their sins,
but, he does give people, the freedom to make 
he does give people, the right to make mistakes,
todays world, is not doing well,
the decisions we make, 
are not working,
we need to make, 
better decisions, decisions that stop making
little girls cry,
Around and around we go,
dancing in the shadows, flame of death,
they say that money is the route of all evil,
but at times, the lack of it, is just as bad,
a little girl sold for the money,
needed, for a family to survive,
money is not a God, 
but it buys the milk,
to feed a baby
creating jobs, feeds the people,
creating war, increases poverty,
the death of father's,
makes little girls cry.
one day,
perhaps we'll learn,
to make company's and jobs,
to build love not war,
to make smiles, 
not tears.

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BIG data

So, I'm told I have 100 billion neurons
(by someone ignorant of youth's indiscretions)
each with about a thousand synapses,
to connect its own specific grandeur or fear
to a grand of other neurons and their neuroses

and all of these cadre's and feeling tentacles
are always moving - reaching - searching,
for input and an interested listener
for minute sparks of insights they may have,
maybe a few a second, and over the course of time
they begin to add up - these datum of days

Significant amounts of minutia and marvels 
in my minute-to-day-to-decade-to-lifetime
collection of me, in my own Icloud of inputs
what more could a sentient mind want but
a spoonful of sugar, and some free radicals
to really open up the ol' data pipes

BIG data, is what life's all about 
these days, of statistical medians and means, 
trying always to crunch our cramponed boots
to the top of the standard deviation curve
and look out at all the rest of 
experience below us, our own vista of life

Racks of digitals softly hum to us in our society
and like us, this evolution (perhaps) of life
abhors to throw anything back to the world
without gleaning profit or meaning from it,
no digital potato peels or binary bones tossed
without a specific mission statement satisfied

So, it's not so different today, in "modern" times
as it was back then, when chain-mailed or toga'd 
or animal skinned, or just buck-naked, we took 
in everything that we could as individuals, 
and stored its meaning, its grief, its joy,
part of our memories stock-in-trade for 
the core analytical questions of "what?" and "why?"

© Goode Guy 2012-11-16

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Coffee Shop v2

You're sitting alone at the bar of the coffee shop and you've got the usual.
black decaf latte, today's newspaper, and that pen that smears blue ink.
It’s the same every night, that's why you come back. Monotony is relief.
The only move you've made in what seems like hours was to refill your drink.

Coffee Shop:

You stare at the latte like you’re about to open a gift.
Lifting the cup high, your lips sip the heavy cream.
Tired eyes watch the frosted window and the drift
that carries the uninvited snow effortlessly past you.

The room behind you is burning loud with conversation;
The same arguments, theories, solutions
It's a sickness stuck in the same old rotation.
Like hopeless addicts, they fiend for absolution

There’s talk of Plato’s cave that shrouds enlightenment.
Others discuss Gandhi’s hidden path to the same effect.
They repeat wise men’s words in circles they invent,
leaving what’s more than a hint of ignorance to detect

The sun sets and you're blinded by a glare as you look to the skyline,
the light glows as it sits atop the trees; you look down with a sigh.
Through the window you catch the eyes of a battered man, the look of isolation and despair intertwined.
The man’s face, streaming with tears, tells a story of one too many goodbyes.

What difference does this man make, which he is or what he needs?
You’ve seen it all before; a different movie, the same old theme.
Plus, the tilt of his head and pain in his eyes speak for him of his own misdeeds
Your stare stays locked as you say out loud, “things are always what they seem.”

You have a heavy feeling bring a question that stays planted in your mind
You wonder now if you walk the very path that hollowed this man's eyes.
The thought turns into voices, the words they say are all entwined.
Getting louder now, the more you try to block them out, the more they intensify.

-Jackson Kilgrow

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My Devil

      My Devil
My Devil’s stronger,
He feeds on my tears and
Lives in my fears.
My Devil’s hideous,
 He pulls me into darkness and
Keeps himself harmless.
My Devil’s fierce,
The result of procrastination
Who surrounds with frustrations.
My Devil’s dirty,
He kills and bathes with blood
For all he brings is dark evil flood.
But my devil doesn’t know
What it is like after he’s gone
For I have a shoulder to lean on.
But my devil doesn’t feel
That who it is, 
The one to steal his day-dreamed ease.
But my devil doesn’t fear,
Because he doesn’t believe
That there’s something that’ll get me heaved.
But my devil will never regret,
For what he has done
Until the day he’ll be gone.
And the day will someday come,
When my lord will punish the ungrateful
And the day will someday come,
When my devil will be badly broken.
And the day will someday come
When my lord will get him spoken.
And the day will someday come,
When my devil will be banished and vanished from my world.
And the day when that will happen,
My life will be no less than gold.
And it’ll no longer will be devil who’ll keep me behold… 

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Just a Thought

Not too long ago
Cigarettes permeated our culture
Tobacco companies were powerful
Science discovered a link between
Cigarettes and cancer
Cancer was deemed unhealthy

You no longer see media ads for cigarettes
You rarely see smoking in movies

It seems that someone somewhere noticed

Violence permeates our culture
Even down to a recent ad for electronics 
Involving an adult interviewing preschoolers
“Which is better, one laser beam or two?”
The (satisfying; amusing?) response
Was “Two.  Laser beams from both eyes
Can make big explosions!  Boom!  Boom!”

Someone noticed that Bullying can lead to 
Suicide, which is deemed unhealthy
And people are working to stop it

Gee, what about guns?  Assault rifles; hand guns
Which have no sporting or food hunting purpose
After the latest grade school massacre
Have we finally decided that guns may be unhealthy?

The first rule of Health Care is, “First, do no harm.”
Sounds like a good rule for Humanity

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(Obama: 'Trayvon Martin Could Have Been Me' ABC News , July 19, 2013.    The President suggests that we judge people not on the color of their skin; but on the content of their character.)

We all wear clothes of different colors
to protect our skin from the elements.
We all wear skin of different colors
to protect our innards from the elements and our clothes.

Our color choices reflect our ancestry, 
our moods; or life stances.
We all are the same inside:  
We have muscles, and blood and bones   
which serve the same purposes.

And we are all different inside:
our minds, our experiences; our souls
which record our lives and help us survive

Hopefully we can use them to find common ground.

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Why Church is called Catholic

Church is a she Bride of Father Christ Church is Catholic Church is people Catholic related to the whole Greek kat’holon Father Christ called Profess whole faith Preserve all Sacraments To administer To proclaim Good News Sent her to all nations (YOUCAT) 4092013

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Po-Mo Remix

That's not MY elephant!
A spiteful conceited elephant that ran away from the circus
MY elephant provides copies of the Bill Of Rights to all 2nd graders in Macon County
Considers fund-raising possibilities of selling elephant ears at Zippy Zoo Days
The kids will bring their white elephants and we will do a Spaghetti Feed
At RATS youth ministry--Can a mouse lift an elephant?
If you want to move a heavy load you have to use force
Where would you push?
For this lesson students used a triangular piece of wood
One side labeled Rights the other Responsibilities
Drop a marble in the balance (They used a 10lb. sack of potatoes)
Its all educational
But Barbar--You wouldn't catch THAT elephant playing jazz on his trunk
Not that elephant jazz in Austin  Jazz de Chang (elephant in Thai)
Playing with pink noise and changing the recipe  spaghetti
Too hot for a drumstep (bootleg) from the Elephant House
While Ella singing When I See Elephants Fly gazes over Matisse
The Nightmare of the White Elephant from the jazz series
Hanging over the elephant jazz bar  nu dark swing dubbles
Ella and Wave for singers a Nightmare autographed Artie Shaw
And the poet on each finger has  the following written
Somebody     Wanted    But    So   Then    says  Clustering thats the way
To do it  says  Glue the stick to the hand--Fulcrum
And then gives all the brats rides on an elephant named Bubbles!

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The Human Being : Object of lust

Tear away her skin, her bones,
Watch her curves move through...her tones
explore her body curiouser... and curiouser....
Sandwich her, squeeze her till her blood flows...
Let your sperms kill her, drown her in her woes.

Afterwards tell her how unattractive she is, how you hate her, loathe her, the mother of
your kids.
challenge her, walk away, leave her to lick her wounds.
Tell yourself its okay, this is what she chose!

Lie to her, abandon her and consume her soul,
Tell yourself its okay one day she will feel whole!

Trample her crush her... tell her how she is all wrong.
Tell yourself its okay she wont last for long.

Push her away till she falls over the edge...
But she will always come back.... for its your daughter she bred!

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Four Stages of Knowledge

Children begin to read and write
learn to communicate with others
wonders and worlds revealed. 

Adolescents hone those skills 
insatiable hunger grows within
inhibited imagination relaxed. 

Young adults open to thought
create new-found concepts to marvel
limitless knowledge spread before.

Aged and wise now understood
in a life magnificent and full 
our learning never ends.

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Other Social Circumstances

Other Social

I'm not sure I
if understanding is
at all possible.
The diagnosis is
cheap and quick
but not necessarily
Nonetheless I try,
to define the social

Ducking in from the
to keep warm and dry
while an acute sun
shower washed the
I was briefly
An attractive girl
with falsely colored
and unusually red

I asked her for a
A fruit flavored
stained the color of
I could see clearly
through the fog
that something was
or at least it
should be.

"I could just cry,"
she said.
But I'm not sure I
could understand.
She was unknown to
a momentary
So I sat quietly
drinking my beer
along with the other

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The Poop of Life

THE POOP OF LIFE The poop word is a replacement For the other four letter word You know the one that means poop The one you have most likely heard There is a lot of poop in our life That is really like our body poop Both are really a necessity for living Let me give you the comparison scoop The type of food taken in your body Or what is fed into your life for you Will certainly determine precisely What type of poop you’re getting in to If you let the poop get all built up You tend to want to push and strain In hopes to hurry and force it out That can only cause cramps and pain Slow down and take a deep breath It really is always best to just relax The more you try to lighten up yourself The easier it will be for the poop to pass It’s time to worry if you have no poop Or if you just can’t get that poop out Keep it fresh and make room for more It feels great when it is all cleaned out A stall full of poop has the best worker As Proverbs 14:4 suggestively does say So a good worker does poop a lot Please don’t let it pile up for days No one wants to step in your poop Or even wants to see it for that matter We need to clean up our own poop Every little particle or a tiny splatter It is important to remember To always wipe twice It’s like double checking And it’s really the best advice If the same old poop is left Just every where lying around It only attracts the flies and scum Those pests from every part of town At times there may be a lot Of just stinky hot air Then sometimes you get The real poop coming there There are many different types Of shapes, sizes and textures With the daily poop we’re given The variety of life is measured I could probably go on and on Even you may think of more, I know So I’ll leave you with this one last note Try not to get caught in deep poop though Florence McMillian (Flo)

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What I owe

It is my belief that the amount of debt that I have incurred during my long journey thru this life can never be fully repaid by a mortal man such as me. How much can it be?

One debt that I owe that I can never adequately repay is the love and understanding of my cherished wife who has shared her life with me. 

What amount can be assessed, matter not what the endeavor, matter not the task, this wife of mine is always there to assist, never complaining while shouldering more than her share of the load?

How do I know an amount to be levied or know what I owe for the four beautiful children that she bore and shepherd through their early life and seen them on their way? 

I have nothing to pay to cover the debt of seeing these same children that I am proud to call my own, become strong productive members of our society now with children of their own.

What amount is now owing for the pleasure that I see as I watch how well these grandchildren have made a start on their own families, lives and careers as they move toward future years?

What amount do I owe for the gift of this life that has been given to me by the generations that have gone before, that allowed me to be born into this land of the free?

What is my share of the debt owing to the young men and women that serve in our military and fight and die for us each day as others have done before, yet thankfully I personally have never had to experience the horrors of a war?

What is the value of my place upon a land of plenty where in this life I have never known real hunger or lacked for medical care in my time of need or longed for just a spark of hope?

What do I owe for the sights that I see as I gaze at the mountains, rivers and the sea that spread out before us all as we travel across this land?

I know that these debts cannot be paid in mere monetary terms but only by showing my deep appreciation and a heartfelt “thank you” while explaining to all how much they all have meant to me?

Conveyance of this message hopefully may help to render full payment and hopefully settle the score. I can only hope that will be the case.

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Silence can be deafening 
or scream so loud it hurts your ears.
Silence can bring peace and quiet
a space in time to slow down
and change gears. 
Silence can be torture 
filling one with fear. 
Silence can be loves waiting game
causing pain and tears.
Silence can say so many things 
it can even confirm your worst fears.
Silence can do many things,
except it can't see the tears it can't hear.

Kash was my muse for this poem with his Haiku My Voice.

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Alpha And Omega

                                       Alpha And Omega

We imagine life as a straight line: at the start we are born as a baby,

Then at the end of the line we are old and die. But what if this was

Not the case: as the Universe is eternal, maybe we are also eternal.

Let's look at this more closely. Just suppose life was not a straight line,

But instead it were actually the figure eight, were life is continuous:

We are born, we pass on, but not to our end, but to our beginning.

Life and death are a loop, and the point, where time is checked and 

Then repeated over and over again, may explain why we have

Déjà vu, or a point we seem to remember, and each rotation through  

This loop we tend to recall something we did in a previous loop of

Time. This may happen because somehow we have made a slight

Alteration in the original loop we encountered. We may have even

Died before we where born or the other way round - either way the

Loop would be unbroken. The Earth as we know it may have been 

In an eternal time loop, the same may be true for our lives, as everything 

Reflects the way God could have planned it. This could explain

Why there may really be life after death - it all depends on which theory

Is really correct. As God is eternal, then maybe we are also eternal - it

All may be in God's plan, to keep the whole universe as one.

It seems possible that there maybe no Alpha or Omega after all.

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The Song Of David

Enlighten days have past
He comes excel in all, so he thinks
"I am greater than man,
I know what ignorant man does not.
Come to me for knowledge unsurpassed!".
He points to the blue heaven,
"Where is thy wisdom? For I know all.
Where is thy command? That makes the ground shake
And brings forth water that lives?"

At the great gatherings,
He flocks the shepherds, blind, mute and deaf  
He answers to the multitude of questions
He asked the shepherds, "but what are thy questions?",
“I know not what do ask a man of your wisdom, but what  is a dream?
What is life?” asked the young herdsman.
"I know not what you speak of", said the Man.
"I only know what i can feel, touch and see"

"A dream is dream that passes us by, like gentle breeze of fresh spring.
Life holds all things mystery and doubts.
Shepherd knows to flock, not life or dreams".
"The shepherds are those who are humble, noble one", said the herdsman
"The blind cannot see, the mute cannot speak and the deaf cannot hear".
"Who are you preaching to? Silent and amaze, the man looks on.  

"If the blind could see you, 
They would say, 'look here is the man who tried to humble the blind
For they can see what others cannot,
If the mute could speak, they would humble you!
And if the deaf could hear they would shamed your wisdom".
"Was I a fool?" said the Man "or are you not that young herdsman?
Who knows nothing of life and passes his days tending the sheep's?
What could you learn from such simpleton life?"

"Life I live is simple indeed, 
No one knows that the shepherds are those who protects the weak"
"Nature is a friend of the shepherd; we sing the song of David
And rubs the olive oil to our young sheep, to keep away the flies".
Insulted, the man's fury turns over to the young herdsman
"Nature? Protect the weak? The song of David? Flies?
How can nature befriend a lonely shepherd? Protect who?
Song of David the Shepherd who became the king? 
What flies would harm the young flocks?"

The young herdsman smiled at the frown face of the man,
Left without a word
The blind, the mute and deaf ignored the man.
An unyielding shame kept the man humbled
He wonders why the young herdsman smiled about.
He came about a bridge and crossed the rocky roads
On the hill top he stood 
And saw the young herdsman singing the Song of David.

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Sacrament of Baptism

The day of Pentecost, Church celebrated
Administered Holy Baptism
St. Peter declares
“Repent and be baptized in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of sins and receive the gift of the Holy Spirit”

The apostles offer baptism to anyone who believed in Fr. Christ Jesus
You will be saved
You and your household
St. Paul declared to his baptized and with all his family

Baptism is birth into the new life in Fr. Christ Jesus
In accordance with Lord God’s will
It is necessary for salvation
As the Church herself, we enter by Baptism

Baptismal grace includes forgiveness of original sin
Birth to a new life by man becomes an adopted son of the Father
A member of Fr. Christ
A temple of the Holy Spirit

Those who die for faith
 All those without knowing the Church under the inspiration of grace
Seek God sincerely, strive to fulfill his will
Can be saved even if they have not been baptize

With respect to children who have died without baptism
The Church invites us to trust in God’s mercy
The angel of Lord God said
The babies are safe in heaven

Written 09172012

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Religious Alert

The temperature plummeted to 26 last night
I figured something like that 
When I discovered the cats  
On my bed  
In fact, side by side 
Actually touching; 
No batting or hissing involved 

So according to Fluffy, 
Hades froze over

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Narrative Qualities

Chatter; chatter; nag; nag; shut up they cry; proclaim a truce; dug beneath the 
sandy cove. 

Dermatitis dramatics; ghouls forlorn; faces exuberant in detail; wistful; smiling; 
caving; longing; sunning; words without need; need without words; immaculate 
conception. She stood; Farrell watched; gracing the parapet with parenthesis 
and parochial intent; grin overlong; foreboding yet intuitively inviting. He stood; 
Ferrell watched; pour poor swine; marital bliss; marital kiss; marital law; sternly 
facing the couple; mouth aghast; shouting down the crowd. 

“Is there anyone here who finds fault with this union?”

Farrell held his own; run they say; heir to the throne; a testament of guilt; to be so 
overly apologetic regardless of circumstance is to be appalling; it’s unheard of; 
even throughout the salient circles of silent elect; neglect yourself. 

“Arthur your wife knew too well…”

Reminisce; reconvict the perennial cyst; they kissed; marital bliss; marital kiss; 
marital law. They stood; Ferrell watched; skulking the heads of unleaven bread; 
heathen and sheathing the sickles instead; Ferrell construed pastures anew; 
skipping the scene; sauntering down a back alley boardroom. 

Farce off the elbow. 

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The Loner

The Loner

Chronicles of a long Distant Race

I arrive amidst all the chatter and confusion
that seems to haunt all pre-race activities,
friend greeting friend,
club member greets fellow member,
New shoes, shorts and shirts being shown emulously.
Profusions of Vaseline used in all those little places,
stretches of an overweening nature giving one an
overawed feeling of inferiority,
warm up laps being produced at a frightening pace
conveying to this novice the very thoughts they are suppose to!
Tannoy system then bursts into action signifying the
end of the disorganized bustle, thus signaling the creation
of the organized hustle.
“Favourites to the front, others to the rear,”
Mr. Starter then proceeds to give a small sermon to all,
on sportsmanship.
The pistol then snarls, the jostle begins, one thousand souls
are manoeuvred on their fervid way, each striving violently
to become at peace with one's inner self.
Still jovial the chatter remains at fever pitch,
only time will subside its fervour.
I, trying to focus in my mind any subject at will, if only to
ease the pain of this competitive array.
Step by step the miles begin to abate, this, only reminding the
body of what already has been achieved,
leaving one searching the brain for even more constructive
reasoning for progression.
Then through eyes glazed by abundance of moisture I see the
eternal finishing line,
with throngs of folk waiting proudly to caress to share to
I finish amid scenes of wild excitement breaking out all
around me,
although I have an inner satisfaction of achievement I still feel
like a stranger here, in this a carnival atmosphere,
for a moment I nearly forget,
that no one is here to share, my glory my burden,
that I am what I am.
The loner!

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Will to Live

I look ahead to the ends promised in my mind
But always reality clouds my eyes with the peppers of life
Sometimes I make hasty progress
Only a few steps ahead to be forced more steps to regress

Sometimes my hope gets a boost from a fine line I read off a book
But as soon as I lay down the book 
The reality of a stool beneath my foot
Makes me anticipate the pain of the noose

Still I have a will and I know that soon I will
On the back of the winged unicorn of my dreams 
...I will soar free
This reality is for the benefit of my dreams
On its harsh grindstones I will sharpen my will to live

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The name game

I’d never have guessed the fuss behind names To the rich and famous, their claim to fame To some a status of great importance Some changed by deed poll, classed as a hindrance Mr, a title and blend of Master Mrs, feminine can one go faster Such fuss over names, fill me with laughter They’ll always be here, before and after.

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Covenant House Prayer

Lord God,

All people have problems and troubles in the world.
Provide children someone to love and be loved,
Help them have someone to walk with as far as they wish.
Give them wisdom or understanding and knowledge to do what is right and what is wrong.

Help children have strength and courage to face their oppressors who tease and bully them
Those who gather socialize and trade their images
Children who are being rape and abuse
Enlighten people to realize their horrifying acts

Please help children choose the right decisions to the things that happens
Help the children's attitude towards people.
Give them fortitude or strength to hope for their brighter future
Help them reach their teenage years in peace

Give them courage to face their trials,
Perseverance to strive hard to reach their best and be successful
Help them have Patience and Tolerance when dealing with hardships
Comfort them mentally and physically to be calm.

We ask this through Your Son, Fr. Christ
Who lives and reigns with You forever and ever.  


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What's on the Cover

What's on the Cover
        by Amy Swanson

"Fat, fat, the water rat,"
the other children said - 
and she could never after
get that phrase out of her head.

Little girl would anxiously
await the time for play,
praying silently that they
would not tease her today.

Every recess was the same
and each day she would cry,
at times she felt so hideous
she wanted to just die.

She had to work three times as hard
to lose a little weight
while others could eat anything
that sat upon their plate.

She grew into her teen years
all too quickly she found out
that if her food did not stay down
no longer she'd be stout.

She knew that this was not the way,
a miserable eating plan;
but it made the teasing stop,
she even met a man.

She kept her secret very well
continued it for years
while going through life's motions,
hid behind her silent tears.

Folks would say "You're beautiful,"
but if they only knew
just what it took to stay that way
they'd have a different view.

Life goes on, and time went by
no matter how she tried
she never felt like she belonged
sometimes she sat and cried.

Society cares far too much
for lust of lovely things,
And those that don't like what they see
will quickly clip the wings

of someone else who won't conform
to this world's shape and image.
It matters not, their brains or heart,
it's more about the visage.

She raised her head and looked into
the mirror, with wet eyes
she shook her head and suddenly
she came to realize

she was as good as anyone
with so much love to give -
she'd died inside, a slave to scales
she now wanted to live.

She splashed cool water on her face
and made a solemn vow
today would be a fresh new start
beginning here and now.

This is not just one girl's story
many share her tale;
warnings of bulimia
oft met with no avail.

If only we could look beyond
the flesh of one another;
True value based on what's inside,
not what's on the cover.

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" I 'AM"

Its dark cold and wet below
I'am all alone does anyone know?
I fell the warmth of my padded earth;
Trying to make out what life is worth.

I wonder what's up there? will I know?
It must be good from that great glow.
HeY! I broke through....I can see.....
There is more around than just me.
Ah,what a releif I'am not alone;
I see others small like me too growing strong.

It feels so good to be on top.....but I am still growing, will I ever stop?
Up,up,up and out is how I go,in heat,rain,wind or snow.........
Alas........I AM.

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The Countryside

Born beneath the misty hills
In a world that silently heals
Where lush greenery blooms in abundance
Adorning the apple trees with magical essence.
As the rising sun lights up the eastern sky,
Children run towards the apple trees with dreamy eyes.
Their rosy cheeks resemble ripe apples
And they run around the countryside sprinkling seeds of love.
The golden rays of the sun settle upon the tranquil hills
And illuminate the hearts of a flock of sheep.
As they bathe in the holy sunlight
Purity rises up from their hearts and mingles with mist like a playful dove.
As the evening sets in and the western sky turns orange,
Peacocks start dancing to the tune of dew
And innocent squirrels hug the moist bluebells and daffodils gracefully
Glorifying the colourful  countryside with sheer genuineness.
When the night grows in a sincere way,
The moons and stars gather above the countryside.
Endowed by their enchanting light,
Angels come down to the countryside sailing on blissful winds.
Angels visit a celebrating waterfall
Which murmurs its own heartfelt rhythm.
They open the doors of their soul
And transform the heartfelt rhythm into lullaby.
Angels fly around and sing the lullaby in their divine voices,
Blessing the countryside to a peaceful sleep.
The angels knit the countryside with an aura of tenderness
And pay homage to her worth.

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Why Church called Catholic

Church is a she Bride of Father Christ Church is Catholic Church is people Catholic related to the whole Greek kat’holon Father Christ called Profess whole faith Preserve all Sacraments To administer To proclaim Good News Sent her to all nations (YOUCAT) 4092013

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Debauched, extortionate and inconstant 
was the knavish and foul mercenary?
The perfidious praetorian reprobate
was a venal unscrupulous slug.
Debased in character and depraved in spirit
this purveyor of evil tended to his wicked ways.
Morally spoiled, he was a putrid putrescent 
and an aberration to integrity.
Nefarious and tainted in character,
he infected the soul.
Treacherous and two-faced,
underhanded and unethical, 
debased and unprincipled,
this snide poor excuse to humanity
defined the meaning of "corruption."

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I was walking down at Green-bank park
Rather frightened as it was dark
There I fell into this ditch
And came across the most gruesome witch
At first she scared me half to death
As she sat there to my left
Her nose more pointed than I had seen
Face covered with moles and eyes so green
Her jacket was torn her hair was a mess
And holes were ladders to the hem of her dress
Before I could catch my breath with time
She began to sing some words of rhyme

Rickety .. Rackety I am a friendly witch
Be my friend and I shall grant you a wish
Just don’t you listen to all they say
Look here us witches are happy and gay
Look here us witches are happy and gay.

Then she told me a story of a witches life
Condemned bad and gone was her right
Burnt at the stake long in the past
But no evil spell did she ever cast
Just helped the people of the wood
For it was not them that misunderstood
It be the greedy ones of her time
Then took the medicine and called it mine
Then took the medicine and called it mine

So the tale they tell of Halloween
Is far from the truth, from what I had seen
Just look little girl as you will see
I may be ugly but evil not me
The cats we kept took care of the mice
And the hats we wore kept our ears from ice
We cleaned our homes with shrub broom
As rosemary and lavender fragrance our room
As rosemary and lavender fragrance our room

Do tell do tell of our nurses today
Witches the same in their own kind of way
Potions and tonics from the herbs of old
Combine the mixture of modern parocetemol 
These wise and gentle ladies of our past
Only took upon one the doctors task
So little ‘O’ bright girl, now do tell me your view
Of withes and nurses do tell who’s who
Of witches and nurses do tell who’s who

Oh sweet lady for judging it is I whom feel the fool
But your memory is of evilness of that you were so cruel
In a sense, innocent I now know you to be
So I shall not run, I shall not turn and flee
The wish of that I ask, to be that of your friend
Now I truly understand this message that you send
No more shall I be afraid or listen to their say
Of all you witches now I know to be so happy and gay
Of all you witches now I know to be so happy and gay

Rickety….Rackety I’m just a friendly so said witch
I possess no magic to grant you a wish
I only cared and took the sick in hand
Using the remedies produced by our land
Using the remedies produced by our                                                                      

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Captivated by awed silence
Circling through streets of wiseland
Within old silent jungle
A city of one thousand people
Judged by symbol of love,
Burning in their eyes,
And I noticed germ of wisdom,
Grazing like flock of sheep
Within fields of their lives;
In the corridor of wiseland
Away from wolves and hyenas' world
A city of one thousand hopefuls
Everyone marching with dignified peace,
Touching my sense of belonging positively
To rise and begin sharing good news
That there could never be a better thing,
Than peace, truth and everlasting love

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Java for Life

No better brew in life can be found
then that made from the grounds
of self confidence, sweetened
with self command and topped
off with the cream of accomplishment.

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Message to GOD

Forgive me father for i have sinned, bless me for i have repented.
Now i truly know the power of the lord upon this blessed land
I have seen this worlds true colours. For these people there is hope.

The gardens of earth watered with the blood of tyrants.
Leveled out by the sweat of heroes.

I hear your name whisperd through the wind.
like chinese whispers, it gets mislead and twisted.

I see your image perfectly crafted upon each of us.

You give us a spirit, you guide it. but like a feather in the wind it blows off course
We are brought into the world, being told lie after lie, subliminal messges are the truth.
We stumble across the truth by mistake but we ignore it, asif it were not there.

We live in a time of need, we need our gaurdian angel to continue to guide us.
To guide us through the dark world of decietfulness,
To keep us warm from the cold hatred thrown upon us,
To shelter us from the hailstorm of lies.

People are losing hope, they no longer believe,
but i have not given up.

We need you to return to help bring the world back to order,
I'll travel to the far ends of the world to discover the truth,
I'll sail the bluest of sea's to find peace,
I'll fly through the clearest of skys, fluffiest of clouds to find out what awaits me in heaven

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Church View Other Religions

Church view other religions Church respects other religions That is good and true She respects and promotes freedom of religion Human right Effect of the Truth will be seen later She knows Father Christ, sole redeemer of mankind He alone is “the way, the truth and the life” ([St.] Jn 14 : 6) (YOUCAT) 4092013

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Cats Are Lucky

The human species has been propagated
God knows, we have multiplied way Beyond necessity
We are living longer
Relationships don’t have to only 
Be for reproductive purposes

I have an eleven year old cat
Who is hooking up with a one year old
And we think that’s cute
It’s not for multiplying
These cats have been fixed so as not to
Propagate more of that species
But it may be for romance

According to my latest book on cats,
This would be like a 66 year old human
Hooking up with a 24 year old
Which is not considered cute

If the older one is male
He’s a dirty old man
Or lucky – depending on his wealth;
If the older one is female
She’s a cougar
No matter what her wealth
(Back to cats)

I find as I age, I gather knowledge
Which is not necessarily connected to wisdom
My body gathers rust and dust
In creaky bones and wrinkling skin
But my self, my inner person
Stopped aging at about 24
- A mature being
But still young

According to that book
A one-year-old cat
Is like a 24-year old human
Mature; but still young

Which is all to say
I had a dream this morning
Wherein I met a young man
Just out of college and into his career
And he was very attractive
I mean intellectually and spiritually 
As well as physically
I am 66 years old
And he was probably 24

I was torn between trying to get near
With the hope of starting
At least a friendship 
- And keeping an objective distance
My heart would propel me toward him
My head would see
Reason, Public Opinion; maybe even
Wisdom standing nearby
(Who knows but that I wouldn’t end up
A foolish old wanna be cougar
With a broken heart)

I never made up my mind
And woke up feeling sad

Which is to say
Now I understand Demi and Aston Better
And even though I shudder,
I may even understand Hugh 
And his latest wedding fiasco

I wish that in Human Evolution,
We would have not lost
All our fur 
Which covered our wrinkles
And kept our bones warm

Cats are lucky

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Man does not know me, 
For they know not my nature;
Yet deceiving themselves,
To be the judges of truth

Devil knows me,
But makes a mockery of me;
God knows me but He is silent. 

I heard the wind blowing from the south, east, west and the north.
I heard a voice from afar
Of coming days of turmoil and despair
And my future came to a haul.
I came across a long bridge, of life and death. 
As I stood in the middle and heard a thunderous voice
"Haul! I am the gatekeeper. No one crosses this bridge without my consent"
He said: “Look at thy work", as he pointed to the north.

As I looked I saw a huge tower of edifice, 
Jutting out of the ground
And as I looked and gaze as it pierce the heavens
I saw Oblivion.

He stood high above the heavens,
Looking down on the earth,
That He was about to devour. 
Over shadowing the longest plains
And the tallest mountains

I trembled and my body stayed still,
Lifeless and all my hopes were stolen by the size of the Oblivion.
He stretched out his colossus hand,
And it block out the sun
It was night at dawn and the lights in a man’s heart died out.
His legs crushed the mountains and destroyed the valleys;
He provoked men into anger,
And a man’s fury and wrath has undone them.

Trembling in fear, the frightful appearance of the Iron Giant
I fainted, for the Oblivion…looked at me, 
As I slowly fainted and eyes began to close, helpless as I was
The Gatekeeper with a voice of ultimate wrath of a thousand Holy Angles;
Destroyed the Colossus Iron Giant, and I Heard the voice of the Divine,
“Know than, my child that I know thee, 
 For I have always known thee even before thy birth”

Man does not know me, 
For they know not my nature;
Yet deceiving themselves,
To be the judges of truth

Devil knows me,
But makes a mockery of me;
But God knows me and He does not shut the doors of Heaven
Neither to good or evil men
I realize the wind was God, telling me of the things about to befall the world of man. 
The Iron giant was banished into the deep and chained for all eternity. 

Then He said, “The tower is the pride of man,
They challenge the heavens with their knowledge;
The Iron Giant is the destructive nature of man,
And I have bide them in chains to humble them”  



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My Grievance

I did nothing to you
I did my job
I worked hard
You didn’t help me
You had me 
At work until 7pm
Nightly for the first
As time rolled on
I started getting better
And you kept pouring
Showers of stormy weather
Giving me letters 
Stating false information
Doing everything
You can to wreck 
Tried to fail me
In observations
Boy did you
Dish a lot on my plate
I could never
Believe that one
Could relay
So much hate
Maybe I made
A mistake 
In wanting to succeed
The whole time
I stayed on my knees
You will be charged
For malfeasance
This is only
A fraction
Of my grievance.

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Take A Peek Inside

My skull is full of secrets waiting to get out,
From a mind that uses all available orifices.
This mouth telling you one of a million stories,
My brain escapes from within each time it speaks.

These eyes send each precious memory outside,
Some have even ridden there on a lonely tear.
My ears are a different story from the rest,
They love to pull those sighs back inside.

And let's not forget all those wonderful accessories,
Without lips my mouth would never have known a kiss.
My ears feeling no ecstasy nibbles minus their lobes,
Eyes missing those lovely surprises if not for lids.

Of course my nose does do a romantic ebb and flow,
Inhaling life's perfumes while exhaling the passion.
Hoping you've enjoyed this brief trip into my psyche,
Still, all my outer ornaments have made a contribution.

Copyright © 2014 Robert William Gruhn - All Rights Reserved

"A poem to me is the essence of any thought,
Being built from its foundation into tower scraping sky.
It can fly like no other bird to places never seen,
Even spaceships can only dream of taking its place."

© 2014 Robert William Gruhn

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Internet education

I have an internet education 
I graduate everyday
I have an internet education
I bookmark my favorite page

I know about civil war
In Bosnia and the Sudan 
and that one in the United States
that forged "American"
Water rights in Tibet
Afghanistan's hidden resources
Machinery for the war
we haven't fought yet
revealing plotted courses

Challenge me to any thing 
it not about how fast I type
It is a perennial philosophical reflection
that if one looks deeply into oneself
one will discover not only one's own essence
but also the essence of the universe. 
For as one is a part of the universe
as is everything else,
the basic energies of the universe
flow through oneself
as they flow through everything else.
So it is thought that 
one can come into contact 
with the nature of the universe
if one comes into contact 
with one's own nature. 

In seconds I can translate
Chinese and Tagalog
Create a web site, delete a face book
even start a blog (Beaureguard Schmeltzer)
I have an internet education
every day I am learning more
with my internet education
its about me like never before.

Now who do I share this with
my lessons of life
I spent twenty five years at the keyboard
my muscles are tight.
I miss me...
Until tomorrow and the school bell rings again.
Keep up your education any way you can.

Never keep to your self the beauty that is inside 
share your time, your life, your spirit with others.
Get out, enjoy, play music, paint.
Bring home the white clouds again. 

Beaureguard Schmeltzer
Arthur Schopenhauer, how did you know?

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Dream Catcher

When the light of the sun begins to fall Echoes of thoughts begin to ball Drifting into a sleepless state Possibilities grow, at a relentless rate I open my mind, in a wonderland of no validity Emphasized by a walk, through a mirror of fluidity Children's laughter in a sadistic tone This dream is a nightmare, far from home The path I am walking........leads to a house Beyond the door, I wish for my friend, my lover and spouse As the door creaks open a figure is revealed I brace myself, my numbness is my shield A wrinkled hand reaches out from the black It grabs my wrist, leaving no time to fight back As I'm dragged into the darkness, the figure becomes clear The face of my victim, my deepest fear

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Title Taken

The page laughing at me the canvas cold and blank.
Winter filled room in the middle of june.
Why had my heart run a ground on such jagged shores.

Now I scavage for remains of my soul.
ragged I wonder would anyone remember me apon my return.
Would she stand smile apon face and regret in heart.

The page stayed empty for a reason.
They were all gone the great titles along with there writers.

Me the fool brave or foolish enough to  attempt the
impossible  with little to show for it.
A broken relationship and some bad tattos  in 
some  weird places.

To be stuck down in a  hollow .
Is fine  with suplies lowand the truth a sober mind brings 
time was ticking the false deadline was apon me.
And like a kid trying to cram in every answer on a school test.
I was stuggling  waitting for the teacher to say times up.

Hands shaking from the need throat dry  and a headache
that would last for a week.
Why had it always come to this  isolation.

Maybe it was the roads way of calling me back.
Like a lover calling me back to bed.
To entangle untill the mornings light.

Yet just like a passionet affair the struggle for the title 
kept me trapped to this place for nights on end.
You cant grasp what is never yours its 
like trying to see that sweet southern breeze.

Everytime you find  one with which your heart agree's 
 You find the titles taken.
life and love will always  bring you to your knees.

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KUNDUN, a movie about the Dalai Lama

What struck me is that it showed him
Always leaving
And sadly looking back
At his family home
Going to Llasa
To be (re)educated
Tenzin Gyatso was found as a young child
Went through many tests to prove
That he was the 13th Dalai Lama
He passed the tests
“That cup is mine”
“These prayer beads are mine”
“There is where I kept my (false) teeth”

His family was allowed to follow
And were set up in a new household
Where Tenzin was allowed to visit
Merely visit
He lived at the palace
Away from his mother
He had to learn 
Duties of state

As he matured,
He had to leave
His childhood
And take his title
At age 15
To deal with the Chinese
Who forced him 
To leave his country
His people, although some followed
The last scene shows him 
Standing in his new room
Near the Indian Tibetan border
Looking back through his telescope

then went to bed
And woke up sad; remembering:

Jesus was always leaving
Although I think He looked forward
He must have looked back
At His family
At His town
At His new found friends
At His enemies
Each time, although some followed
Until He was forced to leave

Why was I sad?
I grew up the youngest in my family
It seems everyone was always leaving
Some looking back; others not

As I grew older
I left, too
And rarely looked back

Life seems full of leavings
Friends and family
Go to live elsewhere
Or die
to play in heaven without me

You ask what
Day I would like to relive
I say 
I think of the play OUR TOWN
Where the newly deceased protagonist
Is given a day to relive
With advice to pick an ‘ordinary day’
And even then, 
She found it painful

Looking back on memories is enough
The mind tends to play tricks
And nothing is as it seemed
(Check family stories 
The ‘truth’ varies from person to person)

Reliving a day past
Might be disappointing
Or not
But different
Reliving anything would be impossible

The Dalai Lama looked back at his beloved country
Changing even as he looked
I don’t think he can ever go back; since there is 
No longer a ‘back’

I never met the Dalai Lama
In any lifetimes, I think
But I do remember Jesus
I watched Him leave many times
Sometimes I followed
But that last time
He went where I couldn’t follow
And I couldn’t keep Him here

So when you ask me what day
I would like to relive
I say none
How many goodbyes is one
Expected to survive?

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Limitless Lust

Introduction: Limit itself has a limit of its own…

A walk, mile after mile
In quest for my lost soul,
I had forgotten how to smile
Everything felt out of control,
I fought too hard to be worthwhile
By that I got lost in my life’s hole

The regrets for mistakes I’ve made
It took me off the edge, way too far away;
Yet I tried again so hard to get off from that shade
But got caught up in my brutal fray,
The same song keeps playing with such a vicious rage,
I find myself down to my knees, nowhere to go - So I pray

A prayer to leave the worst and move onto more,
Come off this fantasy and onto reality, to be -
Closer to something I’ve been fighting for
The touch of the light cutting through the night, it rains down upon me
As I overcome the grief and believe, recovery lies ashore,
Only three steps remain, to be fixed and free.

A lesson of value I earned from my faults -
Never push yourself off the edge,
You’ll lose the only key to the vault
A life you never had to live – It too could forever be lost,
So stay confined within the limits of the limit
As it seems - Your control over lust, only can make you complete.

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Modern Proverb 7

Faith, is the antithesis of proof yet Truth, comes from the mind and the heart

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Calling Father


Eternal Father stepped down and gave His thrown to Eternal Son
We are on the New Testament with God the Son
Angel Gabriel told Mother Mary to name Him “Jesus”, when He was a Jew
He grew, started a Universal Church and was baptized by St. John the Baptist

Eternal Father, Yahweh gave Him a name of “Christ”
Apostle is a Priest
Eternal Son is the Apostle of Eternal Father
He is the Highest Priest of the Universal Church

Universal is Catholic or Roman Catholic Church
He didn’t need to be baptized
But He did anyway to for the righteous
He ordered 12 Apostles to preach His Gospel

Eternal Son is the Apostle of Eternal Father
Eternal Son is Father Christ
Father Christ is the Highest Priest of the Catholic or Roman Catholic Church
Should we not call Him “Father” for the righteous? >

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Love is someting on a daily basis that should always be displayed
A kind word,helping hands are ways it can be conveyed.
Hello there!How are you doing ?Or may I help you please.....
Are all but a few phrases that could be said with ease?

Instead.....its no thank you!I donk care or who are you anyway?
You're just trying to extend a little love and then they blow you away.
That's a nice dress,I like your hair or may I please see your hat?
All you can hear with a cold stare is what you think he looking at.

Our dear Father who lives up above,said to love everyone like your self;
I guess people these days got tired of that and put love back on the shelf.
We need to take it back down ,dust it off and give it another try,
Its not that hard to spread around even if its denied.

I still beleive that love has hope amidst the doom and gloom;
It may get better....I don't know?......before GOD comes,or when man
lives on the moon

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Livearthia is a planet that is full of life.  A place were death has no breath, and nobody knows the meaning of the word.  Here death can't even be made up.  Here beings are born to live forever.  Growing up, being young, growing old, being young again, growing up and old, over and over again, and never dying.  In this world, age is determined by how many life cycles you have lived, each cycle you gain more and more experience, unlike planet Earth where you only live one cycle, and the word death is every where, a sad and lonely planet, oblivious to the vast space that surrounds it, there's an intelligence there that brings affliction and war to its kind.  In Livearthia the sky is lit up with planets and six of what earthling's call moons, livearthians call glooms and two distant stars that always shine, and it never rains in Livearthia there‘s just a fog, a mist, or a dew.  Living things just live, and hunger does not exist.. Livearthians do not speak, they use telepathy, and sign language.  One of Livearthia’s glooms is an albino gloom that shines bright but is only the size of  Mt. Rushmore.  Livearthians inhabit five of the twenty seven planets that surround it Affinity, Infinitum, Vernier, Sagacious, and Callow.

~ Leonard Napierskie


The Livearthia population numbers only in the thousands, planets in the Livear universe are much smaller, and younger.  Livearthians do not multiply and over populate the planet much like the humans do to the Earth.  Livearthians are much more god like obtaining powers unimaginable, and they do not travel outside there solar system because they choose not to, they are happy where they are.

~ Leonard Napierskie

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A baby's courage

Nowhere to run, nowhere to breathe
And grasses are on fire.
The manly beasts are having their fun
For they have nothing to spare.
All the victims, coiled with each other,
No matter who is rich, who is poor.
The earth is crying and the devil is smiling
For there is none to cure.

A mother with a baby in her lap,
Running......the death is so sure.
One of the beast appeared from nowhere
And smashed her on the ground.
She was crying and crying and begging her life,
But the fate didn't turn around.
And then came the flash of gun
And there laid the lady dead.
The cruel has crashed through
Her trembling and sweating forehead.
The beastly pig was about to laugh,
While he stopped with a gaze.
While everyone was struggling in horror,
The baby was laughing in hi face

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You offered me a
false paradise
When I am dead
You offered me
But my world
Was hell instead
And when I leave
this earth
Knowing this to be
That my seeds have
inherited iniquities
And pestilence in
You stand on the
Propagating lies
And you do not
deceive me
Because I have eyes
You plunder our
While you turn me
against my brother
And made fools of us
So I wonder 
You work on our
Turned brave men
It is an act of
Welcome to the
When there was
enough bread
To go round
You mocked me
And made me look
like a clown
Made me beg for my
birth right
Which you call a
And anytime I raise
my voice
People called it a
You told me to wait
for heaven
While you built
yours on earth
You told me it will
be better
Yes I could never
Castles on the moon
Parties in
Wonderland from
January to June
Pegasus with golden
wings flying men
like gods
While we eat from
garbage cans like
But it was never my
turn to go to heaven
Even though I had
one life to live
It was never my turn
to go to heaven
Because there is
nothing more to give
My heaven is now 
Not tomorrow
Because I will not
live a life of
My heaven is now not
Because life is not
something that we
can borrow

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Frozen in time,
captivated by this enormous being,
the size of a small car.

his every move.
The way he used his hands;
so child-like.
With all the consciousness of the world, 
and graceless coordination.

of the visitors,
as they briefly called out for his attention.
Only for a moment,
then they were gone.

in an orderly sham. 
He sat there,
in his dark cave.
As if he was waiting for the light to find him.

on a boulder, 
squatting, and primitive.
Drawing in the dirt with one hand. 
Swatting a fly with the other.

His nature,
as he rushed to consume his food.
The females hovered behind him,
watching intently, 
like me.
His movement mechanic.
His presence powerful.
He was the king of his domain.

his magnificence, I watched.
How smart was he?
Could he feel my presence? 
Engulfed in the very essence of all that was him, 
I watched. 

how he felt, I watched.
Did he think he was still in the womb of Mother Nature?
Or, did he know the iron bars which embrace him now?

it happened;
our eyes met.
He noticed my presence.
His gaze intimidated me, 
But I did not look away.
He approached me.
I felt his eyes inspecting my soul.
A chill ran down my back,
I turned behind me,
only to find no other presence there.
When I turned back, 
we were face to face.
Separated by the sham,
And a two inch piece of glass.
Just me and him,
the two of us,
and the females hovering behind him.

His old eyes spoke to me,
They said 
“I am like you. 
I love, I feel, I hurt.
I am, like you.”

I put my hand on the glass
and with all the 
consciousness of the world,
he did the same.
With tears in my eyes,
I smiled.

Then, he pooped in his other hand
and wiped it on the glass.
This was a sign of endearment.
I laughed out loud.
And I swear,
He smiled back.

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The Widows Hour

A black widow hides
the hour’s count, in a painted
red glass, on the underside 
of her belly.

Unlike a snow white kitten,
the hard shiny black widow
receives not one loving caress.

In the pale moonlight the black widow spins a silver web.
It created a growing and binding spell-like enchantment.

A man and a woman
are dancing through time.
A man and a woman and a black widow
are dancing through time.

I do not know which I prefer,
Us making love by a sizzling fire
Or us making love on the cold wet sand,
the black widow scurrying across the beach
Or the moment we met.

A web repaired a broken window
with finely spun silk.
The shadow of the black widow
remains hidden from view.
The silence
hanging in the web
spoke a thousand words.

Descendants of Adam,
Why do you fear this little spider so?
Do you not see how the black widow
splashes and plays in her bath
as naturally as the child within you?

I know that I know nothing
and I remember everything all at once;
I know, as well,
that the black widow does not worry
about what I know.

Dark spaces harbor the black widow.
Shake out your shoes,
shirts, and jackets after they’ve been on the floor.

The black widow’s shadow
encloses the stars like an eclipse,
even I cannot overlook a
cosmic event as rare as this.

She walked across the Nile
in crystal slippers.
Escaping, she never looked back
over her ivory shoulder,
the black widow’s shrill song flies
through the wind and echoes on the water.

Grains of sand are filling the glass slowly.
The black widow must be endlessly dreaming.

The sun beat down while it rained.
I was not moving
and I was not going to move.
In the peak of the thirteenth hour
the black widow traced circles,
after kissing me lightly on the 
back of my hand.

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Balance Within

Introduction: Even if you're tied to barely holding on, your control over will power shall pull you up towards the truth and success. But only if you believe up to all, that it's stronger than what you could be - that's when you balance the fall...

You may get old
Your memories may drown,
But your soul won't get cold
And beliefs won't breakdown.

Just don't you let go
As you never know,
Things you seek for all your years
They could be in your back yard.

Find the truth within the lies,
Fight your pride to end this cry,
Trust your soul; open the door
Balance yourself and roll the stones.

The one's you heart will always stay
So don't throw life out your doorway,
Life's too short and it's too real
Sometimes it's hard to see and feel

That's how you live a life,
The risk that breaks you down to bits
Saves and brings you back alive,
That's what we call the gift of life.

No matter how rough things might get
We get rewards for the risks we take,
No matter how hard or sad
Learn and value what you have.

Though, too much pride will leave you dried
Don't let 'hopeless', be your life's stride,
None of this will you take to grave,
Your deeds will lay, only your pave.

As you breathe in and do breathe out,
Make each one profound
And stand your ground,
As lies are just the fantasy,
The truth - is your ecstasy
And this will forever be plain to see... 

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God or Father Christ

Apostle is a priest
Eternal Son is the Apostle of Eternal Father
Eternal Father gave the name Christ when He was baptized by St. John the Baptist
He ordered the 12 apostle to preach His Gospel

He was the Highest Priest of the Universal Church
Universal means Catholic or Roman Catholic
There is a purgatory
Yes, purgatory is in the bible

The 2nd book of Maccabees, Old Testament
Purgatory or Purification
Intellectually understood 
All as in everybody should be under Eternal Son’s Universal Church

Eternal Son is the Highest Priest of the Catholic or Roman Catholic Church
It is for the righteous to call Eternal Son Father Christ
Eternal Father is in Him
Father Christ sends the Holy Spirit

Christians will be in the Purgatory
Until they learn from their Initiation before going to heaven
On earth is called Rite of Christian Initiation for Adults R.C.I.A. to be the true Christian
Three types are slain

Father Christ is the pathway to heaven
To face Eternal Father and the Divines
It is my job to inform everybody
Visit to know more

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Modern Proverb 4

~*~ The daydream is the freethinkers nightmare

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Shoes Party

Sometimes, Poet goes to the party.
Neglecting solitary for awhile.
Searching words in the open air.
"I hope I can find the most beautiful poem here."
This night, I'm very proud with my most colorful body.

On an arrival, I try to change my suffering card with a glass of laugh.
"Please, don't forget that tear of the card.
It will toss in the end of the party," said a man with the shoe,
who standing aside the door.
He's a waiter or the man who guests waiting for,
just because on their arrival, he becomes the first goal.

But my welcome drink isn't finished yet when I very shock surprised.
"Why the loneliness of mine is here too?"
Maybe silently it goes, just before the door unlocked.
To it I doubtfully walk.
"Ah, are you invited too?" It faster asks.
Between felt peevish and ashamed, bashful I am.
When I bow my head, again I surprised: I wear the wrong shoes!

“Don’t worry, it’s a shoes party. You can take a chance
dating the most ideal ones somehow.”
I still haven’t any clue, why my solitary
is very comfortable by now.


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What Have We Become

I took a walk in the city 
watched the people that I passed. 
Took a real good look 
then started to do the math. 

Not many paid the time 
to give a smile or even a nod. 
Barreling right through my path 
chins tucked down, ears plugged in 
barely stepping to the side. 

How is it we’ve become so disconnected 
from our fellow man... 
plugged in 
turned on 
zoned in 
turned up 
tuned out 
Too bothered with our devices… 
checking in 
chatting up 
updating our pages 
Distracted from the world around us. 

I pondered all of this as I went 
the lack of courtesy of years gone by. 
Realizing how accustom we’ve become 
with just civility, even on that you can’t rely. 
When now a simple please or thank you 
has become a rare affair. 

So as I walked the sun got higher 
the morning streets filled up. 
And a woman caught my eye 
with large boxes piled high. 
I could see she only managed just 
so I did a quick check round. 
There were plenty men to spare 
But not a single one offered aid 
not a helping hand was found. 
None could bother to be delayed 
as they continued on their way. 

Gone the days of curtsy 
a tip of the hat is just not that 
of something you still see. 
Chivalry is dead they say 
and I’m starting to believe. 
The manners that once were 
are gone and never to be seen. 

That what started as a silly game 
a way to pass the time. 
Quickly turned my day a sour, 
damaging my confidence 
in that of our mankind. 

I decide to treat myself 
before heading home. 
A little coffee pick me up 
is sure to get me feeling fine. 

As I reached for the door 
there’s a hand that brushes mine. 
Looking up I see a handsome guy 
with a flash of smile in his eye. 
“After you!” he says 
and gestures to go ahead. 
I thank the man, somewhat stunned 
and make my way on by. 

Warm with its creamy taste 
I savor my hot treat. 
And think maybe, just maybe 
death has yet to come 
to common decency. 

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Living Today

Living Today

By BJ Welsh

Waiting for the answer to come
Makes one’s life even more hum drum
Sitting and staring without any news
Is an impossible feat if that’s what you choose

How much longer can one be idle?
Losing one’s outlook as well their title
It’s easy to say just keep busy
The thought of moving makes one dizzy

It’s time to get over it, the pain of error
A life one used to treasure
But did you really believe that theory
Or did you grow tired and a bit weary?

Yourself or others, for whom did you live?
Did you really have all to give?
Suddenly, you put an end to it all
Now you have to accept the fall

Moving on is not so easy
The thought would make anyone queasy
Looking for acceptance in a loving place?
First try your young child’s face

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EVER WATCHED A BUG - A Long Crawly Piece

Hovering in never ending circles,

Some crawling every which way across the ceiling,

Others in deliberate lock step across your floor,

Will they light on you or crawl up your leg?

They don't even know you yet want to get close,

Do they know something about you that you don't?

I've noticed warmer people get more visitors,

Could they be telling all of us something?

Some weave beautiful shimmering silken webs,

Meant to entice or simply teach a lesson?,

That deceit will surely bring an untimely demise?,

Others float sweetly in lovely colors before human eyes,

Causing some to see love while others see dirtied windshields,

Flying flowers is what this man sees,

Lasting just long enough to know what beauty is,

These little creatures that have never proclaimed war,

So many hating them because they invaded their territory,

That Earthling environment so pristine clean and proper,

While insects smell the stench of their aging and rotting bodies,

So why do they want to get so near to us?,

Maybe because they sense the heated glow of our spirits,

Where the living fires of all existence continue without dying.

Copyright © 2014 Robert William Gruhn - All Rights Reserved

"A poem to me is the essence of any thought,
Being built from its foundation into tower scraping sky.
It can fly like no other bird to places never seen,
Even spaceships can only dream of taking its place."

© 2014 Robert William Gruhn


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Modern Proverb 5

Time is the consistency in the overall package

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Moon Kissed

Shadows chasing shooting stars, the poets cry as they write the future.
Words begin to fall like rain, emotions flow between the wind.

The atmosphere evolves.

A beating heart peaking up beneath the pavement. Vines of green hug the pulsating instrument.
Flowers blossom to the sound, a bitter sweet symphony. Petals dance with pixies  upon trees.

The night is singing.

The air is thick and the moon is watching, the glow of silver pours on down.
A kiss of crimson and the heart starts racing. Midnight lovers of the enchanted woods.

A candle burns.

The wax begins to drip upon the rose, the lovers kiss begins to part.
The dancers stop as the crescendo descends, silence for the beating heart.

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Stymied by moral transgressions

While the church of today continues to wrestle with prominent issues,
like those of leadership, moral credibility, or fidelity of her members;
society remains critical to address certain weakpoints already at hand,
those seeming endless lawsuits against the clergy and religious members.

Moments in time unfold the wreckage of moral credibility, trust, and confidence;
it’s like a downfall of the human castle formed with the sanctity of wisdom –
continuity in liturgical sacraments, prayer, and reliance on biblical life;
with faith that God is involved in many events both ecclesial and personal.

It’s on a soaring journey where the Jewish concept of bitachon   is needed,
to move on amid the struggles and other evolving deal of human problems;
so inextricable that make one stronger to cope with what life really means,
in this generation where a culture of arguments abounds in moral situations.

It’s sad to think of what’s going on; it’s painful to experience those afflictions,
the church grieves and suffers with all her leaders’ and members’ transgressions;
with the abuse of power, freedom, and prestige of being one of Christ’ ministers,
heaven weeps as evil triumphs to lead those priests into the world of failures.

The turbulent waves of scandals that have wounded the sacred priestly life,
people’s trust and faithfulness to the sacraments of life – a great turmoil!
the whole Catholicism has been shaken and struggled to redeeem her reputation;
her running sore of afflictions – so widespread that only time can heal the wounds.

With the words of Jesus at his farewell discourse in Johannine literature,
“I will not leave you orphans; I will come to you.”   It’s reassuring so far;
the Spirit of truth  is Christ himself who’ll walk with his own people of all races,
his covenant with them, promise to his disciples, and assurance to all who believe in him.

The church echoes hope and perseverance in the throes of sufferings and tribulations,
She calls everyone to look for the true light – Christ, in hiddenness and humility;
His epiphany  in a continuing journey of faith, in the gospel cries, in various events,
Christ shines in one’s heart, along with the Father and the Holy Spirit – the Paraclete.

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As I lay on the floor
Lost inside the pool of my tears
I finally knew what life was for
And found that all that I had feared

Was nothing more than emptiness
Was nothing more than lie
I know that in the truth, sweet kiss,
Is found a feeling that will never die

My life is but to love and not be loved
To drown inside the sorrow of the years
To feel and not be felt, to lie untouched
As I yet watch her face pass ever near

Ah, I've never been loved
And never will
For I have known true love
And know it still

In my mind's eye
There, the night
That shrouds her face
Inside my sight
I've known perfection
Whole, complete,
Within that sky
Between heartbeats

So here I lie upon the floor
Lost inside the contours of my mind
And now I know what life is for
I know, have found what I could never find

Inside my soul, inside the sky
Of what's within the perfect night
I find my love, I find her there
The one who's now my only sight

A perfect grace, a perfect face
A perfect love, a perfect kiss
A perfect sleep will, perfect, keep
What perfectly exists
Within the only truth that I can find
Within these real imaginings, my mind

So still I lie upon the floor
Still lost within my own reality
So still I lie, in my heart's core
And drink the dew of what I'll never see

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Tis All About the Journey

I’m so thankful for the given path That began when I was just a seed The glorious plan that our God hath Tis all about the journey, indeed Each step in life I take with grace Filled with peace and tranquility Always keeping at a gentle pace I know the best is waiting for me You can’t reach the full bloom Without the growth of the stem Clear the space and make room For the journey provided by Him You gotta step through gritty sand To reach God’s calm sea of ecstasy Slow down and enjoy the given land As it says in that song, Feelin’ Groovy It’s good to be scheduled, almost mostly But some moments are meant to be still Which, always brings to stand a memory Of a moment in time, yes, a really big deal Where ever you are, as you go on your way And it doesn’t even matter where you start Take time often, to be with others and play But be sure you always carry a joyful heart Cherish the yester-moments and live for today Keep dreaming of what the tomorrows might be I may not know for sure, but that’s just what I say And I’ll keep believing, tis all about the journey Florence McMillian (Flo)

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Born Alone Naturally

                                     I am a man born alone
                                     prepared to die alone
                                     in between I will be responsible to me alone
                                     for what I do or who I become 
                                     or what I leave behind when my life is done

                                     my intentions will never be to bring about harm or misery 
                                     but I do intend to face my life and human strife successfully

                                     there may come a time when I’m knocked down
                                     and lay upon the cold and hardened ground
                                     but I will never cast a stone at those who were in my way
                                     only to get back up and start again
                                     in the morning of a brand new day

                                     if I fail that is my choice 
                                     not to listen to your voice
                                     if I succeed that is my choice as well
                                     you’ll never find me cursing or blaming
                                     anyone else that they made my hell

                                     to blame only brings shame in life’s eternal game
                                     when I look into the mirror and face my face alone
                                     I feel the pride inside that I have never cast a stone

                                     we are all self made
                                     but only those who do succeed accept this truth of life
                                     and are willing an able to fight for the right
                                     to stand proud and stand alone 
                                     before we are buried and lay cold under a stone

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Modern Proverb 8

loneliness is a good thing...
to share with someone

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When all these races will join together in strength,

A day when not even one earth child will be forsaken.

For to have forgotten even one is that shame on humanity,

So many millions cast aside within a history of selfishness.

Living briefly under that weight of a life crushing greed,

Killing their spirits in a process of self centered idiocy.

Oh yes it is this truth which surely will end it all,

Ever wonder where that pitch darkness truly comes from?

It is each and every soul which commits eternal suicide,

Joined together into everything that is truly nothing.

To believe there is no responsibility is a foolish end,

Going nowhere after last breath will be forever guaranteed.

For when you start falling who will be there to catch you,

Please can you answer that question I so sincerely ask?

I know not many will respond to my honestly held query,

Because this truth spoken will either save or destroy you.

Copyright © 2014 Robert William Gruhn - All Rights Reserved

"A poem to me is the essence of any thought,
Being built from its foundation into tower scraping sky.
It can fly like no other bird to places never seen,
Even spaceships can only dream of taking its place."

© 2014 Robert William Gruhn

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My Imprint

I always used to ask myself this question, "What kind of imprint do I want to leave with people once I pass and am I scared of dying?"  I had come to this question again once my grandfather passed.He was an amazing human being who loved God by the way.Anyway, I have learned over time through experiences of my life I have realized something and its what I want others to know, its that Life is a gift.So cherish every minute of it even the smallest moments in time.See, everyday is a new opportunity for Forgiveness.Love.Reconciliation. etc. one will not always have the chance to live promisingly.I believe that people need to go about their lives with the perspective of not what can I do for myself.But, what can I do for someone else.For instance, How can I make someone''s day? Or just simply How can I make a person smile today? For me, there's nothing that brings more joy to me than knowing I may have made a difference in a person's life. I just want others to know that the bigger picture in our existence is not just serving Jesus, but its to serve each other. I mean, of course we need to live for the Lord and spread the Gospel and live our own lives. But, there's nothing wrong with a little selflessness and its very fulfilling to do so. Oh, and No. I'm not scared of dying. You see, The Apostle Paul said it well, "To live is Christ. But, to die is gain." I know that it's different when your told you only have so much time to live than when a family member or friend is told this.But quite honestly, to me it's just death. Besides, if I could leave this earth knowing I changed at least one life, it was very worth living it.


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Walking to Redemption

Stuck in a place with negativity bound within it's Walls. I need to get out of here, before the phone rings with insanity's calls. I burst out of the door into the streets owned by the night. Shadows staring back dodging the lamps light. I begin to walk down the urban corridor of uncertainty. The workers of soul catchers carry out their shady activity. I find myself in the empire of danger invoking pure photo-phobia It's a small price to pay for escaping the mecca of claustrophobia. As I reach the climax of the spiraling vortex tunnel. I walk on tenterhooks as my problems funnel. Facing me at the end of this path, is a door laced with remorse around it's edges. The entrance to unknown stands out with a line of devoted pledges. Those waiting and queuing are the damned and the lost. As I drift towards them, I wonder how much my sin will cost. For I felt the weight of the pressure and stress, forcing me into the light of shame? For I was the puppet master, who poured onto me the petrol and drew the flame. My moment of selfishness was a cardinal sin to myself and others. lacking consideration, deprived of thought for my sisters and brothers. That self indulgent cowardliness, has lead me to this final act. A door beaten with the hands of the damned, regardless it's still intact. As the number descends down to it's final member. I stand there understanding my sin, bound to surrender. Reaching out I grasp the golden handle, and turn it to the right. As I push forward on the door and out bursts a green neon light. My chance of escape has come to a halt, it's time for me to face the jury's end. I stand by my plea of weakness and insanity, as into the court I descend. A skeleton of the peril court rises with a verdict and answer. The jury has decided I was overtaken by a vicious cancer. The disease wasn't voluntary but they agree my cure wasn't correct. My punishment is to fade into the man that never was, with immediate effect.

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The Melody of Hope

There I lay upon the curb, my heart still beating An Icy breeze cutting through, my souls was fleeting Looking up into the skies, I saw a flash of hope The clouds divided into blue, and dangled down a helping rope Rising up I start again, I'm fighting stronger The music plays inside my head, this I remember I use the melody to build my strength, I'm shining brighter I lace deceit with the flammable truth, I drop the lighter The phoenix rises from the flames, I see it's eyes Exploded candles ignite the way, I hear it's cries The path I walk leads to my home, a second chance At the end one final trial, it's the devils dance There it lay upon the curb, It's heart still beating Reaching out I take my sword, It's life depleting One final strike and a broken heart, death becomes her The sun comes out and begins to beam, hope forever

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Sitting in a room
Filled with darkness and gloom
Only I wish
To leave here soon

Yet locked are the doors
The sound touches the ear
A sound of devilish laughter, and terrifying roars
Is all i can hear
Where am I?
Where have I gone?

Is this place where
I truly belong?

Not sure of the path
My soul has chosen
Hazy and unclear
My thoughts seem frozen

Everything seems
Like one large test
Despratly i need
A good nights rest

Yet the sound of evil
Is knocking on the door
Can they do anything
Possibly more?

I'm at a crossroad
with two seperate paths 
Yet which shall bring
a reason to live once at last
Judged by everyone
Criticized by all

Still i am standing

Still walking tall

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The assasination of Margaret May

The wind was blowing,
as the car was going,
across the hills ; across the vales
the night seemed young , as each nightbird sung 
to the moon there long and timeless tales.
Then, at midnight hour
the chauffeur rested, his iron fists upon  the wheel.
There it was,
The mansion of Margaret May, 
whose life tonight I shall verily seal.
I approached the moors like a silent hound
I scaled the walls then climbed the mounds
And though the night was dark and still
I still saw the great house upon the grey hill.
I scanned each wing like a wolf would see,
a sheep as it feeds with humility,
and yet it was no prey, that I was to kill,
for the hounds, they now bayed upon each hill.
The moon gleamed its mischief upon the terrace;
And it shined, like an unearthly thing,
it gleamed its sorrow upon my face,
and wailed its scorn, against the human beings.
I entered the house 
the doors were not locked,
so I opened them slowly and its  walls they did talk.
They spoke of devils and demons and familiar kind;
But I did not see them for my soul was blind.
I took out the weapon and its barrel shined,
by the light of the moon thay was now declined.
And having climbed up the ladder,  to the rooms upstairs,
I found  May just finishing her prayers.
She turned around and I gazed at her eyes;
How could such beauty be 'bought' to demise?
I dropped the weapon,
no bullet could shred;
The flesh of the mortal,
that before me was spread.
And yet she would die for the world could not accept,
what in this masion was hidden and kept.
She was not lustful but lust itself 
and yet I could not stop myself.
For I had no soul,
I had no sin,
I went for her throat, and held tight her chin.
She did not struggle;
She did not plead.
Rather she smiled, till I had finished the deed.
And left her silent;
And still upon her bed,
and there she lies smiling,
but her heart is cold and dead

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Once upon a time...

Once upon a time..

I have tried and tried to break the wall...
I have tried and tired to stand tall...
but there are no holes... 
there are no holes for the air to seep in...
I am stuck and I leave now...

I have spoken words.. I have pleaded.. cried .. and shouted....
I choose to remain silent
and forever will be ...

You will beg me to speak.... and you will not hear...
for I would have spoken ages ago... once upon a time...

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A Prince in the Belly of Poor Mens Reality

The walls are speaking harshly of me
They want me to hear what they think of me
I know I’m different from the descendants of their kin’s
I wonder why it bothers them that I am merely being me
Freed to live as I wanna be

They are guests in my territory 
Imprisoned by the chains of poverty
Whipped by the lashes of mediocrity
I wish to ignore them but their noise bothers me
Why this misfortune
Here to live in the core of pessimism

I am a prince lost in the belly of poor men’s reality
As self righteous as they can be in their impoverished reality
My thoughts of hope and my words of better dreams
To them noise to be done away with
They are a lot resigned to their reality
A dollar or two at the end of the day 
Does just well to satisfy them completely

They do not understand why a prince like me
Would one day wish to be king
I don’t understand why able men like they
Would not wish to reign on their mediocrity
But hey! The truth is that they are they
Meant to gather hey
And I am me
Moulded to be the prince
What’s a future king without a kingdom to inherit?

Unbeknownst to their conscience
Tomorrow they shall serve me

Whereas they toil for today only
I build an inheritance for eternity
I scratch a mark in the plaque of history
Here today, forever remembered 
As for them, here today, 
Tomorrow as insignificant as though they never were

So please by all means
Let them laugh at me
It’s the noise a prince must perceive
In his grooming to be king
Perhaps it will make me understand
Why there are a million subjects to one prince

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Domestics - blue berry pancake

Simmering,hot, pancakes, flushed.
Battered, beating, bruised,
Syrup, sweet, melted, dripping, 

Brown now, peeling, ripping 
Dark berries, smashed oozing bluish - black red,
Hands and words tossed instead,

Pancake Burnt! Pancake dead!

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Same Time, Same Place...

Same time
Same place
Different color
Of the face

Same K-12 system
Same university
Different college
Who gained 
More knowledge?
Who excelled?
Who got more hell?

Same job
Same school
Same students
Same certification
Different degrees

Who stayed 
On their knees?
Both of us
Yes, indeed.
Who achieved
Well let’s see!

Same time
Same place
Different color
Of the face
I made it 
By God’s grace
You are 
A Satanic disgrace.

You are the
Face of hateful
I settle for
None of your
Fallacious foolishness
And malicious mediocrity.

Same hometown
I keep it real
You a damn clown
God’s giving you 
A furious frown

A lazy witch
Probably born rich
Living in the sticks
Killing nature’s beauty
Just to get away
From people like me
An earth killer
Fake teacher
And destiny stealer
A true thriller
Makin fake scrilla

I worked hard
While you pressed bricks
Storing awful ATP
To make sure
You got the best of me
And people from my 

My adenosine triphosphate (ATP)
From glycolysis in my body
After Krebs cycle
Gives off love
While yours come
From hate
We’ve had the same bodily
Processes similar chemical makeup
I just have more melanin
You act the way you act 
Because of your grandfather’s mistakes

 I hate to see your fate 
If you don’t change
You are devilish
And deranged
I know your game
Your name
We’re from the same turf
You and I 
Are carbon based products
One tries hard daily to be just
So that when the minister
Says ashes to ashes
And dust to dust
That I get the reward
I deserve
You got my reward
I still work hard
Detests the enemy

It ain’t fair 
That we walked in the same place
Respect you received
And hate slapped me in the face
Walking around with on your face
Did a dissertation on me
If I looked like you 
With my knowledge 
At 23 I would have had
Ten PhD’s.

Girl please you got the nasty woman disease
Get on your knees for the right reas’
Pray to us Jes’
Save me from being a real bigot
And sometimes on the sly
Help me to love you
And all your creatures
And accept diversity

You need help with that dirty blond hair
Pony tails sticking in the air
Depicting your true savior 
Not mine that will catch the one’s
That are still alive and in Him 
Up in the midair.

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Working in a Factory of Words n Poetry Soup is the Hub

A hub stays put
But around it the wheel rolls
A hub only feels the weight of the load on the road
But the wheel rubs on the surface of it all

In mud, on dirt, on tar
The wheel is not afraid to roll for it fits within its purpose
The hub always stays put in the middle of the wheel
But with it everywhere it goes

Poetry soup is the hub
And around it like a wheel I’m gonna roll
Sometimes the surface maybe on a tarmac so smooth
Sometimes I may wade through mud so sticky and deep 
Sometimes I may leave so much dust rising on my trail
But an artist is all I am
A creature of emotions working shifts in the factory of words

Mine is just to pack
The emotions endeared to me in the wrappers of words
Each day different from the one gone past
Sometimes it’s heaven is on a roll
Sometimes it’s hell in a storm
But being the servant I am 
My position at the factory
Impels me to wrap it all in the assembly line of words

So please understand
Don’t blame the packer working shifts in the factory of words
Blame the company for producing all the sincere stuff

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A Silver Fluidity, stronger than time Crystal shatters against me, in my prime I’m bulletproof, and echoes rebound Piercing ricochet’s, transmitting the sound I fell from Heaven, fast and strong Into a world, endangered by wrong I wasn’t a hero, just a moment of love A second chance for humanity, sent from above I’m a legend, a titan of Greek mythology The body of an Adonis, the dream of muscology I defend the greater good, and eliminate the hate My methods far from clean cut, they’re an ethical debate I was born Titanium, with a sword in hand I can manipulate thunder, with a wave of my hand I am Titanium, and the overlord is my enemy The creator of greed, money and the impecunious amenity

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wonder why

i wonder, how thy earth moves
i wonder how, man decides the meaning of marriage 

is it not bound by force, is it not a core of constant acceleration, 9.8 meters per second 
is it bound by the imaginary book of rules, is it not based on core of trust, honesty, love

why shall you stay quiet in front of a lion, but behind, you fight, a fight worthy of an sultan
you lash, and spread as a cobra, but afaced with the "enemy" you are nothing more than a domestic pet!!!!!!!

then in all, my dear sir, shall you answer thy question

why must you decide the fate of marriage

is it wrong, to marry the one you love, besides the boundary of gender 
is it wrong, dear sir, is it 
that you must decide thy fate of marriage
freedom is prosperous, freedom is not limited!!!!   

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My World

My world has always been a world of eternal dusk not so dark I could not see but not light enough to see more then a foot in front of me. There are other people in this world I can just barely see them. They are transparent just outlines of people when I watch them move it seems like the air around them is honey they move so slow. I have screamed at them them but they seem unable to hear or see me and I pass right through them If I reach for them. As the years have gone by I have grown to realize that they are not just outlines but I'm the one who is not fully here. This is how I have been living my life as an outline and as the years kept passing I found myself becoming less and less of what I was,slowly began to lose my mind. No longer trying to get people to see me or hear me I have been walking up and down the same road mumbling to myself for the past 10 years. But a week ago a light appeared just a dim light far off into the distance but a light none the less. I have been slowly drawn to this light ever since. It's still so far away but I have begone to hear a soft female voice calling to me. But I'm fading so fast I am trying with everything I have left to reach that light and find where the voice is coming from.

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Racial hypocrisy rages hidden quietly behind smiles and well scripted chat. Listening 
for the angry sounds of discord, waiting to ignite and explode.
What emerges is the horror of true self, the raw unbridled feelings of narrow-
White against black, black against yellow and yellow against red. 
Why must we reinforce hate into each generations head? Aliens to truth we each 
abide with the thought that our kind is superior to the rest.
The heresy of such hypocrisy of this planetary audience is that we each are to 
blame for the lack of change.
 If we learn to live and except our fellow man and stop judging by the color of our 
neighbors face, then and only then may we acquire the title  “The Human Race”!

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Elusive Graspings For Happiness

Trying so hard to see the good in humankind, 

Just praying for that butterfly's fervent caress 

Disappointed again and again and feeling so blind, 

Sadness is but a blink away from life's true joy 

The pathetic thing is others need love as much as you, 

So many you've trusted have treated you just like a toy 

Yet deep seeded hatred is so hard to see through, 

Remember compassion can help to clear one's mind 

It takes every ounce of faith to avoid the valley of the blue, 

We must help each other or paradise we'll never find

Copyright © 2014 Robert William Gruhn - All Rights Reserved

"A poem to me is the essence of any thought,
Being built from its foundation into tower scraping sky.
It can fly like no other bird to places never seen,
Even spaceships can only dream of taking its place."

© 2014 Robert William Gruhn

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temptation of st. anthony

st. anthony,the patron saint of travelars and the return of things lost or stolen,
is more about our soul being and our souls quest.we are all travelars in this 
world,our true quest is our souls journey.along the way,it's possible to become 
lost or a certain sense of wandering,not knowing for sure what it is we are feeling,
but at times that inner feeling can seem more real than our perceptive reality.
the minor detours and distractions along the way are designed to influence 
moments of giving up hope and losing faith.a negative force with only one 
purpose,their "sole"purpose is to steal our "soul"purpose and to mislead and 
distract us into losing our focus of direction,'s reference to lost or 
stolen things has nothing to do with material wealth,material wealth is but that 
classic carrot dangling on a stick which we'll never reach,designed only to create 
seperation of self,like a wedge.part of st. anthony's creed is, "while treasures lost 
are found again " about the true gold ,the true wealth within' , the golden 
key neccesary for our approach to the golden gate.

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A Rainbow Race

Once upon a time, I ask my mother; 
Mama, why are the Black People 
so different, and why are there 
so many different shades of color
in our people

Mama replied; Boy, do you 
know that Black Folks 
are a Rainbow Race

Then a smile glowed 
as bright as the mourning sun 
across my brown chocolate face

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Whispers Through Head

Softly, mysteriously, it will appear Curtain thine yese if though are to adhere It is part of the role to be in fear Just do not try to be a seer Listen in close Otherwise be morose To believe thou need not see Inner vision is the key I wandered to a spring... After the vision and hearing of my final fling I started to reconcile and think Since, I have been left long a drink Abrupt! The spiders caught a butterfly Engulf in fear, stuck in the sky Snatched in flight, when it was high Time of night and death is nigh Hearken ! A faint heavy whisper 'Tis the shepherd or the reaper? If I listen... will it lead to my damnation with glee? Could it give me my desire of being free? Would iI conceive an ambition... spiraling in the fire? Or finally my heart, would I aspire? Heed for words for words... don't be scared! Keep them cclose... don't be dared.. Opened!, as if i don't care, The whisper vanished in the air? Again... I could not cross into the streamline... For there was another time I chose not to shine. I am stuck... in the sky, And my life is dry

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Sam, I am

If I had a secret that I wanted to share with you Dare you open your mind and let my creativity ensue? I don’t build bridges with bricks, I hang them with rope I can generate your fantasies and incubate your hope Open the pages of my mind, reading the fiery words of my heart Enter Pandora’s Box, and the epic journey will start! Follow me down south, through the mirror of liquid glass You’ll feel the calmness take over and watch the fear pass What a wonderful feeling, letting your inhibitions go into the night Now step forward onto the phoenix, as you drift into the light This journey isn’t everlasting, you know that it comes with a price? What? Did you think it was free? wouldn't that have been nice Open your eyes from delusion, and friend you will piece things together My name is Sam, Satan or The devil, that’s how I'll been known as forever! OK, so I tricked you, with my words and devilish charm What were you expecting? I’m frigging Satan dude, my job is sadistic harm! You look at me with those puppy dog eyes, you realise you've lost all of your family ties My head tells me to give you a second chance, double or quits is where my desire lies Do you accept the new twist, on my board game that is your life? I’ll take that hesitant nod as a yes, and commence this game of strife Give me the name of a family member and they can take your place However I will warn you, if you can’t then I win this twisted race No! You scream, and that’s your final answer which I’ll have to take Now I own not only your soul, but your families when they next shall wake He took my hand and promised peace for my sisters and brothers Now I’ve gambled with the devil and he owns my beloved others The deal is now done and a fiery rain begins to fall Burning me down to ash, disintegrating my world and all

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The Poets Dance

Paint pots and magic at the stroke of a brush, it’s the power of a picture for the lovers in lust. The splashing of water and addition of choice, it’s a musician’s beat, and the poets to rejoice. Hungary caterpillars and the ladybugs dance, it’s nature’s festival and the Devil’s mischance. The warmth of summer’s night amongst a starry sky, it’s the sparkle of lanterns drifting up to Shanghai. The poets and the dreamers smear ink to the page, it’s lyrical fluidity entwining a white witch’s sage. The smells and the colours are a carnival of love, it’s the power of family, drawing joyous tears up above. Live in these moments and build memories to keep, it’s time for our picture before we lose it to sleep. So take my hand as we enter the tent to the light, it’s an entrance to happiness and it’s just to your right.

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She Has A Big Heart

Her heart is so big, her love is so strong
Most of her life, she has been treated wrong
She has so much love, so much to give
Sometimes it took all she had just to live
What in the world did she do to deserve
All the pain that's been forced upon her
She's worked so hard to do everything right
But, when she'd least expect it, there would be another fight
For days she would hurt and walk around crying
If she told anyone, they'd think she was lying
How could this life of hers be so unfair?
Is it too much to ask just for someone to care?
It caused me such heartache to see all of her pain
All the times she was hurt, it was done in vain
Such a wonderful person with all of this love
Deserves more than anyone that I can think of
I'll always be thankful for all that she’s done
I love her unconditionally, unlike anyone
Who is this woman with such a big heart?
She's the beautiful woman who gave me my start
She's very special; she's one of a kind
She's like a rare diamond that most never find
She's my best friend, she's my Mother
I hope she knows how much I love her

Copyright © 2000   Shari E Davis

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alchemic gold within'

the sun rises and casts it's light on earth, as the sun sets, the moon appears
to cast it's shadow of darkness, with the exception of the sun reflecting it's light on 
the surface of the moon. now.........if our spiritual light has descended into matter,
our physical being, being a shadow of our spiritual self, then like the moon, in a 
sense, everything in front of us is a reflection of our spiritual self as our physical 
is a shadow of our spiritual, like the sun and the moon.
the light of the sun never sets, it only seems to set as it rises on the other half of 
the world, the moon appears to remind us of that as it casts the reflection of the 
suns light. the setting sun is like the descending of spiritual light into matter, our
physical being, like the moon, is a continuous reflection of that light, the sun never 
truly leaves us, as our spiritual light never truly leaves.
alchemy of time isn’t about turning lead into gold, it’s about the evolution of 
consciousness and the golden properties of the higher self.
what physical property on earth radiates like the sun?...uranium...and as this 
compound loses it's element of radiation, what happens? becomes lead...
in other words, as we continue to reach for the gold outside our physical nature,
we neglect the inner spiritual nature, eventually, possibly, become as lead also.
who we are inside, consciously, is what is reflected back to us, our attitude and 
personal growth becomes our perception and projection of the physical world.
our eye's are mirrors of the soul, projecting the spiritual light within', reflecting 
back the love shared. it all begins within', from original thought to intended action.
it's all about one basic principal, unconditional love, because love encompasses 
all; love conquers all. if our relationship with the divine will is strong, our outer 
relationship in accordance to all in nature is strong also. as Jesus Christ said,
" love thy neighbor as thy self "..........respect and understanding.

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Don't Tell

A cold drop of rainwater fell on my eye,
          Awakening me from a deep sleep;
I felt queer:
              "Hope my freckles haven't faded,
For summer's come and gone;
                     Today is cleaning day...
                   I turned on John Mellencamp,
And washed my walls which
                       Were painted antique white;
After rearranging my furniture,
             I placed on my brass bed, a new
Ensemble of white satin ~ oh, so gentle;
   "I really hope my freckles haven't faded,
For summer has come and gone;"
        I carefully washed my window till it...
Then stood for a long while;
        I removed my oversized flannel shirt,
and felt the sun's warmth on my breasts;
"Perhaps my freckles faded but little;"
Upon buttoning my shirt, I hung exquisite
              White satin curtains that brushed
                                       The floor;
Candles of violet, light blue and white
Were placed randomly throughout,
Just prior to polishing the sturdy oak floor;
       Finishing touch...a crystal chandelier...
Heroic...Hanging from my ceiling...
          I stood in admiration...observing the 
Magical sun dancing in hues of red, violet
                                 And blue;
As I showered, the warm water enchanted
My slender soul;
             Never before had I felt so peaceful;
As I slowly massaged my thighs with
     Vanilla cream, I observed that freckles 
Yet coveted my nose...bosom...legs...
    Summer embraced my waist and softly
          Whispered the secret into my ear...
I proceeded downstairs, poured a glass
                 Of wine, then...

              I politely asked my lover to leave.

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The Origin of Democracy

The council sits around the bend,
Covered by their hoods,
Under stars that hear their words,
So secret in the woods.

Sages hidden from the world,
Those gurus of the creed,
Mapping out the way of life
They think the rest should lead.

But then a question rises.

"Evidence is for believers,
Not the other guys.
So how can we present a case
To apathetic eyes?"

The master asked his fellow men,
But they could not reply.
So then the asker laid his head
And gave a heavy sigh.

"There's got to be a stepping stone,"
Another person said.
"We can't just let them give it up
And leave them out for dead."

A throat is cleared.

"Why not let them choose a path?"
So said a stranger's voice.
"After all, it is their life,
So they should have the choice." 

"He's right, you know. He's got a point."
Another member cried.
"A violation, it would be,
To not let them decide."

A lowly mumble slowly crept
And hovered in the crowd.
But that what started out so low
Was then becoming loud.

The gavel pound against the block.
"Order in my court!
It appears that we have reached
A ruling of a sort."

"Make this statement known to men,
And let it be agreed:
That men shall have the right to live
The life they want to lead."

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Billy Bo Bob

Billy Bo Bob, woodsman his job
Was a hunter of faded flannel flair
He whittled wood with two left feet
And used Quaker State in his hair
He picked his teeth with a straw of hay
And slept between the bales 
But never missed a sunrise sing
Because his wall was driven by nails
Born in the backwoods, a man’s frontier
Where the only trails were fear
Billy trapped bears as he wrestled gators
And swiped jerky from passing deer  
With his snakeskin boots striking roots
He could outrun the whirl of whistling trees
Until one day he fell from sight
As a rogue breeze knocked him to his knees
Billy shielded his eyes and squinted at the sky
Thinking God had unleashed his wrath
When low and behold, armed with a bow 
Something cute and fuzzy stood in his path 
Now Billy wasn’t dumb, just a special type of conundrum
For he could neither read nor write
But he'd be damned if a furry little fox, no bigger than a box
Would leave him in an unfettered fright
Before Billy could breathe…beg, plea, or somehow flee
That cute and fuzzy fox shot him in the most fleshy of spots
With an arrow forged from the crow of a unemployed cock
Billy shouted in wretched pain, as he came up lame
Wondering how in the hell this could be the end
When speaking for men, quoting his favorite hen
The fox hungrily quipped, “Who needs civilized friends?”

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I’ve heard this many times before
But this time, my ears struck twelve
Heartbeats of life pace more and more
In sync with all that scratch and quell
While counting ticks on outlawed tunes
A solo, but oh, so off key
The cords of life anchored in June
The metronome of time in me
With passing phases of the moon
Accustomed to a self taught fate
Sheltered in my private cocoon
More room to grow and hibernate
In meditating out of sight
A healthy way for me to explore
Before I step out into the light
Before I look down upon the unsure
Such is the soaring Phoenix way
A merger of the heart and sun
To rise with burning passion each day
And brighten it for that special someone

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The Journey to Tomorrow

They said the sun would always, rise up when it has set yet, the shadows of the night just seem to grow. My footprints keep on writing, they tell the tale that’s passing, but the storyline just seems to flow. They said the journey was safe, I lace my way through danger, this was not the way it was meant to go. I worked my way through forests, climbing up the hills of Dante, and my inferno was the snow. Suddenly the snow was melting, spreading out to a horizon, the valley of the flowers began to glow. Behind I heard the screaming, in front I saw the colours, my final choice was which way to go.....

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A Narrowed Soul

Tonight I grow tired of keeping the secrets that were spark within my visions.  I 
must tell someone of what I saw and how the end came to be.  From the 
beginning we never understood how the human spirit came to be and the 
common thread of existence that bounds us like a string of beads waiting to go 
around the infinite loop of our universe.  Changes have come and gone and yet 
my memories do not change.  I saw the beginning and I saw the end but yet I 
live.  Why?  I remember seeing so many things.  I felt the fabric of everyone I ever 
knew intertwined within my every breath.   It was like we were machines.  As they 
say we were someone’s eyes and ears to a world that was going to end.  We 
collected as much data as we could before the end.  I am not sure if they know 
how much data I retained from these ordeals.  And maybe they know exactly and I 
am here because of it still.  But why?  I was taken through worlds that made no 
sense.  Worlds that were chaotic with no remorse.  I feared what I saw and 
asked my almighty GOD to help me overcome.  My children how I love them so.  
My daughter she was with me in my journey.  She is my life and what I believe 
has helped me make sense of everything that has and is happening.  Where am 
I?  Is this my world?  Is this the world that has become or just another vision.  
Someone’s idea of living.  Who would do this to a man?  I lost every connection 
to my existence, who I thought were my friends and family were only decoys of 
someone’s sentence.  Why? What do they hope to gain?  Am I lost in my mind?  
Is what I thought to be my reality a dream or a memory, am I blind.  Once I 
remember what it felt like to live with no fear.  To know that tomorrow you will get 
up and everything would be as it was and still here.  Unchanged and forgiving.  
How these things have change me!  How these things have narrowed my loving 
soul.  But I still hold the greatest love for my GOD.  If it wasn't’t for his helping 
hand reaching down and pulling me from the depths of the great beyond, I would 
have never been able to tell you this story.  We need to love life once again.  We 
need to go back to the basics my friend.  Is it too late?  Has the human race 
dwindled to the point that we must visit our past to fix our future?  The messages 
are clear, listen closely and you will hear.  Look even closer and you will see that 
we must never lose site of what it means to live.  This babble means nothing to 
who ever reads it but for tonight it will help me sleep.  Good night.

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Square pegs for round holes

One thing, I've come to realise
to some this may come as a surprise
Realities a big bunch of lies
see for yourselves, open your eyes!
We've all slept for far too long
allowed way too many wrong
lost amid the maddening throng
not quite square, more oblong
a mirrored distortion of how we coud look
hiding how we really should look
I'm not sure how it was lost, or why it was took
but, our compassions been sold for gold
an' truths been traded for lies bought and sold
Sheople walk around like one big stupid herd
Money, Religion and Terror seem to be the keyword
That stops humanities caring message from being heard.

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Wedded to the past

The iconography of childhood gives more vivid memories,
like an inward looking that draws to depth and human connections;
those relationships with family members, friends, and relations
the best of times and known to be the memorable years gone by.

To stir the pot and get myself riled up about human depth –
in many areas of concern and struggles to cope with life,
a culture of love gets developed and rolls through the years;
a dependable compass, an anchor that assures great strength.

It’s the habit of my mind and heart that keeps me growing
immersing constantly in the ordinariness of my routines;
form certain messages that shape my choices and decisions;
elsewhere in the context that brings me to embrace what life really is.

Perhaps it’s good to connect the wisdom of the past to present situation;
there’s complimentarity of actions with vision and interior inspiration
yes, with sense of connection and willingness to proclamation;
God, indeed, makes the experience worth thinking and sharing.

The crucible of commitment to the values of God’s kingdom,
reflects my interior disposition to enhance them through actions;
with endless thinking, meditating and ruminating the Sacred Scriptures,
can crown the heart that speaks volumes about dedication to my vocation.

There’s still the umbilical cord of my calling since childhood,
the ‘yes’ to God, the source and author of my priestly life;
with a great deal about ‘how I live and live out of my love,
like a climate change, a moral wavelength wedded to my calling.

Truly, it’s a never ending affair with God in many contexts,
amid the advancing forces of secularism and modernity;
not an easy world to live with; a real challenge with strident voices,
with so many meanings and understandings as life unfolds.

To find the language which describes mobility in my spirituality,
a point in time which braces for my daily encounter with God;
his mysterious signs and wonders that make me walk with him,
in worship and service to Jesus Christ, the Good Shepherd.

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life begins

so the "majority" resound
that life begins at birth
and equally, the other "majority"
state life begins at conception

Senator Connie Johnson chimes in 
that life begins at ejaculation
or more equally, orgasm, a come-along
and tongue-in-cheek we hardly speak
in compromising tones, she bemoans

I'm thinkin' why not go the extra mile
...take the next step and say that 
life begins at a leer and a smile
since that's where the cheeks flush

or go just a bit further and say
it starts by the hall water fountain
or while showering and dressing up
for an evening of conceptualizing

life takes on special significance
when spritzing the cologne and
slipping into something tight
with high-heels and zippers

but since we're talking about
conception, maybe we should just
go back to the ceiling of the
Sistine Chapel where God touched Adam 

and said "ok young man...go forth
and conceptualize a civilization
and do many things in my name
but mostly remember to live life"

© Goode Guy 2012-02-24

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The Great Mystery On The Journey Of Life

With life, there are many challenges; we are faced with new ones everyday
Sometimes we do not understand why we must struggle so
But with each new day, an answer will come
We must learn to seek out the path that will lead us
To a new and challenging future
We do not ask for pain nor do we ask for difficulty
Yet, daily we must face these trying times in our lives
We shall encompass days that will make us feel unworthy
We must look for strength from within ourselves and from within others
To enable us to push forward to reach the dawn of a new day
To embrace the dark sky of a new night
People from all walks of life will come and go in our lifetime
They are on their own journey; we are all merely passersby
A spectacle on the surface of each other’s lives
We are each here to help one another get from this point to the next
From this world to the next
What purpose do we really serve here upon this earth?
Do we want to know?
For now we just keep moving on, going from day to day
Wondering what new adventures we will embark upon each day
Remember those you meet, for someday, as time does pass
We will look back at our lives on earth
Once we have moved on, to the Great Life beyond
And we will think of those who were in our lives
The people that made a difference, no matter if it were great or small
Some little gesture of kindness meant to help us on our way
Before we reach our final destination
The reasons for the kindness that was shown
May not be known to us now, but someday it will be
We will face those greatest challenges with the strength and wisdom
We sought after for so long, all because someone else cared
Maybe a stranger, maybe a friend
Just simple kindness, a gesture of good faith
Love shared from the heart from one person to another
The compassion we show one another, may be the key that unlocks
The Great Mystery on the Journey of Life

Copyright © 2002   Shari E Davis

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Fight for Freedom

Fight for what is right
and our freedom…

No dictators or magistrates,
just simple democracy, the 
spirit of the people…

For freedom is priceless 
and nothing quite compares…

We must all fight for the 
right to be free, to protect 
and keep it, for us our children, 
there children and all the 
generations to come…

Fight to protect our freedom
to the end, for freedom is
worth a fight…

By Sandra L. Hoban

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The Sharks and the Baracudas

One calm summer night
I visited the city aquarium and
I noticed the sharks and the barracudas
Playing a lovely game of tennis
Yeah, the sharks and
The Barracudas are just
Sitting around eating
Strawberries and drinking tea
How could this be?
The great white shark called out, "the surf is up!" and
The speedy barracuda replied, "fifteen luv!"
How could this be?
Suddenly, the sharks and the barracudas
Noticed me standing there, and
Standing on the other side
Well, they all agreed,
If you want to learn how to swim with
The sharks and the barracudas,
First, you must learn how to play the game!

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A matter of attitude

Some instances reveal who we are;
in situations where problems are. 
Hard to be kind, unable to stand
and promise to say we'll be all right.

  Conflicts and other forms of misunderstanding
  can generate separation or conflict of cultures.
  It's a way to keep us drawn to certain thoughts
  That enable us to figure out what to do.

Sadness emerges and afflicts our hearts,
its power reveals to clothe us with weakness
its consequence makes us look beyond,
what’s inside that needs to find its light.

  Reactions vary in our mood swings;
  they imply certain degrees of pain.
  on human level where we're immersed
  it's openness and a test of patience.

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From My History to Your Future

My thoughts linger in the bleak expanse that surrounds my disembodied conscious and  not even the pulsing epiphanies (a million lifetimes away) can bring light to the horrific darkness embedded in the remnant matter of this repented skeptic. 

As the winds once shifted on the golden plains of grains horded for profit and power, so to did the opinions of laypeople and professional swirl around this once complacent arrogant mind too enamored with the process of living to notice the force of life rapidly receding like a cool drink carelessly spilled on a hot surface evaporating before the instinct to lap it up was unleashed.
Now, darkness brings light and clarity to seek out those who are groping in their own brilliance. Descending down on the sea of life hoping to light onto the thoughts of one who will not suppose nature and God are enemies, while science sits adrift in a raft with room for one, watching the worthy vessel with its unworthy passengers rock to and fro unaware of the great fall just ahead. And in the abyss finned creatures too intelligent for their own good helplessly watch because they have no hands to take the helm. 

The wings fluttering above are just as useless, and back on shore the other passengers of the original ark wonder why the misguided stewards bothered saving them in the first place.

But if I could find a mind like a fresh flower obedient and open to receive this
pollinating knowledge, it might be enough to propagate the species of thought that will save billions of embodied cognitive factories from the impotent byproducts of denial: procrastination and the convenience of inconvenience.

Even now I observe changes in the political and environmental climate, and hope my
thoughts have not taken too long to drift from my history to your future.

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God or Gods

God Made Man 
Man Made Gods 

Yes My Lord 

Thou Only Made 
Adam and Eve 

See, how many,
he has made of Thee 

Thou banished and 
Threw him out of Eden 

Roaming Aimlessly 
he became a Heathen, 

Angered further, 
Thou scattered him, 

Drove him in 
different directions 

Changing his colors, 
even his speech 

Making Thyself 
further out of reach 

So scared was he, 
that he made a God 

Every direction he went 
he made a God 

In Every Language 
he made a God

He made a God of  Gold
He made a God of Silver

He made a God of  wood
He made a God on Paper

He drew thee on the walls
He carved thee on the rocks

Made mountains of Gods
Made rivers into Gods 

No matter his 
color or creed , 

He made a God
He made a God
He made a God

So where is
He at fault, 

O My Lord, 

Thou Only Made
 Adam and Eve 

See, how many, he 
Has made of Thee 

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A Plea to Infinity

The Infinite Mind of all eternity
In all your wisdom you decided reality to have me
Of all I know about you, profit is supreme
Please help me succeed too in securing my dreams
For it falls within the functions you purposed in me
Moreover, me being a product of thee
Means embedded in me are the elements of supreme skills
Designed to succeed in the highest scale of reality

The infinite mind of all eternity
Everything about me reflects the virtues of thee
My bodily beings daily grow and my heart never stops
Most times I’m all alone but I always feel You around 
Perhaps it may be that if I call upon thee
The wisdom of how to carry my burdens with ease
	...will be revealed to me
Oh, how I wish this weight on my back would turn into wings
	...and fly me far and fast, to the lands of appreciation and rewards
Away from the dreadful past stuck right at my back

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Mirror, mirror on the wall, Katrina is the most beautiful of all. Katrina is the mistress
of the glass moon. Hurricane Katrina moves like a great Olympian ice skater, performing
the triple axle. She swirled death and destruction across the New Orleans Delta. 

The eyes of Katrina unveiled an unjust poverty that smells like a dead corpse buried
beneath the foundation of our democracy. How can a Christian Nation who preaches God's
Word be so cruel to his follow man? We are all God's children.

Americans of African descent sacrificed their blood, sweat and tears, in building the
richest nation in the world. People of Color never received equal compensation for their
slave labor. They never received the promised 40 acres and a mule. 

Lord, why is justice so blind? Where is the home of the brave? Justice falls helpless to
her knees and the glowing light from her touch cannot find the land of the free. Still, at
night, we see the burning stars and the stripes, and all we are asking for is God’s love
and mercy.

America the beautiful, unveiled her torn garment to the world. Meanwhile, the local
newspapers spin fiction into facts. They know how to weave sensational headlines and
photographs for public consumption. Nobody heard the children crying, during the genocide
in Rwanda. 

America the beautiful, the world is watching. America, the beautiful, the world is
waiting. America, the beautiful, the world is listening. The world of humanity will
deliver justice to America, and she will be judge by her deeds.

Remember, a divided nation cannot stand on broken promises or broken dreams. History
whispered a secret that all great nations must have great falls. America, America, who is
the most beautiful of all?

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In the part tonight 
all the eminent guests arrived
with their best apparels on,
full of illimitable mirth.

The assembly hall danced
with the fragrances of the deodorant;
cheer lightening their faces,
smiles lessening their age
and every new entrant
being treated warmly with a glass of beer.
The ladies,
burdened by the sparkling ornaments, 
smiled with serene indifference.
Creams moistened their dry face,
powder cloaked their bleakness,
lipsticks glossed over their lips
and I watched them all with flaunting dependence.

Before the party could enliven, 
there arrived a weird guest
with rugged palid face,
his clothes torn
through which his emaciated body peeped,
depicting his uncommon penury.
Barefooted he was
with his soul on fire
but how admirable his green eyes were!
Every black eye scanned his features
and followed me,
    scoffing at me,
    demanding the exegesis
             ......those untrained eyes!!

I discovered discoloring faces,
             suffusing sullness,
             questioning wrinkles....
Impertinent remarks echoed
and crannies appeared on the walls.
He said placidly,
     "Sirs, even I've got the invitation card!"
And I saw
all the candles decorated on the banquet-table
pinching out one-by-one
except one
which burnt-
   in profoundity of the darkness.
And then I realised
I had no explanation.

And I was proud of my house,
         my house in the west
       with its facade facing east.

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What is the Measure of Mercy

What is the measure of mercy
It is different in you and me
Only in your heart
The place where mercy starts
You must truly know what it is to repent
In the moments that you’ve spent
Doing wrong by Him
And know it deep within

Mercy is knowledge gained
The message is not in vain
It is the love that you have to give
And the way you choose to live
Are you willing to lend a hand
To all of your fellow man
Do you nurture every little breath
From your very birth to your death
The ability to learn from your mistakes
And the willingness in the chances that you take
Is the answer that comes to me
For what is the measure of mercy

The End
By Greg P

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' Monsters, Among Us ... '

‘ Monsters, Among Us … ’

 Scatter The Creeping Vapor-Stench, Away
  Expose The Wake of  Eerie, Fog and Shadows
And Nightshade and Fiends, and Vile-Beasts That Bay
 Begone, to Taboo, Grounds, Unhallowed …

… for there Are Monsters, Among Us …
Yea, Also An Ancient Curse
We Don’t have To Make This Up …
… to Make It Any Worse …

Yea, There Are Blood Suckers, Self-Styled, Vampires            ( Vlad, The Impaler )
Who’ll Drink Your Blood by Starless, Night
Creatures, Who’ll Make You Suffer Their Desires
and Ghouls, Who’ll Dine On Your Flesh, in Daylight                 ( Jeffrey Dahmer )

Yea, There Are Creatures of The Dark
Who’ll Catch You, If You Do Not Know …                                ( Rapists )
They Want To Get Inside Of Your Heart
And Make You Do Acts, Foul, Fraught with Woes

Yea, There Are Monsters, Among Us …
Merciless, Malevolent, Maniacal Monstrosities …                       ( Hitler )
They Do, Indeed, Want To Own Your Soul, Because                 ( Jim Jones )
They Want To Make You Commit, Their Atrocities ! …               ( Charles Manson )

And If You Walk Around Unwary
Doesn’t Matter, If Its Not, Stroke Of Midnight
… Anytime, Is Their Time, To Do Scary
Spine-Chilling Screams of Your Unending, Pitch-Black Fright …

Rituals To Silver and Golden Idols                                          ( Slaving For Riches)
Making A Virgin Sacrifice -                                                     ( Child Molestation )
Hexes and Voodoo Dolls
and All Such Abominations To The Christ …

… Now, by a Long Shot, I’m Not Pious
(‘Cause I Too, Like A Good Thrill !)
Just, Don’t Make The Mistake-Serious
By Thinking Wickedness, Isn’t Real !

And Humans, Please Be Aware
Evil Incarnate, Isn’t Just A Movie Theme …
It’s More Than Just A Joking Scare
… There ‘ Is’ A Wicked Scheme

(and there ‘Is’ A Wicked Being)

So, If You Find, You’re Chased or Caught
By Some Monster In A Living-Nightmare
Remember, No Potion, Amulet, Nor Incantation Taught 
Brings Almighty Help, Better Than Holy Prayer

Yea, There Are Monsters, Among Us …
Yea … Also, An Ancient Curse
(and We Couldn’t Even Invent The Stuff
to Make It Any Worse ! ) …

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Star star lights
glitter and gleam...nocturne dream
S.A.D.days age quick
Time Square...nostalgic bliss

Time ceased the city's alive 
Six sense corporate media's jive is
pervasive,invasive yet rudely persuasive
aerosol graffiti tagged wall mural ads
modern pollution spawns the clean air movement
terrorist assualts...primetime news
progressive activists protest biased corporate views

Closed eyes...cinematic trance
the worlds inviting at a glance
born and raised by t.v. productions
gurus predict the world's destruction
industrial pollution,high crime,war...atomic solution

My eyes capture Earth's essence,their spirit catchers each moment kept in mind
dreaming of somwhere beyond these confines
yet superficial memories fade with age
expiring like instant pictures
asphault and commercial realestate replace rural vistas

New age renassaince, crazed mystics predict doom,while internet profits boom
misleading mood crystals,biorythmic readings and psychic predictions 
tell vague stories of strangers once statistics
computer system data's erased as if their lives hadn't matterd

"Cinema Nirvana" passes for ancient dharma
their saccarine endings...cinema karma

Surreal retrospection
t.v. and reading magazines once cured my depression
Existentialism's survival wisdom's 
until my mind has matured I'm serving life in an asylum or until cured

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This is it

So the dream is already real
At least the greater part of it
It’s now up to me 
It’s time for me to show what I’m made of
The lights are on me 
The audience of fate and opportunity are waiting 
Will I put on a show
Or will I kill the show

Somehow I have to find a way
To bring all the best that I’ve got in me
Somehow I have to find a way
To bring out the best of me that I’ve always been dreaming to give
The audience is silent
The eyes of criticism are searching me
The eyes of appreciation are waiting to applaud me
Will I impress or will I fail

The anxiety is overwhelming
But still doesn’t change the fact that here I am
Live on the stage of life
Now I must act
…for all have paid to get their worth
I must throw all care to the wind and fit in the cast
The only care I should keep 
…should be of the sequence in the script

So here I go
This is what I’ve been waiting for 
This is what I’ve been yeaning for
This is what I’ve been practicing for 
Now I shall perform for the applause I wish to own
I hope you enjoy the show

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Ben Ja Min

on Jan 17th 1706 Benjamin Franklin was born 
became a printers apprentice 
established the first lending library
was known as an uncommom comman man 
that taught self in science and inventions

Benjamin Franklin 1706-1790

Also Entry For Brian Strand's   Vignette
A Literary Love Affair Contest
         GL All

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It's not until you've tried, you live!

I use to think you’d call or stop by
I use to believe nothing could keep us apart
I always thought you’d be around
I knew my life with you would last
I depended on you needing me

Now you don’t even call me
And I wonder if I ever cross your mind
You put something on me for a thousand life times
Something part of me wishes it never have. love
Though better to have love than not love at all
My heart can’t see passed the pain
Its eyes are cluttered by hurt, fear, desire and pain
Nonetheless, my love grows like a tree with bent limbs
But, my mind knows it’s better to have tried 
Because it’s not until you try that you live!

I long to live through your eyes
I need to live through your cries
I strive to live for you
I use pride to hide my deepest fears
I dare not tell anyone how I really feel

It’s because of you I know how to live
It’s because of the time with you, I’m still here
I never experience real pain until you left
In my mind you’re still here
That day part of me left with you
I still see your shadow, still smell your scent
I’m still reaching out to that gracious part of you
Fighting, broken in pieces 
Part of me wishes I never met you
The other part thanks you
For reminding me
It’s not until you try that you live!

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An ideal state

An ideal state?

The brazen blare of trumpets sounds.
As we approach the temple grounds
the rattling kettle drums compete
 with ominously marching feet.

The people gather here today
 in the old time honoured way. 
To hear our leaders justify
 why they have failed to satisfy.

The peoples wants, the peoples needs.
Explain their actions and their deeds
The leaders have no other choice
 but hearken to the peoples voice.

If they have failed without just cause.
The peoples justice will enforce
 summary execution.
A permanent solution.

  For politicians who have lied
by all their fellows they are tried.
Allowed to mount their own defence
 they must depend on eloquence.

We listen to their argument
 and we consider their intent.
Their motives are what we must judge
This is no time for them to fudge.

They ruled as triumvirate
 and so they must anticipate.
If one is guilty then all three
Will suffer the same penalty.

  If we adjudge them innocent
 by a unanimous consent.
They can retire honourably
having served us honestly.

We the people make the rules
 elect the leaders as our tools.
To do as we instruct them to
They do not rule the peopled do.

If we decide they are corrupt.
The peoples anger will erupt.
For them there can be no appeal
 it was their choice to cheat and steal.

An object lesson plain to see
for those who aspire to be.
Part of the next triumvirate
Chosen to serve our city state.

Ours is a true democracy 
where every citizen is free.
 To stand for office or refrain.
 Those who have served may serve again.

But every two years they must face
 the peoples judgement of their case.
Honest men need have no fear
 dishonest men just disappear.

Stripped of  all their ill gotten wealth 
 which they aquired by craft and stealth.
They pay the final penalty
 they’re put to death immediately.

The peoples will is sovereign
Offenders will not sin again
This is a dream I’m sad to say
 and not true of our world today.

Today our world is ruled by greed.
Use any method to succeed.
 rewarded for dishonesty.
The people pay the penalty.



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The Might Of A Man...

The Strength of A Man
… is in His Eyes and Arms
And in His Harvest hands
… to Hope, Heal, or Harm

… Look into His Eyes and See The Storm
Will You Be Safe… in Sinew-Arms?
He Can Use His Hands to Help His Girl
But He’s Used This Strength to Harm The World…

The Power of A Man
Is in His Legs and Loins
In His Tongue to Command
And The Seed in His Groin

Every Woman On Earth, Has Felt Man’s Pulse
Or Pleasure – Pain…One Way or Another - Push!... Push!
Do What He Says, to Pull The Pressure
… He’s Pouring Passion, into His Pasture

The Force of A Man
Shows in His Face
The Way, He Walks or Stands
In The Human Race

He’s A Walking, Breathing, Forest-Fire
He’ll Burn You Up… with His Desire
See, The Way His Veins-Pop… Stands Out…
If A Tree  is Torn Down… Better ‘T I M B E R’ Shout !...

But The Might of A Man
Is in His Heart to Love;
And Mind, to Understand
The Higher Chamber Above…

With Spirit, Flesh, Blood, Bone
Might, Power, Force, Strength
… and A Woman, to Help Man Put On…
Some Breadth, Height, Depth and Width…

The Marvelous Might Of A Man

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Freelance Contractor

Freelance contractor

I’ve been a ghost for centuries.
Qualified by experience.
No diplomas or degrees
 but plenty of self confidence.

  Although I died quite suddenly.
Beheading does not take too long
I just accepted readily
the choice of sides I made was wrong.

I lived my life as best I could
 like other men I made mistakes.
 And did not do the things I should
 One wrong decision all it takes.

 Although a failure as a man.
 I am a most successful ghost
 I do the very best I can
 Although I am not one to boast.

I take a pride in what I do
 I can appear and disappear
(I’m one of the accomplished few)
 to fill a humans heart with fear.

I’ve haunted stately homes with pride
I’ve walked abroad without my head
Through solid walls I quickly glide
 I am enjoying being dead.

Alive I earned but small respect
 in fact nobody noticed me.
But now in my ghostly aspect.
 I’m treated most respectfully. 

 Some day I know I must move on
 but I can feel no urgency.
Although my dearest friends have gone.
 A ghost is all I want to be.

I’ve been a ghost for centuries.
I find it suits me very well.
I do exactly as I please
The skills I have I freely sell.


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carnal sin , elemental

    " The spirit is strong ; but the flesh is weak...."  matt 26:41.....

             Is there a way to define , carnal , and the elemental properties of sin ?

If you look at the greek word , " syn " , ( sin ) , meaning , ' together ' , and the greek 
word , ' apsis ' , meaning , ' a joining ' , you arrive at the word , ' synapes ' , which 
is a joining together the space between nerve cells through which nerve 
impulses are transmitted . A neurotransmitter is a biological substance that 
transmits , or inhibits , a nerve impulse at a synapse . A neural is of a nerve or 
the nervous system , a neuron is the nerve cell body and all it's processes . 
Matter , is what a thing is made of , material , whatever occupies space and is 
perceptible to the senses ; percieve is to understand , to become aware of 
through senses . Material , of matter , physical , of the body or bodily needs , not 
spiritual . Important essentials made of elements or parts needed to make or do 
something . Elements , is the natural or suitable environment for a person or 
thing ; first principals , or primal natural forces , being an essential part or parts . 
Elementary particles , are subatomic particles as a neutron , electron , photon , 
and so on etc...........We are a product of our environment , what we eat , the air we 
breathe , and the elemental attraction or repulsion , originating from attitude , it all 
begins within'...............
                                 SYN , or sin , is to join the outer physical body with outer 
physical elements which is the cause to effect carnal sin , through the influences 
of cosmic , universal , energy forces , which are elemental properties that 
manipulate our nervous system..............again as in the beginning.................

                    " THE SPIRIT IS STRONG , BUT THE FLESH IS WEAK "
                                                 matt 26:41

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389 Causality : part 1

One autumn's morning I headed outside for a walk
The road was long and the day
Within the comforts of tantalizing tease
I, myself was settled within my mind
Taking in the day, the beauty
Even the mechanics of all things
Working in unison to form a collective of unity
The road lead far through the wood
Spanning a great deal of meadows and trees
Rivers and streams and field after field
Of wild flowers and daffodils.
   Day after day I'd take this walk
And every day it touches me the same
The familiar breeze to finger through my hair
The shimmering ripples on the rivers face
Play like the fireflies of twilight
However, today has become different than all the others
Today I find myself standing with indecision
Usually I would have turned back miles ago
Yet for some reason today, I felt compelled
To continue and now I stand before a split in the road
To my left I see normality and all things familiar
Continuing into infinite existence
Where to my right I see causality and all things unknown
Yet I could see the end and at that point stood a door
Alone amidst the solitude of new things.
   I found myself with pause, uneasy to continue
I was unprepared for this decision and unwilling
To choose either
Just then another person approached, stopped
Looked at both roads and continued on the road of normality
I stood here for hours within the ponderance of my indecision
As the time passed I witnessed more and more people
Coming and continuing down the road of normality
I then decided to follow in the footsteps of others
Everything here was familiar, nothing new
With all the comforts of knowing what was to come
However, I soon came to realize some intriguing facts
No one here was of their own, all of us on this road
Was of one mind, everything known, nothing new
Slaves to normality. Individuality?
There was none
We were all compelled to be the same
Any deviance from the norm was illness, anarchy and treason
Being here is like not existing
Suddenly there were others gathered around me
I was given the impression I was not alone in my thoughts
Of difference till one spoke out from the crowd
"You are ill and must be treated"
By: Darren J McMurray
    January 23, 2012

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the world tree

the tree represents the center of the world,
connecting the heavens to the earth...
the roots of the tree hold the earth,
the branches hold the sky...
heaven and hell are the sea and the sky,
and you are the horizon........

......where the great estuary of eternal life merge , as the holy water's of earth flow
to meet and be greeted by the holy water's of heaven . the world tree serves as a
conduit to all life on earth , as the roots of the tree recieve it's messages from the 
creator using the branches ; as above , so below....the horizon is consciousness,
consciousness is but a thin thread of heaven and hell's seperation .
the trunk of the world tree represents the spinal cord of the living , the branches
 represent the universal mind , the roots represent our relationship to all of 
creation . the allegorical use of the spider web represents the connectivity of all 
life on earth ; " what we do to the web , we do to ourselves ...." 
the philosophy and cosmology of the east and west meet to form unity as one 
world mind ; where we stand now is atop humankinds creation , one immense 
land mine. 
we all have a long , difficult journey ahead of us....may we all be blessed with the 
fortitude to persevere......

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Stones in the Wall

Of many, the stones in the wall have different sizes with different shapes. 
So many there are and each specific with their very own color.
The wall is long with the many miles of stone that support it and strengthen.
What a vision to see a wall that long, because of the many miles this wall has made.
Built stone by stone and layer by layer, yet clearly by the hands of amateurs! 
Old these stones in the wall are, for time can only damage what is already weakened.
Enduring the test of time are endless miles of broken down stones along this old wall,
Chipped away on the outside, but still standing sturdy and firm maintaining a delicate core!
Enduring such strength, for they are all very well defined by their evident and only weakness.
An endless wall of old broken down stones and still they will stand strong and still so very tall.
Miles of evidence from darker times for sure by their obvious structure of neatness!
Beaten and battered these stones are and still they maintain such a strong and sturdy core!
There are many weakened stones along this old broken down wall,
Yet it stands distinct and firm with its battle against its only known weakness.
Individualized by one is the other occupying the many miles of this wall from so long before.
What a vision to see a wall that strong, beaten and weakened only by its evidenced neatness.
Broken down stones hold this old wall and each one with their many different shapes and colors!

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I Know You Read My Writing

I’m glad you’re entertained,
Or better yet informed,
About your mate’s past,
And how he lies to and with,
Me and you.

I’m overjoyed to have a fan,
That I thought would never be.
It simply flatters me.
I know that I’m a fan,
Of someone.
I’ll be lady like,
And not mention any names.

Dude had a field day all year.
Every time the dreadful day got near,
I started arguments,
For the madness to end.
There wasn’t any hope indeed,
He wasn’t trying to take heed.

I heard constant brags,
Of I get it from both of y’all
And how good I was,
And I often complained,
Not good enough,
Because I don’t have a ring.

Boy, would  he get angry
And say I have to stop coming over,
That was music to my ears,
It never happened until now,
That I told you 
In my poem “The Ugly Truth.”
I am glad, glad, glad,
That it is finally over,
So glad, I consider this
One of the worst  life experiences,
That I ever had.

I’m glad you’re entertained,
Or better yet informed,
About your mate’s past,
And how he lied to and with,
Me and you.

wrote 7-25-09

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Anger, jealousy, happiness, sadness, love and hate,
it's the feelings that penetrate,
the entire being of each persons fate.

Emotions are endless, powerless, powerful and most profound,
some cannot be hidden, some cannot be found.

No one is exempt from these unpredictable surges that erupt,
some good, some corrupt.

They can be dormant before working their way to the light,
suddenly exploding, day or night.

Controlling such overwhelming power can be hard to do,
Emotions, they belong to me and you...

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389 Causality : part 2

In my arousing fear I turned and ran all the way back
To the split in the road and with a short hesitance
Began walking down the road of causality
Strange as it was no one followed.
   As I reached the door at the end of the road
An orb of light appeared into existence
In my fear of not knowing I was taken aback
The door opened revealing nothing known
And from the orb came a voice
"Wait, your fear is invalid. Your sense of normality is unnatural
Instilled over your lifetime to inflict fear of the unknown
To see deviance and indifference as illness.
This is the door of causality, it brings enlightenment
And creates change. Though there has only been few
You are not the first to find this door open
In order to cross the threshold you must let go
Of your illusions
You must see the unknown and welcome it not with fear 
But with an open mind."
   I pondered these words for a moment then asked
"How can I be certain that what you say is true
That there really has been others before me?"
Once again the orb spoke
"In here is causality, here words became written
Here, the Sun became the center of the universe
In here the Earth became round and was no longer flat."
   The orb has spoken true. Those men are in history
They were known in their time for breaking the norm
In removing themselves from illusion
They were seen as ill and evil even
Many people became enlightened as a result of their wisdom
Again the orb spoke, "In crossing the threshold
You enter into uncertainty. Each day will bring knowledge
The experience to face the uncertainty of each new day
It will also bring the burden of pity and sorrow
For many will never surpass the illusion of normality
They will remain blind to the end of their existence
And in so, die in vain
This is the burden of knowledge and truth
In your enlightenment you will exist and with each new day
You will experience the true meaning
Of what it means to be alive
Illusion will no longer have control over you
You will face each new day with life
The uncertainty of what is to come
The wisdom to accept change as well as create it
For yourself and for others."
   "What must I do to accept this and all you say," I asked
"You are on the road of causality," the orb stated
"In order to cause change you need only to step forward."
 In the moments it took to ponder all the words
Told to me, the decision was made
I too shall break the illusions of normality
I looked into the threshold and took my step and now
I face life.
By:Darren J McMurray

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Unkept Secrets

                                    If fate's when first impressions love
                                  Then regret's yearning what never was
                                    At ease entranced my eyes retrieve
                                                Forgotten memories
                                      Told this tale countless times 
                                  I loved an angel who lost her mind
                             Choose one word which rhymes with fate
                             Relive my life and transcend its mistakes
                             Reclaim precious time, addiction wastes
                      Some angels charm, yet their misery is shared fate

                                         Past memories,I can't forget 
                                   To cherish the past without regret
                                               Until my last breath
                              An angel's death is my secret unkept

                     If wisdom's embraced, trying moments mature
                                Some more fortunate, won't endure
                                Search the cosmos, search inside
                                Is regret volition's reward?And why?

                              Some lost souls embrace addiction
    Save precious time , their unfurtunate fate is an intuitive prediction
                        Some have past lives they've barely survived
                           Is pain volition's reward, or human error?
                              Is regret finite? Will love last forever?

                                         Past memories I can't forget
                                   To cherish the past without regret
                                              Until my last breath 
                                  An angel's death is my secret unkept                                        

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Our Time Is Running Out

What is going to happen when every ones credit gets shut off? 
   We will be like a bunch of pigs scrambling, only to find no food is in the trough.

If  the National Debt were paid off today, do you know how much it would cost 
every man, woman, and child?
    Each person would have to pay $29,000.00, now ain’t that wild?

It’s like we’ve gotten ourselves into a bog with no way out.
   Well I know of but one way but skeptics will argue and try to show their clout.

How did we get to be this great power, the Home of the Free?
   It was when God was given the honor and glory, this some will agree.

God is our Father and He only wants to give us His best.
   And all He asks in return is for us to honor and praise Him, such a simple 

But no something happened we let the minority rule,
   By taking away the simplest of things like prayer in our schools.

If you felt unwanted somewhere I wonder if you’d stay?
   Did you ever stop and think just maybe God too feels this way?

Has the Doom Day clock already been set?
    I think it can be turned around there maybe hope for us yet.

But first we must unlock and open the door and invite Him back again.
   Then we will see a change in things when our Savior is home my friend.

We’ve tried both ways and the latter did not work.
    So bend your knees and ask Him back, stop listening to those jerks.

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My Only Desire

I never wanted to be with this guy.
After meeting and talking to him,
I got a message from the big guy in the sky.
“Help him, Nikki,” and I wondered why,
I still do.
Being around him made me,
 Happy sometimes and sometimes blue.

Every time I wanted things between me and him
To be through, the big guy would say no,
“I told you that I wanted you to see,
What I made him to be.”
I saw many great things and felt great,
After being with him, loving him,
And praying for him constantly.

I saw what God wanted him to be,
And how he was being held back by himself,
His family and those people in the streets.
I fell in love with this man,
Not because I really wanted to.
It was because He wanted me to.

My plan was for him to be with me,
For three days only.
It wasn’t God’s,
This situation is odd.
We started getting closer,
And doing things together,
Like we were supposed to.

This journey began as friends not lovers,
We had many good times,
As long as battles, trials, and struggles.
During this process , I realized that this man,
Was just like me.
Hurt by someone that was supposed to teach,
Him to love and how to be loved.

I did not do everything right,
But I tried.
Many nights I prayed and cried,
Because of the similarities of our lives.
My only desire was for him to be successful,
Not to be with me.
He’s still unsuccessful, so I’ll stay on my knees,
Until that only desire is achieved.

He fulfills the desires of those who fear him; he hears their cry and saves them. Psalm 145: 

(started 1-15-10 finished 1-23-10)

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That you continue to draw breath matters to me.
Every time that your heart beats
It means something to me.
Why is it that those things
That you most want and crave from life,
Are those things that you refuse to see.
It's time to take the self-imposed blinders
That keep you feeling sheltered, lonely, and desperate
Off and purposefully see what is really around you!
If you are unwilling to let it matter to you-
That you matter to me,
It is of no value, use, or purpose
That I continue to draw breath or
That my heart continues to beat
For to you, it is as if neither even exist.

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our souls pathway to the heart

                    Innocence and peace are states of mind at the very beginning and 
towards the very end . Everything in between , the mid-cycle , of our lives are what 
create all the differences , through multiple emotional interaction . 
                     The dual mind , positive / negative , and how it effects our behaviors , 
which ultimately becomes who we project and how we eventually percieve 
ourselves , or decieve ourselves and others , by not knowing honestly who we 
truly are internally , our soul being , a spark of light which is that spark of love 
within' . Our physical being is a shadow of our spiritual self , our shadow 
becomes an expression , an accumulation of emotions learned through 
experience . From the moment of our birth into the physical world , our life 
experiences begin as pebbles . Through the course of time and space , our 
experiences , our spiritual growth , become larger stones , boulders , or better 
put , " weights of burden " . Once we begin to understand and recognize , at that 
moment of facing our heaviest obstacle , at that moment , we have to take an 
honest look internally and summon the strength and courage to properly remove 
it . Once we can unlearn to relearn , those boulders , obstacles , begin to get 
smaller , until they again appear as pebbles . A story in retrospect .
                            Imagine yourself as a fish in the river . One day the river floods 
over it's embankment , and you the fish , instead of staying in the river , you get 
caught in the wave of the flood into a pool outside the rivers edge . As the flood 
waters recede to normal , you now become stuck outside the natural flow of your 
existence , in an outer pool . In time as the water evaporates into the air from the 
heat of the sun , you begin to lose sense of your life force , the essence of your 
being , until the moment comes when you begin to die and as the ground around 
you begins to dry and crack , so do you , being reduced to dust to be blown in the 
wind . 
                              If the fish hadn't lost his way and had faced the challenge of the 
flood , and stayed true to itself and stayed the course of his natural existence , he 
may have avoided such a tragic fate . Like the fish , that monstrous boulder is our 
challenge to remove and stay on our pathway , our soul journey . The moment we 
look for the easy way around and head in a different direction , we could possibly 
be setting ourselves up with the same fate of the fish .

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Build Jobs For All Our People

Your children can't find work
they wander the streets 
form up as groups 
those groups become gangs

people introduce drugs
if you get a child hooked on drugs
you have a customer  
for the rest of their live's

teenagers the years 
where we make mistakes
the years where we get addicted
smoking drinking drugs

teenagers make the decisions
that we as adults live with 
for the rest of our lives
yet give a child a job

and the road is vastly different
give a child a job
they get married start a family
save for their home

Children fight, to prove themselves
a child lost, in a fountain, of confusion
ready to prove themselves a man
yet we ignore their needs 

to many lives are lost
trying to find the inner man
trying to cope
with the broken hearts of love

in the wild the male stag
fights to prove he's come of age
fights to prove his right to mate
we think ourselves above 

yet nature still holds sway
the birth of life the summer stage
we but actors in life plays
the male stag has come of age 

I remember my youth
when we as a group of four
planed to defend ourselves at a dance
parking the car blocks away

who would stand and who would leave
each to head in different directions
only to find the dance had been shut down
to much violence in the town

In my teenage years
I started smoking 
enjoyed a drink
suffered pain lost love complete

Teenagers the time 
where mum and dad
are no longer the gods of advice
as we develop the adult mind

start to believe that we know better
remember the arguments
all my friends will be there
yet how much more we have learned

How do we protect our youth 
if we leave them roaming the streets
we talk about abuse
yet not having work 

not having a career
is the greatest mistake
help get the youth off our streets
build jobs for all our people 

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To The Band Of Brothers From Viet Nam

What did I do when I was a kid?
    Loved life, had fun that’s what I did.
Enjoyed what I had, and had what I enjoyed.
    Never to be bothered seldom ever annoyed.
Stood tall, felt proud, proud of this country, The Home Of The Free!
    Proud to be an American, lucky to be a part of such a great society.
Then something happened that ripped this country apart.
    It was called a police action but it ripped and tore at the very soul of this country 
it tore at her heart.
 Was it right or was it wrong?
    So many mixed emotions were played out in the words of yesteryears songs.
The seventy’s brought on free love, drugs, and the start of a decline in our morals 
in this story.
    Viet Nam brought both shame and honor, but very little was given in the name 
of glory.
Many young Americans lost their life or were crippled and maimed.
   And had to come home to a country that held them in contempt or made them 
feel ashamed.
They were pushed aside refused work treated like second class dirt.
    And what did they do they too had feelings they too could hurt.
We blamed our soldiers instead of the politicians that sent them there.
    They were the ones that were dying but no one seemed to care.
So to the Viet Nam Vets I say I for one am proud of you this very day.
   And may God Bless you all each and every one is the prayer for you I pray.
And maybe someday there will no longer be wars are reason for blood shed.
   In thanks to The Band Of Brothers from Nam we should all give thanks as we 
bow our heads.

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The Blues (2006)

I am sitting here alone
Here all alone
This is not my real home

I have nothing and no one
Absolutely nothing and no one
All the love I ever had has gone

My destiny in life is what I sing bluely 
I sing it bluely
Until I am yours truly

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I Make Me

Life like war has many casualties

It shows pity on none

I long for perfection in my time

Knowing I’ll never find that someone

I make me ‘Me’ not u so remember that!

Defined by what I think I am

Explained by who I aspire to be

Persuaded by nothing and no one

Bejeweled by my own aspirations

I make me ‘Me’ not u so remember that!

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Words can take you wherever you wish to be.
   Words can capture and words can set you free.
Words have strength and words have power.
   Words can be descriptive like the beauty of a flower.
Words can be soft like a warm summers rain.
   Words can be harsh intended to bring only pain.
Words can be lifting like words filled with love.
    Words can be hurtful when anger replaces that love.
Words can be soothing like a young mothers kiss.
    Words can hold ecstasy and filled with heavenly bliss.
Words can show feelings and make things okay.
    Words can paint pictures if we know what to say.
Words are what separates us from all other things.
    Words can hold victory and the joys that it brings.
Words can hold life and a thing known as death.
    Words are just sounds made with mutterance of breath.

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Just Because

Just because, 
I really thought I was!
I was coming and coming,
Holding nothing back!
I could go anywhere,
I could go running!
I came unlatched.
I just really can not compare!
Just because,
I just really knew it was!
I kept going and going,
Holding nothing back!
I went showing!
I was unlatched
I am just really glowing!
Just because,
It really was,
It was here and now!
Holding nothing back!
I go proud!
I am unlatched!
I am just really now!
Just because,
It really was!
But gone forever!
Holding nothing back!
I went clever!
I became unlatched!
I was prisoner, 
Just because 
I really was!

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Sequim may still beckon

The quagmire of being a listener and a decider at the same time
may take a challenge on how to respond well to certain actions;
visible or invisible that may entail a careful look or understanding
can be a potential force to generate the so-called explanations.

There are choices to make and the roads seem  rough and bumpy,
at times there are snow storm, blizzard, sleet, or freezing rain;
with highway crews scrambling to clear the roads and pathways,
and the traffic that snarls and many vehicles that squeeze in to some lanes.

Taken together, as these may symbolize some good and bad times,
the sense of being involved and thrown to a particular lifestyle;
this, however, can provide us a better picture for a total vision,
those problems and preoccupations that normally draw us in.

The language of silence – an invitation that happens within,
its core meaning unearths its significance in decision making
like being in sequim where we can think and reflect well;
as we may be attuned to the source of inspiration.

It’s no easy task when we come to grips with a dilemma,
our whole system gets involved especially in our thinking;
it’s like a movement within, with tension in sequim,
but at least in conjunction with the wisdom of our reason.

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The Part We Play


As the wind rustles through the sycamore trees,
      It brings such a peaceful spirit that hovers over me.
It’s like the words spoken from a million foreign tongues,
      Hypnotizing and luring is the rhythm as the song is sung.
Ten thousand leaves all move in perfect harmony,
     As the trunk sways gently so majestically.
And the little brook that flows by this little forest of trees,
    Babbles it’s own little song not affected by the breeze.
And standing on her banks is a young whitetail doe,
    Just looking around not caring which way to go.
It’s so peaceful out here it’s like life has slowed down.
     Things are so beautiful when mans not around.
It seems like what ever God creates we have an obligation to mess it up,
     We act more like an unruly and disobedient spoiled little pup.
We’re not in tune to nature we never were,
     We are like the Vikings we’ve ravaged and pillaged her.
As long as we are comfortable no matter the cost,
     It doesn’t matter about tomorrow or if it is completely lost.
So who do we blame if tomorrow doesn’t show.
    It really could happen but who really knows?

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God Bless America

When we pledge our allegiance to the Flag of the United States of America.
    And also to the Republic for which it stands, one Nation under God.
It doesn’t say under budda or allah or any other form of belief that is not 
Christian. Indivisible which means we are not to be divided. With Liberty which 
we have ungrudgingly shared, and Justice which we are daily being deprived of. 
And last it says for All, which I take it to mean for Americans and our way of life. 
This is a pledge only for Americans and intended only for Americans. That was 
written by Americans many years ago that had been suppressed of many rights 
we now take for granite. When we give up one right think of all the blood that was 
let just so you could have that right.

To my brothers and sisters that live in this land.
    Let us reclaim freedom as in God as we stand.
Let us stop the abortions and save the child.
    Return discipline back to the educators in return for a child that is not wild.
Remove elected officials that don’t do their job or do what they say.
   Send those to jail that accept bribery or pay.
Stop turning your head when you see something that is not right.
    Beef up the minutemen and teach them to fight.
Goods can be exchanged at the borders but allow no foreign vehicle to traverse 
cross our land.
    No more immigrants allowed, no more can this country of ours stand.
We are united and we have all sworn the oath.
     To better our country and cherish its growth.

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Evil Guide

He whom comes' with sin
Alternatively and without reason'
Corrupts' the absent 
Person of his being, and
Neither does' his gratitude 
Gain prosperity, It can only
Sprout envy
And dissatisfaction of
That trail which stridulates'
Through-out the annul'
Man and his generational
Quest to become insolent
This is man's last basting


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Shift in mood

Life is a constant cycle of happiness, joy, and sorrow;
at times it’s suffused with exciting events and interactions,
there’s God-given grace and wisdom reflected on them,
it’s experienced and found like an insight from within.
It’s also a season for a number of changes that happen,
Either within or extra each exemplifies change so far;
with a crunch time for individuals to cope with life,
it’s an array of challenges that makes up the fabric –
in every single event that brings forth a message.

Where there’s joy, sadness follows suit;
where there are failures, success may await somewhere,
it’s like a wheel where it rolls over the road;
a reminder that, indeed, human beings are made for it.

When weeping has its moment to reveal the pain,
when happiness has its moment to unfold satisfaction;
their contributions to the manner of living provides –
how important these things that serve us so much.

Growing in faith in the midst of all these struggles,
enables one to remain strong, undaunted by fear;
in a world which at times so harsh or filled with wonder,
only God can make a difference through his own people.

With the scale of ups and downs and the emerging failures,
shifts in lifestyle, attitudes, moods, or human behaviors,
knowing in full the rich blessing and power beyond;
hope can be a harbinger of things that await somewhere.

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Campfire Talk

The old campfire was pleasant as we sat by its flames. 
   Thinking on days gone by, and certain people with forgotten names. 
Talking of life and all that we’ve learned. 
   And of certain deals gone bad and just how badly were we burned. 
Thinking on good times as well as the bad. 
   Sometimes we make happy, sometimes we make sad. 
It’s all about choices, the ones that are given and the ones that we make. 
   The ones given freely, the ones that we take. 
We are lucky to be living in a country so free. 
   As we watch smoke billowing thru leaves of this old hickory tree. 
One thought came to mind and was spoken out loud. 
   As a citizen of America, I’m honored and proud. 
And as we reminiscence on our families, especially our wives. 
   We’d be nowhere without them, they brighten our lives. 
This kinship and loyalty to our country, should be given freely without being told. 
   If we do this, then democracy and freedom will be ours to cherish and to hold. 
Keep God on the front page in all that we do. 
   And He’ll keep standing for the Red, White, & Blue. 

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A Thistle, a Cedar and a Wild Beast

In Lebanon there was a thistle, 
A cedar, and a wild beast.
The thistle was in full bloom.
With its purple blossoms and prickly green leaves and stalk,
It pierced all who would dare touch it.
Though low to the earth for humility,
One day out of its own pride and glory,
The thistle threatened the cedar, who was standing tall and red
Emitting its pure fragrance in the cool breeze
With its branches lifted high and wide toward Heaven
Full of unwithered green leaves.
"Give your daughter to my son in marriage!"
Shouted the thistle under a looming shadow.
But the cedar held its peace, 
Neither felled it any of its branches.
Then in a moment of terrible humiliation,
A wild beast suddenly pounced upon and ferociously trampled
The crowned and purple thistle and passed on by,
But the cedar still stands there today.
Uncrowned thistles and beasts rest under its shade.

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If Ever I Should Have to Wonder

If ever I had to wonder, 
I would simply wonder why our paths were even destined to cross.
Obviously, I have so many things I have to wonder, 
Because my love carries the strength of steel and an armor of cloth!
No doubt that I will think of the many things that could always make me sigh.
But I know that I’d forever wonder why so much pain comes with an inevitable loss?
“Tis a soul for a soul and one cast out with your solemn moment of pride”.

If ever I should have to wonder, 
Indeed I would have wondered where?

Where is the beginning and where is the end to this forsaken way of life?
Where does all this “hidden truth” lay and why is it that I’m still standing and I can survive?

No doubt that I will think of the many things that I could always compare,
But I know that I’d forever wonder how much warmth there really is out there to share.
Brought down from sorrows below my beliefs have become my sacrifice.

If ever I had to wonder, 
I’d simply wonder where?
Where do we go when we go away and why is it that we even have to leave?
Where is this truth and why should I be the only one that will produce my beliefs?

No doubt that I would think of the many things that could always make me instantly care.
But I know that I would forever wonder why there’s so much hope with all of this despair.
‘Tis a soul for a soul and each is in such a constant dire of eternal need”!

If ever I should have to wonder, 
I’d simply wonder why this was all even meant to be.

Why could you not see the power and the glory that God has invested in the life of me?
Obviously so many things to have to wonder because love carries so many will’s that fizzle 
and die.
No doubt that I would think of the many things that could always make me sad and cry.
But I know that I will forever wonder was it I, the one who has been received?
But most of all I will forever wonder what is it that you, as one, really believe?

© Copyright:  1998   Ann Rich

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The Hands of Time

The hands of time seems to always keep us near.
    As we wander through life’s portals full of its mystery’s and fears.
Like an old mother hen who keeps her young drawn in.
    Time can be such a blessing or be your worst friend.
Our human nature never leaves us to be just satisfied.
    Always pushing the envelope trying new things that we have not tried.
Always wanting something that is just out of reach.
    Never learning our lesson or receiving the message that life has to teach.
If we all followed a set path life would be such a bore.
    That is why we are never happy but always wanting more.
Trying to achieve the impossible dream.
     That’s what makes life interesting, everyone is an individual not just part of a 
Reason or rhyme, or rhyme or reason,
    We all have our highlights we all have our season.
As destiny leads us to ponder our fate,
     We are tempted and teased to enter into dire straits.
A good book I once read, said narrow the way and small is the gate.
    That leads us to righteousness if this be our fate.
So make no mistakes we all have a say.
    It’s just how you live determines the price you will pay.

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Complex (2005)

Yes we are complex and have millions of layers up on layers 
No one knows us apart from us we are our life’s players
Everything has a reason and no one can see
None except me 
Misunderstood and never returned 
Life goes on and some never learned 
We are complex creates do not forget
Everyday is another layer, another layer that they won’t ever get

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Be Nice


There are so many ways to hurt someone or to be hurt.
    That is why we guard our heart and stay alert.
Seldom does an apology completely heal the scar that was left behind.
    An apology simply eases our own peace of mind.
So guard your words and don’t try to offend.
    You’ll have a much nicer relationship in the end.
Saying you’re sorry can only go so far.
      Like fishing without bait or wishing on a star.
Compliments are much better received.
      Whether they’re for real or only make believe.
Choose your words like you choose your clothes.
      Then you’ll see how much easier your life really goes.
The nicer the clothes that you wear.
      The nicer the words you need to share.
Take good care and have a really nice day.
       Try to always be nice and you’ll be blessed in so many ways.

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Love is the Key


The chances are you will never know.
    Till you make the commitment to see if your love will truly grow.
Let your heart not your head guide in this choice.
     For sometimes it speaks with a mighty true voice.
It can feel what you can only think.
    It can see when your mind draws nothing but blanks.
Both hearts have to be on the same frequency.
    Before love can ever flourish and truly ever be.
Love is like a being that has to be fed.
    Love without substance is like a tree without water you’ll soon find it dead.
Give all you’ve got when you know what you want.
    But never cross the boundaries of love when your sweetheart says don’t.
You are as one and one you will be.
     Trust is the answer and love is the key.

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Is the End Really Near?

All I know is what I feel and what I see.
   And it sure looks like the time for Jesus to return to me.
It looks like maybe the final page has been read.
   Prophecies are being fulfilled and painted in red.
 Are you ready to take that final walk?
    Or are you hiding in the bushes when it’s to Jesus you should talk?
I don’t see how this old world can take much more abuse.
    When everyone knows what’s wrong, then there is no excuse.
Wars and rumors of war is all that my generation has ever known.
    And before my generation passes I fear Armageddon will be shown.
Read and study the Book of Revelation then you’ll know where I come from.
    It’s full of prophecies that have come to pass and some that have yet to come.
Our on technology has brought us to the place.
    Where we are capable of exterminating the entire human race.
Think about it if you think I’m telling you wrong.
    And I know there have been people crying the world is going to end for so long.
But never ever have we had transportation, communication, or the power we all 
now hold.
     And it’s written in the Bible so it’s not like we’ve not been told.
There was much in the Bible that was not understood.
    Until lately the things are falling in to place just like it said it would.
I know that’s all the bad news now where is the good?
    Well we can be sure our Lord and Savior will return because it says He would.
And for those that haven’t received Jesus as their Savior.
    You still have time to repent and to modify your wrongful behavior.
Seek the Lord with all your heart .
     And stay in His word that is your part.
Then you will have no fear of the end that is near.
     For with Jesus to guide you will know no fear.
God Bless You All!

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Holy Tithe

I saw a man today with zippers on his shoes
and platforms in the news
never stopped him from stepping in the street

I ask him why he looks at the sky
while bombs are blasting at his feet
and he turned to me and softspoke lyricly

of rainbows and starshine, moonshine
and castles in the sky
flying carpets and aladdin’s – mysterious like gempurple – lamp

I saw a boy today with gold flecks in his eyes
and in tremblehands he held a prize,
the world. at his feet; he prayed.

why god are we made this way?
and why does this pain in my chest (such heavy feeling)
set like a stone. in hurting others we hurt ourselves.

why are so many blind to this paradox?
and lock their rationaltics away for ideals and
speals surreal. like a drug is the passion worth all the pain?

I saw a mother daypregnant with worry
for her daughters and sons and in such a hurry
to love with all her heart because that was all she could give.

I told her why don’t you leave this place. this
wreaking ball place. but she smiled with a
twinkle in her eye and told me such tales of scheherazade and her arabian k(nights

and me nightpregnant with fear flee dustfloating notions
that are my present circumstances and
like shahryar immediatly suspicious

the wheel turns and burns halfmooncircles
into the skin and banishes all the compassion of the heart.

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Bah, Humbug!

Tis’ the season, are you jolly?
   Can’t afford to hang the holly!
Got to pay the doctors first.
   Fill their coffers till they burst.
Fill the prescriptions, do we need those?
   It’s been so long since we’ve bought new clothes.
Forget about food you don’t need that!
   Everything you eat just makes you fat.
To fill your car you need a bank loan.
   Why listen to me I just moan and groan.
So many unjust people in the political scene.
   Their minds on nothing but the color green.
Prove me wrong and I’ll buy you a coke.
   But you know I’m right, they’re just one big joke.
Thank God for our forefathers that laid down some rules.
   Common sense to them was a virtuous tool.
The price of a new vehicle when I was a young man.
   Now has gone through the ceiling I don’t understand.
I could go on but what good would it do.
   And I still love this country and the Red, White, and Blue.

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I remember being loved very much
Of loving you too in the day, in the night and  . . . 
And I remember waking in the early morning
Before the sun rose
Before the moon fell
I remember watching the sighing of moonlight across your skin
How it rained just for us, for you in March
And how the skies shaded the sun on that one-day in October so slightly
I remember our children
And Mary
I remember our first child and the way you smiled in those first moments

I remember
In the sighing of my life I remember you
Watching over me
Loving me
Always loving me
And . . .

I remember dying

Growing old together with laughter and tears
Of looking back on our life together
Of being eighty-four summers old and new 
Of celebrating your eighty-third autumn and spring
With our children
And our grandchildren with their squealing laughter and “Nana, Nana!”

I remember my last breath
And how my eyes fell upon you to the last

I remember dying

My story . . . 

It was supposed to end there

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The Clouds

The clouds hover above
Watching over me like an angel
Protecting me from the sun's fire like breath

A reflection off the water
is like the suns rays
passing through a diamond
Flickering and reflecting
Giving off an illusion like a master magician

Illusions, Illusions, Illusions in the fog
Playing Hide and seek with my eyes
Twisting my brain in knots

What is it, I ask?
The clouds start to laugh at me
But laughter soon turns to sadness and I cry

A Teardrop touches my face
And a teardrop slides down my cheek
Finally reaching my chin
As a solitary teardrop falls
You can hear the echo of a thousand more

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A Letter From Paul Harvey

Here I sit reading our local rag. 
    Our little newspaper full of good stuff and hometown brag.
Anyway a story caught my eye. 
    A story by Paul Harvey in his quest to find the answer why.
He speaks of different religions in our land.
    But the majority is Christianity, and the point he makes, makes you understand.
He said get your phone book out and let it prove my point I try to make.
    Christian churches outnumber all other by 200 to 1 for goodness sake.
He said a thirty second prayer before a football game isn’t asking that much.
    We’re not praying to change the world, just let our boys be safe and have a 
safe trip home and such and such.
Just humor our wish is all we ask.
     Surely your god will look the other way while we perform this simple task.
We’re not out to convert no one or asking that you even share.
      And the atheist’s can even take a toilet break while we say our prayer.
 But speaking as the majority why is it that we have to ask?
     No one is asking to come home with you just let us perform this one simple 
If I were in Bagdad at a soccer game, I’m sure they would say a Muslim prayer.
     Which I would understand and that would be okay, I don’t think I ‘d care.
Or someone praying to Buddha in China at a ping pong match.
    It wouldn’t upset me or cause an itch, you know one that you cannot scratch..
Paul goes on to say we have been silent for much too long.
   We live in a country where majority rules so let that be the name of this song.
In closing he says God bless us all especially those that denounce Him.
   God bless our service men and women, God please bless them.
This is the year the silent majority needs to be heard.
   And bring our troops home was his final word.
Well I for one agree with Paul.
    He puts his job and reputation on the line to stand for one and all.
He’s a man of honor and conviction.
    He loves this country and to him with God there should be no restriction.
Thank you Paul Harvey .

     And that’s the way it was!!!!!!

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Crazy;  just
unyielding lust aflight which was restrained
Escaping love for life
It flirts isistently with the wind
of the breath that is,
my life

Hurling mysteries grand to be told to oneself,
Until overwhelming truths will cease to be part of your youth,

Feel past, present, future drives meshed so clear this very time,

Then you may see all that you know, all that you are, not very far

by n. sorokan

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United Christians


The winds of change are blowing across our great land,
    It’s time for Christians to unite and take a prominent stand.
No more standing back or cowering down.
     As United Christians we’ll stand strong in every city and town.
Christ was persecuted once and I think that is enough,
     He died for our sins back when things were tough.
In my heart I know He died for us all,
     They nailed Him to the cross, He took the fall.
It was to His own choosing that He did this deed,
     That all God fearing people their souls could be freed.
That is why I love Him so and to follow Him I choose,
      That’s why as Christians united we cannot lose.
If we don’t stand up it can be taken away,
     But if we unite they’ll have to listen to what we say.
The minorities have ruled just a little too long,
      It’s time we put a stop to letting them do things we know are wrong.
The day is coming and I feel it coming quick,
      When you’ll have to make a choice which one to pick.
All signs are pointing to the second coming of our Lord,
      And if you make the wrong choice you’re going to learn the meaning of the 
word called hard.
Stand for Jesus, like He stood for you,
      United in Christ is the right thing to do

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Take Your Eyes Off Man


I pray today brings me wealth.
   Not monetarily but spiritual health.
You see I’ve been backsliding some.
   And I don’t like the feelings that have come.
I took my eyes off the Lord and placed them on man.
   If you’ve ever done that I’m sure you’ll under stand
Brothers and sisters even in Christ will often let us down.
   That is why we need to keep our eyes on the one who wore the thorny crown.
Somehow I got lost in the shuffle, got turned all around.
    Had it not been for Jesus I’d never have been found.
He’s always in the shadows till we reach for His hand.
    How can He keep on forgiving us, I don’t understand.
We have temptations that are many.
    For it’s the devil who would love to snare you, for he has plenty.
Old satan sits and calculates all our weakest parts.
    Whether it be a lustful eye or a hardened heart.
He fills your mind full of things.
    In hopes to him your soul you’ll bring.
That’s how easy it is with him, he just plants a little thought.
    He knows all our weakness and if we can be bought.
That is why we must stay in Gods word and never turn our backs.
    That is why I’m praying for spiritual health to help take up the slack.

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understanding unity

One of the biggest flaws in human relationships is the thought of that old saying 
of  " opposites attract " . Eventhough it's a concept of possibility with enormous 
rewards , for most , it becomes a lack of understanding .
Balance.......if you set up a barrel with a long plank of wood to form the school 
yard teeter-totter , and place one person on each end , you find difficulty 
balancing one end to the other . The only way to create balance is through 
understanding and each coming together at the center to balance and form unity .
You can apply this to personal relationships , but also it can be applied to nation 
to nation relations . Until we can rid ourselves of self serviant attitudes and 
personal agendas , we may never experience what it's meant to be whole .
Unity should be our human destiny ..........

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Deaths Kiss

Last night I dreamed a wonderful fantasy,
We were together for all the world to see,
We were in a field of white roses and snapdragons,
You were dressed in black from head to toe with a white dragon,
On your back I too was in a black dress and black lace,
Then a slow smile spread across your face.
You kissed me with black lips,
Someone said it was deaths kiss,
The kiss broke and you began to laugh,
Then you took my hand and lead me down a darkened path,
I saw Alaucard and he smiled at me,
As though he knew and could see,
Right through me to my pounding heart,
You said from me you would never part.
We kissed again and this time was different,
It was if this kiss had sent,
A coldness right into my soul,
Then you whispered you would never let go.
Your hand was cold as was your touch,
No one had ever affected me this much,
Then I woke up with a fright,
It had been a horrible night,
I went to the bathroom and what did I see,
The black deaths kiss you had given me.

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I was not all Alone

Wind was blowing with a sound of the likes of the wolf's scream
Again it was midnight, where I was awake while others in a dream
I could see those big trees from the window
Moving with the wind but their motion was slow
It was like talking with the trees
If I say something for they will nod with the breeze
All alone I was, but it was all funny
For never I was without a company
I was feeling these lazy creatures still with me
No wonder, they were so involved with me.

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A Message

The judge called it a crime against humanity,
   He said he had to have lost all reason and sanity.
How could some one do to a race of people what this one man has done.
   He turned a whole nation against them because they were called the chosen 
And gender didn’t matter to him just who you were and what you believed.
    If you were Jewish it was the death sentence you received.
They were used in labor camps and treated worse than a slave,
   Split up from their family and most were sent to an early grave.
Starved and beaten and packed in cattle cars and sent off to different camps.
   With no respect given they were treated worse than the lowest of tramps.
Animals were given more respect than this breed of people God had claimed for 
His very own.
    This had to have been one of the worst injustices this old world has ever 
But the thing that scares me now is that it may happen again.
    I feel like if we don’t try to stop it that God will punish us cause we are suppose 
to be her friend.
Israel pretty much stands alone and the center of all that is going on.
   Iran has made her threat when they have a nuclear weapon Israel will be the 
first to get blown.
America is strong as strong as can be,
   But we’re hated and despised for being the land known as the Free.
It’s time we pay attention to this world we live in.
   And quit catering to those who we know are truly not our friends.
We may have to tighten up our belts to make ends meet.
   But that’s better than losing what we’ve got and tasting the bitter taste of defeat.
We as a society think our good life can never ever stop.
   But what if tomorrow the bottom should drop?
All that I am trying to say is I think we need to show we support Israel,
    And be less trusting of all things in this world is what I feel.     
We need to give God all the credit for all that he is.
    For everything in this world is still His…….

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Full Circle


Across the river their campfires could be seen,
A Lakota village so peaceful and serene.

Where children played chase with a barking dog,
And old men spun tales while sitting a log.

A simple life was lived by them all,
They moved each spring and again before fall.

They lived this way for many a year, 
Before the white man started moving near.

Greed was not a part of the things they knew,
It was a bitter pill and hard to chew.

Their land had always provided what they would need,
But now they were facing a people so full of greed.

The white man came and found the yellow ore,
And told the Lakota’s they could not live here anymore.

They fought for a way of life they could not keep,
And forced onto reservations so many tears did they weep.

A proud nation that was brought to their knees,
It could happen to us so heed what I say please.

There is an old saying: what goes around, comes around.
There is much truth to these words I have found.

Things are a changing and it is our heads on the block,
We had better pay attention to what is going on, best be a watching that clock.

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My Dream


I had a dream earlier this morning,
   It was like I was receiving some type of a warning.
I was told to reach out to all I could,
   And that things are fixing to happen that may not be good.
Repent and turn from sin,
   These few words kept playing over and over again.
It was a dream but was it real,
    I feel like we are living and seeing the breaking of seals.
Look up look up keep watching the sky,
    Is another thing that keeps flashing in my minds eye.
I feel so strange writing this down,
     But I was told to share it all around.
I saw a lot of fire throughout my dream,
     And I felt as if I could hear people scream.
There was blood all over the ground, 
     And your feet would stick as you walked around.
There is only one thing I know to say,
    We must turn to the Lord and shed our evil ways.
Ask for redemption before it’s too late,
    Seek out Jesus and change your fate.
Seek Him in prayer on bended knees,
    Seek Him and ask Him to honor your pleas.
God bless you all that read my letter,
    Jesus is the only way things will get better.

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I become who I am through my experiences
What happened yesterday develops into I am today
How I perceive events will be how I think
Who we are today was shaped by yesterday mishaps

This is what life is all about good an bad
It is how mankind has grown through the eons
It is also we grow in our lifetime
Who we are today was shaped by yesterday mishaps

Our surroundings and event shape who we become
Without them we don't develop,we become stagnated
Our emotions and personalities are self centered
Who are we are today was shaped by yesterday mishaps

The tragedies, screw ups, and even the happy moments
All shape our thoughts and response to other
We learn patience,compassion,love and even understanding
Who are  we today was shaped  yesterday mishaps

It is something through our hurting others that we need to grow
By seeing the pain we cause we expand our world to let them in
When we experience our pain we can relate to others
Who are we today was shaped yesterday mishaps

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Receive the Gift and Be the Gift


As Christmas brings us joy and peace this time of year,
   Keep your heart merry and filled with admiration and good cheer.
A simple and kind act here and there,
   Share your blessings with those who have less and cannot share.
Don’t be a Scrooge, don’t be unkind,
    Give of yourself, you’ll have peace of mind.
If you see a family in need somewhere,
    Give with your heart learn how to share.
Be a role model for all to see.
    Show the world how good giving can truly be.
Think of the elderly who already have gave so much.    
   All they now seek are a few kind words and maybe a tender touch.
The elderly are part of a pushed away society.
     As they no longer can function they lose all notoriety.
Forgiveness and kindness are the greatest gifts that we can give.
     They are life’s lessons that teach us how we all should live.
Pray for harmony throughout the land.
     Pray for God to send peace and for all to understand.
And don’t forget the real reason for this holiday.
    Thank the Lord for Jesus and the price He had to pay.
The birth of our Savior was chosen to be this day.
    Wise men came to Him from far away.
Bringing gifts they were laden down.
    Searching for baby Jesus in that far off town.
King of all Kings, Man of all Men,
    Forgiver of all our mortal sins.
Jesus is the Greatest Gift you can ever receive.
   And it’s free of charge to those who truly believe.

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Curry (2005)

With love it will turn into a blessing
With hate it will be marinated in a poison dressing 
Add respect and values to the family you feed
A taste of satisfaction and not greed
There are ways you shouldn't and should
Manufactures will never reach whats inside my blood

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Destruction reared it's ugly head, accompanied by Doom;
lashing out at Liberty, to deliver a crippling wound.
A pace behind came Fire and Death, delivering their fateful blow;
with Fear and Terror riding close, flying on Horror all aglow.
Anarchy prepared the alter to serve the sacrificial rite.
Smoke and flame ascended unleashing Agony on sight.
Freedom stood amidst the pluming pillars of flame,
witnessing Destruction's craft at playing a favorite game.
Liberty is injured, raining teardrops of flesh and blood.
Heroes are required, let loose the power of Love.
Unity joined Resolve, the circle cannot be broke.
Charity dispatched Courage as Bravery released Hope.
The whole Earth represented, occupying one land,
cloistered in the flag of Glory, extending forth one hand.
The stars revealing Darkness, Destruction's closest friend.
The stripes that heal and save, when Freedom hails Amen.
Dismay was vanquished valiantly, replaced by Hope and Love.
Righteousness flew on eagle's wings when Peace released the dove.
Destruction knew through Liberty, Freedom could be taunted.
Freedom unveiled the colors of Strength, poised in a stand undaunted.

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The outcome of a deserved victory
picks up momentum
with an unstoppable frenzy,
but some call it delirium;
and who can stop the human spirit
in moments of unimpeding grit?

Unity grips the rampant imagination...
to set oneself free of all predjudice
by speaking words of liberty
and declaring, without shame,
one's undeniable ethnicity;
one can understand their jubilation
by joining them if it were their own...
to find this mood impeccably imperative!

Let the unstoppable frenzy
identify yourself and be proud;
take on, for only a brief time,
the frantic looks of invincibility...
never depress the exploding emotions, 
because they attest to the circumstances!

The desire to be recognized
for the strides and boldness...
reaches far beyond mere expectations;
expel the doubts,
rely on confidence...
be a brilliant lighthouse to humankind!

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I  am not superfulous
I am not high
I am just me 
agree or deny

Its in the look of my eye
in the swing of my hair
in the sheen of my lips 
in the boldness of my stare

Just cool as you need 
just warm as u need
I love being me 
its phenomenally

They say they know me
I say they don't 
They say they'll know me
I say they won't

As I walk by the place
as charming and free
Fellows either stand
or fall on their knees

I am not beautiful
or a supermodel type
but  for many a sad
the frown I can wipe

Its in the morning of my smile
in the grace of my wear
in the attitude of  style
in the need for my care

The mystery of myself
the shyness of me 
the wildness of my thoughts
its naturally!