I am Reality’s angel
resting on the broad shoulders of discovery
the truth feeds darkness and engulfs its target
ideas and concepts in turn become meaningless to you
there is a creator of all things
He is just and patient
many still have fallen into the masses of shadow
wrapped in their own filthy idols of philosophy
I have seen grown men fall like rose petals
and weaklings rise into unjust leaders
forever the follower of furtive evil
dominating only to remain inferior
the most important answers lie in the unseen regions
where no sense can fully give assurance
the mind that so many unreasonably twist and turn
grows weary because of the distance it must take
and truth be told the distance is not what frustrates
it is knowing we are seeking something far
that could very possibly not exist,
that our minds can twist into theoretical, idealistic nonsense
it is knowing all we really think we know
and yes—even a lie
all that has been written thus far rests under my wings
under the warmth in which you refuse to feel
can you believe in me—
though I am completely unseen?
how much more difficult would it be to see
Bob had been a lonely man ever since
His wife of fifty years had passed.
“Lord, let me join her.” he would pray.
“Let this day be my last.”
Each day, he went to the cemetery,
Just a short walk down the street.
After their talk, he would water her flowers
And hear passers-by whisper, “How sweet.”
One gray and misty morning,
He had hoped for sunnier skies
To plant fall bloomers at her graveside;
But, there, to his surprise…
Stood an old dog beside her stone;
Thin and dirty, but he struck a handsome pose.
He whined as Bob approached, as if to say,
“I could use a friend, you know.”
He sat calmly as Bob planted flowers,
Carefully sniffing each one Bob put in place.
Then, after the last one was planted,
He sniffed it; then turned and licked Bob’s face.
Bob smiled. “I had a dog when I was young…
Pal…he was a mighty good one too.
So, if you don’t mind old fella,
That’s what I’ll call you.”
Pal may have been an old dog,
But he was smart and handsome in his way;
So they made a deal, Bob would give him a meal
And a bath, if he decided to stay.
Pal loved his bath, then rolled in the grass.
He slept on a blanket in the den.
In the night, he dragged it next to Bob’s bed.
He intended to be Bob’s best friend.
Pal was such a good dog, housebroken too;
Never made a mess or got in trouble.
He knew about newspapers, slippers and Frisbees;
And when Bob called, he ‘d come on the double.
Yes, Pal gave Bob’s life new purpose.
A special bond of friendship was cast.
And never again did Bob pray,
“Lord, let this day be my last.”
For twelve years, the very best of friends,
Together night and day;
And so it was, until one night,
Both quietly passed away.
The next morning, an old woman,
Tears welling in her sad and lonely eyes,
Brought flowers to her husband’s grave;
But there, to her surprise….
Stood an old dog beside the stone,
Thin an dirty, but he struck a handsome pose.
He whined as she approached, as if to say,
“I could use a friend, you know.”
He sat calmly as she took old flowers
And put fresh ones in their place.
He carefully sniffed the fresh ones,
Then turned and licked her face.
She smiled. “I had a dog when I was young...
a good one too. His name was Pal.”
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
Yet he lets bad things happen
How can he exist?
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
The body: sacred
We’re all made in God’s image
A Lesson From the Buddha
The Buddha had been getting round
And listening to the crowd.
He’d often sat there silently
And heard them moan so loud
About their own sad burdens
And all the hurt they’d had.
So he thought up a little plan
That didn’t seem half bad.
He called the crowd together
Said “listen here you guys
I’ve been thinking for a great long while
And I have thought it wise
To grow a special tree for you
And here it lies before you
Now listen well to what I say
I’ll tell you what to do”
He said “this tree before you
It’s to hang your troubles on
Each one of you must go to it
And your troubles will be gone
As you hang them on it’s many branches
Then what you’ll need to do
Is take yourself some others burdens
And make them part of you”
The people thought that this was cool
It seemed a grand old way
To rid themselves of all their burdens
It was a happy day!
As each smiling so broadly
Placed there burdens on the tree
Then they thought for just a while
And they began to see.
As each the truth did hit them
More restless did they get
At least they knew their burdens
So each with no regrets
Did race back to that trouble tree
To grab what they had hung there
The Buddha smiled good humoredly
He had made them all aware.
29 July 2013 @ 1805hrs.
Jesus Is the Best Thing That Happened to Me!
Jesus is the best thing that happened to me!
He loves me so much! It’s plain to see!
Jesus has provided everything I need, to get tough!
If it wasn’t for him…
I don’t know what I’d do!
Jesus has come, that I might life so abundantly!
He’s given me all I need… Most assuredly!
He does for me, what nothing in this world, could ever do!
And completely understands,
everything I go through!
He brings his peace, hope and a blessed satisfaction!
I can have fellowship with him! A “heavenly interaction!”
He can restore what the enemy has stolen and taken away!
He brings a true meaning! And has changed me today!
I’m very thankful! For all that he’s provided!
I’m going to live for him!
This has already been decided!
Thank you Jesus! My lord and my best friend!
You’ve done so much for me!
Over and over again!
I praise your name! And want you to know…
I’ll tell others of your goodness…
Wherever I go!
By Jim Pemberton
Was it enough or was it too much?
Sometimes too fast but always too slow!
God knows that I come with these seeds that grow.
Inside and out I absorb every single touch,
But why should I?
Why should I be the only one that knows?
Stepping through time and sliding back so smooth so I go!
I say I can qualify!
Where was I and why was I there?
Sometimes too obvious but always with doubt!
God knows that I come riding in on a prayer.
I absorb every single touch inside and out,
But why should I?
Why should I be the only one that cares?
Climbing the highest mountains and sliding down so steep but on a dare!
I say I can magnify!
What did I say and what did I do?
Sometimes too quite but always too loud!
God knows that I come with a gleam that shines so proud.
Inside and out I absorb every single touch by you.
But why should I?
Why should I be the only one in the crowd?
Walking on water and walking backwards but at least I know how.
I say I can intensify!
Do I want to or do you need me to?
Sometimes I wonder and sometimes I simply don’t care.
God knows that I come standing on a higher sky of blue.
I absorb every single touch by you inside and out with this glare.
But why should I?
Why should I be the only one with this view?
Up in the clouds and aimless but always led by you!
I say, “I SANCTIFY”!
®Registered: 1997 Ann Rich
CIL MAOLCHEADAIR (Kilmalkedar)
On such an Irish spring and drizzle morn,
she wandered through the graveyard, looking for
the Celtic dream from which her past was born,
and every sight brought her to wanting more;
she dreamt her roots from carvings on a stone
as if she understood each chip as real,
passed down to only her, and her alone,
from pagan worship she could almost feel;
and she could bundle them within her mind
to share with Pennsylvania kith and kin,
perhaps the magic, if still there to find,
would be an understanding where they've been;
and she will burn her candles every night,
hoping Kilmalkedar will make it right.
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet
The silent bell rings in the night,
Calling the devils to kneel to the light,
What once was, becomes no more,
As the light breaks through the open door.
What you think and what you feel,
What you saw and thought was real,
Is now only dust on the road,
The desolate remains of your ancient abode.
The new light is rising on the hill,
The new song is singing down in the well,
The new souls are dreaming of your face,
The new hearts are beating at you pace.
The old ideas and reasons you gave,
Are buried in the tomb and in the grave,
The rotting bone and flesh are gone,
In the morning dew, in the morning sun.
The light shines through the open door,
Casts no shadow on the old dirty floor,
The ancient laws of reason and might,
Crumble to dust in the morning light.
What once was real and certain as rock,
Is now the dream the baby forgot,
The new light coming to wake you my love,
The silent lamb and the flying dove.
more of my poems at :
I know you see me from up there,
from halfway up the steep and twisting lane.
In early half-light as you take your walk
I no doubt seem to loom as you descend,
appear to grow, to rise from earth,
my boxlike rectilinearity,
severe and unadorned geometry,
a silhouette against the solitary sodium source.
I once hosted fiery-throated hymns
from dedicated souls in Sunday best:
“Marchog, Jesu, yn llwyddiannus”,
“O! Iesu mawr, rho d’anian bur” –
voices rich and raised and resonant,
so filled with faith, so gorged with God.
My pitch-pine pews were polished
by coat and skirt and trouser twill.
Abandoned now, unloved, slab-still,
void and stark and desolate,
with quarry-tiled floor that would resound
with joy were anyone to walk upon it,
I present gaping emptiness, a thing felt,
a cave whose darkness, palpable,
is peopled by retreating echoes of my past,
like timorous ghosts far too afraid to speak.
But there is One I must not name
who lodges in my roomy quarters,
cowers within my tight square corners,
seeking shadows when the sun stares in.
I hear Him breathing as
He sweats in His remorse, a thing smelt,
hiding from the accusing gaze
of His forlorn creation.
An earthly existence
A universe beyond my minds, comprehension
Life lessons reviewed
I am not lost, after all!
I am a willing participant
Serving, the Father, of all creation
His son combined, ‘producing life’ as we know it
Representing them, in everything I do
I am nothing, without Love!
My heart full of faith, loyal service I give
Learning how to unconditionally serve, as the Father unconditionally, loves me
Worshipping our Divine Creator’s existence
Choosing to live, moment to moment
Being as one with ‘Our Universal Father’
No physical permanency
My physicality, disappearing
My mortality existence, I let go of
My spirit alive!
‘I am only passing through!’
A unique, experience of mortality
A gift, I am blessed to experience, to live!
Sometimes there is silence,
Sometimes there are words,
Sometimes there is meaning,
Sometimes it's absurd.
Sometimes you are near me,
Sometimes you are far,
Sometimes there is darkness,
Sometimes guided by a star.
Sometimes we are up and
Sometimes we are down,
Sometimes we are slaves,
That wear a holy crown.
Sometimes we are arrogant,
Sometimes we are proud,
Sometimes we are someone,
Lost in the faceless crowd.
Sometimes we are rich and
Sometimes we are poor,
Sometimes we are angels,
Scratching at the door.
Sometimes I'm living and
Sometimes I am dead,
Sometimes there is no thoughts
Turning in my head.
Sometimes looking forwards,
Sometimes looking back,
The circle still unbroken,
The train still on the track.
Sometimes we are caught and
Sometimes we are free,
But we always come back praying,
Under this olive tree.
more at http://labyrinthoflies.com
Copyright © 2013
A New Dawn in His Glory
foretold in a biblical story
Coming for those preparing
skyward we will be starring
Like descending parachutes
sounds of trumpets and flutes
Captivating our hearts
giving us a new start
A New Dawn is coming
listen, nature is humming
Idelology clashing blows
a tale between 2 foes
Revelations foretold a day
when more begin to pray
World events getting crazier
humanity's future hazier
Waiting on ONE to stop this mess
or, were we just another lab test?
SMALL WORLD WATERS... NAZRIEL!
As i sat in a nite club..
sipping sodas as i was too stressed
to enjoy my guinness...with michael powa..
a catch phrase used to advertise
my favorite bottle...
then in walked NAZRIEL
Pretty NATZ.. A nick name...
had a companion... weird..
is an understatement...
no words were needed i..
the eagles blended in..
Nazriel playing intoxicated-
me not buying it
natz... playing with dem pole dancers
natz eyes me..
the eagle folds his arm around her..
protecting pretty natz..
The eagles have landed in our city
i have encountered one too many..
and no one seems concerned...
this one has been around for decades..
lets cal him its-rael
No one knows why the eagles landed
talk of missing Isaiah chapters..
talk of the secret of the seven.. thunders
miracles don't amaze any more
for the eagles have landed...
and sweet NAZRIEL is one of them
by lewis nyaga
UNSUPPORTED CODE We often hear this topic across our nation.
Another person crying; “discrimination.”
In our many attempts to not discriminate.
It seems like it’s God that we seek to eliminate.
It seems like we’ve come up with our own “rules.”
And somehow have turned into a bunch of “fools.”
We accept many perversions of various kinds…
But God himself? We seem to close our minds!
In many of our lives, we’ve “kicked “ him out.
And refuse what he really is about!
The words, “In God we trust...” Our money bears it!
Anything of God? We’re afraid to share it!
It seems like the courts almost say he doesn’t exist!
And have brought much confusion into our midst!
As many say it’s “offensive” to display a cross…
Many godly values have already been lost!
It’s time to wake up America! And begin to see!
The kind of country we’re beginning to be!
A country that’s foundation is getting off course.
Being driven by a wicked and ungodly force!
Out only hope is in God! And him alone!
We must invite him back into our homes!
To God and his word we must hold secure and fast!
He is our only hope that our country will last!
By Jim Pemberton
The signs are here, for all to see,
The thunder clouds, the dying tree.
The shining lights, that draw you near,
Loud heavy music, in your ear.
By word of mouth, or through cyber space,
The hidden pictures, of your face,
The northern lights, are dancing south,
The rumours you hear, by word of mouth.
The sign are falling, from the sky,
Raining stars, on the passers by,
While the battle rages, on underground,
The innocent dying, without a sound.
The cries of heaven, the screams in hell,
That no one hears, down in this well,
The terrible beauty, the open wound,
The innocent babies, in open tombs.
For all to see, for all to hear,
The blind man's painting, the deaf man's ear.
The birds are falling, the fishes drowned,
What once was up, has now become down,
The tender and loving, an empty shell,
The gross and the ugly, now the rallying bell.
The signs are here, for all to see,
Titanic sinking, on a blood red sea.
More poems at http://labyrinthoflies.com
You are called faceless
BECAUSE YOU ARE SHAMELESS
YOUR MURDER AND MAIM
SENT TO THE INNOCENTS
GROWTH OF GERMS
INDEED, YOUR INTERESTS
TO GOD, YOU WEAR FEARLESS
TO EARTH, YOU WEAR BOKO HARAM
YOUR PENULTIMATE RETREAT
INDEED, MEMORABLE HEART HEAT
FORWARD YOUR RETREAT
TO THE SPEARHEAD OR THE GIANTS
OR, DIVULGE YOUR IMAGE
NOT GENTLE BOKO HARAM
UNSUPPORTED CODE What If… Christmas Never Came???
What if Christmas never happened?
What if Christmas never came?
Things around here would be different!
It wouldn’t be the same!
What if the baby Jesus was never born in a manger?
Mankind would be in serious trouble. We’d all be in danger!
If the baby Jesus wasn’t born. There would be no nativity.
We wouldn’t be able to display this during our “festivity.”
It’s almost like this now!
It’s an “ever increasing business.”
It seems like nearly everyone wants
“Christ out of Christmas!”
Why does it seem like Christmas is
losing it’s true meaning?
The very words; “Merry Christmas,”
seem to be quickly disappearing!
Many say; “Happy Holiday.”
They worry they may “offend.”
Having a “holiday” without Christ….
We need to put Jesus Christ back into
our CHRISTmas season!
He is what Christmas is about! HE is the very reason!
May we all take some time to rejoice in our savior’s birth.
May there be shouts of JOY! From the corners of the earth!
Let’s not take Christ out of our joyous celebration!
We need him so much right now!
All over this great nation!
May we bring to him a heart of love
for everything he’s done.
As we bring honor to Christ. God’s precious son!
May we continually offer to him a heart filled with praise!
Not only at Christmas time… But all of our days!
By Jim Pemberton
She washed his feet and dried them with her hair
so the story goes
little man climbed a tree cause he couldn't see
or so I hear
dead man got up and walked around the room
I've been told
deathly ill woman healed by a touch of cloth
way I heard it
wedding going south saved by water into wine
I read somewhere
wild man dipped another man in the river Jordan
it came to me
flea marketers and bake sale vendors cast out
that's my story
rich man rattled the coin box when he put his in
looks that way
he spoke loud and eloquent for all to hear in awe
got his reward
young man nailed to a tree and left to die
way I hear it
three days later he's walking around town
is this possible???