The two kinds of sins are Original and Actual Sins
Original Sin is what we inherit our first parents, Mama Eve, Papa Adam
We are brought into the world with guilt on our soul
Original Sin was transmitted by natural generation to all his descendants
We are cleansed only through Baptism
The other kind is Actual sin
Actual sin is any willful thought, desire, word action or omission forbidden by the law of Eternal God
Chief sources of actual sin are Pride, Covetousness, Lust, Anger, Gluttony, Avarice, Sloth or Laziness
Actual sin or Daily Sin
We are cleansed only by the Sacrament of Reconciliation, Confession or Penance
We must first have the 3 initial sacraments
The 3 sacraments are Baptism, Confirmation, Holy Eucharist
Before the other 4 sacraments
To live in heaven with our Lord
Set me free Lord set me free,
Take this evil I lay with away.
Take this torture turn it astray.
Walk with me just let me be.
Look inside my heart to see,
Erase my mind as I do pray.
Renew my spirit all in a day.
Sign me up for a high decree.
Leave all this as dust in the wind,
Scatter past present and future,
I will not falter nor will I bend,
Send it all away with no suture.
Set me free Lord, take this madness and put it in its place.
I must warn you it wears a mask to cover up its ugly face.
(R) Registered: 2013 Ann Rich
What is man, his flesh got without assent,
Or the broad brushstrokes of his star filled mind.
Neither will sit for another's judgement.
One is chance, the other of boundless kind.
Perhaps man is his actions, though so oft
They go wrong or are unintended acts.
And desires remain surfeit or un-soft
Propel rash deeds, dark thoughts and sordid pacts.
If action alone can not define man
For marred by accident; then is intent
The mark to judge. But intent is more wan
Than acts, for can only be guessed at bent.
What is man, neither flesh nor mind, if not
Whom he loves and for whom his hate is hot.
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
God never turns his back on you,
Even during your darkest hour,
When things may get the toughest in life,
Which make you question,
Whether He really exsist ot not,
But He has never left your side,
And He watches over you always,
During your good times and bad,
For you need to believe in Christ,
To see the light of the gates of heaven,
Which will brighten your everyday,
For you will feel his presence in your life,
Cause He is there to guide you,
All along your way...
Some people say that God does not exist
Because they cannot see his face or hold
His hand. The denial of the atheists,
The Godless ones, should make our blood run cold.
We see the face of God in lightning storms
And recognize his touch in rainbows bright.
The mountains echo his majestic form;
His presence comforts us in darkest night.
We see his teaching in the flowers that grow
And know his truth in every spark of life.
In every laughing child his pleasure shows;
His promise is our strength in times of strife.
The only ones who would Himself refuse
Are those who will not live within his rules.
The generous seas do roam vividly,
And sacred words spoken earnestly.
People suffer and people go to war,
I just hope these words will go afar.
Yesterday I published a FREE book,
Indeed a feat of altruism, no crook!
I suffer in silence in every moment.
I have no money to publish a stunt.
I was just hoping for word-of-mouth
And email propagation as loudmouth.
Book is at: http://bookbooster.com/newage.htm
I accept feedback just at: email@example.com
OFFICIALLY THE MOST ELOQUENT STORY TELLING POETRY BOOK EVER WRITTEN
-ALL NON FICTION- (This spiel typed in the spur of the moment - God Bless you)
Gathered, to mourn in one deathless hour
Fragile, a test to faith's consummate power
Grief, which is stone cast, among five stricken faces
Softened by reverence, and mute, anguished traces
Weightless in her arms, but heavy for the eyes
Devotion anchors deep, painting tears that will not dry
Each pulse that pounds, each gasp one takes,
will rise, then, with awe, as the brush strokes create......
Lost, the desperate world, which honed new beginnings
Shattered, by the cost, as their world had stop spinning
The few souls, who cradle, unable to speak
would renew from a tomb, He would defy and retreat
For those who altered history, Sofonisba paints with eye and ear
Will they stutter, will they falter, or still deny that He appeared?
Submitted for Cyndi's Contest: A Painting....Sofonisba Anguissola, Pieta
In the repository of unlived things,
I find unquenched love,
A tarnished wedding ring,
An old baseball glove,
A half-sketched dream.
The sore sight fills my eye,
An oil-soaked cloth of faith,
Restraint against sin piled high,
A picture of Jesus laid to waste,
So much regret, I begin to cry.
Behold, I see a new start,
An infant’s wiggling toes,
A chest of breath and beating heart,
Courage clamors and fresh breath bellows.
That the brilliance of His majestic ways
and fire that burns from His white-hot eyes
may give their light to space of infinite size
and shine on all Earth's creatures' love and praise;
that the mercy He gives to him that stays
from wicked ways to keep his lips from lies,
for faith and grace to remain pure and wise
may give His Word renewed glory and raise;
that the millennial Kingdom's earthly time
arrives after end times' brief, labor pangs
and saves God's children from sin's filthy grime,
so they that were tempted of Satan's gangs
will live on in glory and in their prime
once Christ defangs the Serpent's deadly fangs!
O God, the pangs are crushing body, soul
And spirit—working deaths where sunlight fades—
My arms are trunks of pain and taking toll,
While tortures, stings, and sickness hauntly raids
To close the Gates of Hell to shut me in,
And heaven bows to greet while Hades seeks
To send The Reaper with his failing grin.
And illness ruins lives while havoc wreaks
The squalored throes of daily living on—
While body wastes away and breath remains
To sing your dirge while I still carry on…
Like trampling cattle trodding broken frame,
I live between the sunshine and the grave—
Like flowers cut and dying in the vase
Was it worth it I say to you my Lord?
The agony and the despair in a group.
Right and wrong define a mega-loop.
Some are enthralled others are bored.
Some balanced to strike a right chord.
You give you take with one big whoop.
I see and I blend like a homemade soup.
I adjust and readjust daily with a sword.
Sometimes I just want to run away,
But where would I go, you’d follow.
I scream kick and shout just to stay.
But then you’ll get way too hollow.
So I am damned if I do and damned if I do not.
So I tip my hat to imbalance and cast you a lot.
© Copyright: Ann Rich 2008
“A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in pictures of silver.”
— Proverbs 25:11 KJV
Break forth in song my dearest love—you have
been chosen for the grace of God to prove
—of what is right and what is wrong—a stave
well wondrous given to your heart—will move
the mountains in your way like garments rent,
to breathe in hope—your eyes will see the truth
in faithful words of love—through heaven sent,
so rare—The Word of God will see us through;
flood waters and the flames may turn to dust.
Our sorrows deep will wander far away;
the songs of desert goats unheard—so must
we toil and worry through the lightened day?
He’ll never leave us nor forsake us—sends
a promise through The Cross which never ends.
July 31, 2013
Holy Holy Holy I must say to all.
Long day hard day I am with you.
Hot day cold day it is for me too.
Days months or years you I call.
You have displayed my visual doll.
Multitudes of truth seeds you grew.
Spoken for as spoken words abrew.
I grant you the light in that dark hall.
Never say never!
Never look back!
I am yours forever!
I am with no lack.
I am always the hands of filters,
Observing my Kingdom Builders.
(C) Copyright 2013 Ann Rich
In the name, blood, wounds and death of Jesus on the cross,
And by his resurrection on the third day,
Jesus, the first born from death,
The only warrior with power that conquered death,
Altar call of all children to the light,
The children of the whole world,
Don’t be deceived by this dark world,
Being promised riches, big houses, big cars,
And the first mission is to kill your parents, next all your relatives,
Welcome to the promises,
Car is an ugliest snake, house is the cage, money works in the dark, hard labor,
There are no real things in the dark work but fake,
If you killed all your parents and relatives,
You will be left with no one to protect you,
And be left with no option but to continue in the dark,
And become the slaves of hard labor of darkness,
But if you run to Jesus, and let Jesus into your heart,
Reading a bible starting by John Gospel,
Making prayer in the name of Jesus,
You become forever free indeed in Jesus name,
And only light will shine on you,
By light you will know and see all tricks of darkness.
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
Have my peccant daydreams seep away
Purged from my mind devoid all delay
Evaporate those thoughts like the mist
Wring as a sponge, oh LORD, with a twist
Have me absorb ideas you adore
Blessed visions soak deep to the core
Living water so pure for my soul
Please, fill me up, each pore, every hole
My thoughts are wrong, so done be your will
Your providence is far greater still
So, God, exchange, my sin with your grace
Each transgression, remove every trace
Though my frail mind compels me to turn
With drowning pain, my life, you did earn.
Hard may be the paths that are given to us
Harder still they may be, when we choose not their way
Yet, to abide to them we shall, always without any fuss
For we are after all lost, blind and we need to find our way!
This way that we do seek, is it not known as the end
The end word known as death, the end of life and love
If death be the end, then pray we do have faith on a ready stand
Of course, life, at the scent of water does evolve!
Holy water, sprouting from the root of mystery
Pray do come and lead us all
Take us there where all is holy
Where always we hear songs of the choral!
Life does not end with death, life gets renewed
In this world, or another, by the Holy One, it is always brewed!
If men all spring from one, as now they claim
new studies prove beyond a skeptic’s doubt,
will those who scoff at God rise up and shout
to argue still with bated breath the same,
or hold their stance within a twisted frame?
Perhaps this news* the devil’s lies will rout
as truth itself slides home with heavy clout,
and fraud or pretense slink away in shame.
Which one of us would snicker up our sleeve,
but hope the world will reason well and long
and cynics ditch their purpose to deceive?
For if by one God has wrought the throng
and through his Son made effort to retrieve,
the premise now for man’s belief is strong.
*National Geographic reported DNA studies which
prove all men descended from one man about 60,000
years ago. Not reported in mainstream media news.
A most wondrous view lies before me,
And to my back; a perilous endeavor
Nevertheless, let my journey commence and my mind be free
From this very moment, will arise cunning most clever
Lo, I have but no other choice,
To take a most literal leap of faith o’er this cliff’s edge
Lest, this fearsome fire may halt at the sound of my voice
And swiftly retreat from my presence on this rocky ledge
Nay, despite my efforts, the fire draws near
Thus I act on my newly-conceived notion
And I fall for an eternity, met with a reality becoming clear;
That perhaps my peradventure has been without merit
For on this day, God saved me from the fire’s taunting gleam
Hence, the Lord patiently waits to fulfill His glorious scheme
In this poem you find me standing alone in the darkness of night. Standing in this same
place while the sun is up would have been of little or no consequence. Somehow darkness
triggers the element of fear in
Me. I become afraid and my imagination begins to play tricks on me.
When the bewitching hour of midnight arrives I begin to imagine that I see weird and
horrible specters made by the nights shadows cast by the wind swept branches of the trees
that encircle me.
In frenzy and close to madness my mind begins to hallucinate. In a trancelike state my
mind thinks it sees three large ghosts. The ghosts are symbols of Mans three greatest
fears: The fear of poverty, The fear of getting old and the fear of dying. The most
destructive of the three (poverty) steps forward. And in a loud voice speaks. She states
that all my fears are two-fold. First, I fear the inevitability of old age and death and
the probability of poverty. That these fears are by my own hand because I cling to
ancestral fears that were and still are a mixture of ignorance and religious fantasies and
the cause of all my dread.
Standing in the silence of the night when
Heavenly sights disappear from my view
I found myself lonely and afraid. Then
As midnight approached the shadows turned to
Horrid, winged specters leaping about me.
I was mesmerized by their ghastliness.
Suddenly there appeared from their midst three
Giant ghosts standing before me possessed.
The largest of the three stepped forward. She
Began to speak in a thunderous voice.
"Your fear is two-fold: You fear what you see,
Us! At the same time your fears are by choice.
You cling to ancestral fears concocted
In ignorance, steeped in religious dread."