THERE HE WAS HOLDING OUT HIS HAND.
God, can I hold your hand and go with you?
My sweet child, it is I who will walk with you now! You walked down my path with and without faith. You took my protection to ease your pain. My shielded wings comfort you during your moments of suffering while your life staggered across the earth... Your love and devotion is what made you strong. Every time your dreams were broken. You managed to build more dreams in their place. You called my name during your happiest and saddest moments. You always ran up to me when you fell behind. Your secrets became our private talks. The key to your heart was always unlocked. I was there during your trials and troubles of tribulations. We could not speak, but it was my light that would not allow you to get weak.
Is this that dream of beauty? The one in the book my preacher spoke of.
Yes! I remember it now it is called paradise. I felt this company once before, Lord.
Many times, I have forsaken this light, and still it never left my door.
I felt it the day I was born, and the day I became baptized in your holy name.
I felt this light before, can you explain it some more?
Lord pleases clarify that day I fell down to my knees and accepted Jesus as my savior?
Every day since, I felt as if you stood away and walked on by, allowing me to face my own failures’. Was my life a waste in this impossible world?"
My child, this is the everlasting light you will feel every time your body is re-born onto a new road. This light never left you.
My sweet child did you not listen, Matthew *19:26* MY SON looked at them and said, "With man this is impossible, but with ME all things are possible. My child you were not searching for the right answers.
My Lord everyone told me if I prayed you would come. Did I not pray right?
My child sometimes your heart asked for more than life itself, which left questions for someone else.
At times how could I answer when you shunned heaven away from your eyes?
The obvious question is whether this is the final immersing of your souls disguises.
Lord, I have other questions to ask.
What should I expect out of my personal sins? My testimonial sits in the palm of your hand.
My mind and my heart's inner core have been wicked since my adolescence days.
How is it that I am in your promise land?
Getting right with me has brought you here!
One more question My Heavenly Father.
Can I see her? I meant, could I see them? My Daughter, Mother's and Sisters~
Thoughts of death mourning a loss,
one after another, like falling hailstones cracking the tiles
of the substance of things not seen but feared. I could care less
God... it's the longest night of my years caught in the toils
of doubts, of despair, of the sound of falling ice
that reverberates inside my faith in sudden slices
and outside this pen for sheep-raising still in fertile soil
I fail to get over the fence without a stile
Impotent to kiss resignation's toes
advocated by those who want my obedience and my tithes at all costs
A version of the interpretation of the oral traditions already translated into lies
Greeks, Romans, Monarchs, Despots, Rulers, Reformists, Stoics...
Impotent to listen to the duty of the silken stile
that pulls my crackling faith into its coils
Impotent to accept sacred writings chosen by lot
Impotent of praying more and thinking less
Impotent to breathe, to see, to walk through wind-blown salt and s i l t
measuring a time ... dark and lost
A profuse bleeding from a ruptured soul refusing to clot
Thoughts of death like tears of ice
when the electrocardiogram yells h h h
e p e p e
l l l p ... Where will be the lice
to suck my sins and tics?
to cough and gag and vomit my unfulfilled temptations into a cist?
My time of death has expired long time ago. Do you noticed it?
do you care about it?
Thoughts of death tickling upon my bare soles
I'll be nobody without a tag swaying from my toe
The night at its farthest point from the Sun and still so close
I need to believe it
God, You need to believe it
I can kill you if my faith is lost
1st place in
When the storm clouds boil around me,
And the lightning splits the sky--.
When the howling wind assails me,
And life's sea is rolling high--
When my heart is filled with terror,
And my fears, I can't allay--
Then I find sweet peace and comfort,
When I simply stop and pray.
When the things of life confound me,
And my faith is ebbing low--
When my trusted friends betray me,
And my heart is aching so--
When the night seems black and endless,
And I long for light of day--
Then I find a silver dawning,
When I simply stop and pray.
There are things beyond the heavens
I can't begin to understand,
But I know that God is living,
And I know He holds my hand.
Yes, I know He watches o'er me
All the night and all the day--
And He's always there to hear me
When I simply stop and pray.
Close your eyes and forget the rain
Dream about the sun and heat
a sunny summer day
Dream of waves who sigh
so quiet on the beach
Swimming naked with the one you love
The dream of happiness
is more than the dream
A dream about strawberries with cream on
Do not forget the roses and violets
that smells so good
Running barefoot in the freshly cut grass
Close your eyes and dream your dreams
Daydreaming as sweet and good
they are secret, I will not share them with anyone
Imagine if life was a dream .....
A wonderful dream
and the world was full of love
and intimacy between all the people on earth
My dreams are made of
hope, faith and love
My dearest Claudia,
For eighteen months, I've been at this Jerusalem outpost.
"Tis you and young Julius that I miss the most.
This wasn't the adventure I set out to seek-
At least, not until this past week'
A local rabbi rode a donkey into town,
While people were throwing palm branches down.
Many proclaimed Him to be their "King."
The Jewish leaders vehemently denied such a thing'
They arrested Him and a riot ensued;
My squad was called in to get the masses subdued.
Back and forth, they sent Him- through several mock trials.
The prisoner maintained His silence all the while.
"He's a traitor to Rome," the priest and leaders cried.
And the crowd wanted Him crucified'
A "Royal robe" they made Him wear
Then His own cross He was forced to bear.
With a thorny crown jammed down upon His head,
It was off to Golgotha He was led.
Lifted up between two thieves,
The day turned black and I wanted to leave'
Then I heard my Centurion say something very odd:
"Truly this is the Son of God'"
Buried in a borrowed grave- as if in a womb-
I and my men guarded that tomb.
Then some time during the middle of the night,
The rock was rolled back 'midst a blinding light'
In the morning some woman came to that "prison,"
But two beings inside said "He has Risen'"
This week's events have so drastically changed my life.
That I was compelled to tell you of them, my beloved wife.
Your Husband Octavius
Arthur Ball (h.S.L.P.)
April 16, 2006
Avenge me not, for death has been a friend
and anger ill befits love's gentle wine.
All lovers true or not, must part, ascend:
rise, or fall, as life's trials their paths assign.
Still as bone, white as winter's snow my skin
by candle light, one can almost see inside.
My hair a gossamer halo, so thin,
my eyes, my blue eyes, still contain the tide.
I am your fair Persephone, your wife, bride,
and soon I will return to you Hades
to rise born on cherry blossom tides;
when in the earth, I can no longer bide.
Bless gentle Thanatos for his death sublime
and Hypnos, as in sleep, I do recline.
Within her frail shell, death abides
through the final hours, I remain by her side
fearing a forsaken place of webs that lie in rows
of haggard fields where everything forbidden grows
surrounded by caverns of mortal's deserted bones
she faintly whispered, "I want to go home"
Death awakens the wandering soul, affliction steps away
vanishing through corridors numbered by years of pain
yet, illuminates all delightful wanderings in between
eternity tugs at her robe to calm the heavy laden breaths
into softer mournful moans, she'll acquiesce
Within a midst of welcoming hosts rapt in lucent haze, hallowed air
transcends her delicate last breath, then earthly slumber ends
her requiem, immersed through immortal gates
never to be cast into a cold stone grave
Karen Anglesey 4/29/13
Leaning against the ropes, eyes swollen half closed
Its been a long fight....
Blood dripping from a dislocated jaw
Body beaten and bruised; taking a few more blows
Crowd screaming; colourful figures; cloudy sight?!
Knocked down a few times but, not counted out yet
Not yet; still standing to catch a second wind.... ~
My foe is fierce and relentless, the best in the world
This worlds, undisputed heavyweight champ
At least over most of Humanity; never lost a fight to the faithless!?
Been the prince of his ring for thousands of years....
Almost had them carry me out; flat upon my back, in the early rounds
Until the undefeated “One,” showed up and volunteered to become
“My Corner ^Man.” ~
Been doing somewhat fair since yet, still, a tad bit fuzzy in my head....
Absorbing blows amid a fight like this but, I Am, still standing
And I get my punches in also; sometimes, I even win a round or two?!
My corner Man said; “The Real Champ.” ~
"Just wait for the right time, he'll open up, and when he does
Then, put him on his back; hit him with a left and a quick right
Another left another right and then, use your cut....
....I promise you, I shall gladly count him out, for you ~
Just hang on, we've got him, right, where, we want him!?"
....“The Title ^Fight”....
You gave Your life,
You took my place.
I should have died,
On Calvary's tree,
But You stepped in,
And died for me.
What can I say?
What can I do?
To show my love,
To You my Lord,
My Savior King,
For becoming my
Here is my heart,
Here is my soul,
Come Lord Jesus,
The old is gone,
You've made me new.
You died for me,
I'll live for you.
back field in motion
Chose, chose, live grow leave! GO!
Leapt from heaven's gold
Jump started into a human mold
White clapboard poverty with tiger lily blooms,
blueberry rake poverty woolen looms.
Riffs of Emerson, Whitman, Longfellow dawns,
mothers’ hazel eyes, father Davidesque form,
chosen to drive twixt a Jew and a screw.
Magnet of lunacy...
Tumbled like an agate into the stream of life
part of the dream lesson
Abuser of power, one who had once roared,
Eve shaped now, weak and mewling
between the weeds of woe.
Care taken by lovers torn.
Watched over by pedophile uncles.
Befriended by lewd Father of sons.
Adult child, searching amongst the Word
for the Word is God and GOD …
There are so many words
Root ripped scenes from beauty to horror
Shiksa* taunts seep in with the smell of borsch.
A pumpkinseed amongst the pricks of Brooklyn
A wild rose planted in the asphalt soil
Jew’s bop to a Dago harmony,
bagels, bialys and the French twisted strands
of great grandma’s hair.
Clipped, stripped of family shoved whole
into yet another new mold.
True believers, ah yes, fanatics all.
The struggle to survive whole healthy
dipped in, dripped in, a bath of acid and thorazine.
Polish priests pedal platitudes to the sisters of St. Joseph
behind the gilded glory of the Church.
Raped by trust and betrayed by lovers,
a rose married to a prickles thorn,
so empathy is gained, and a healer born.
Metal must be formed in a crucible of fire
A healer can not be born without tasting the pyre.