Heaven invisible and holy.
1 Cor. 2:9,10; Rev. 21:27.
¦¦¦ eye hath seen, ¦¦¦ ear hath heard,
¦¦¦ sense nor reason known,
¦¦¦¦ joys the Father ¦¦¦¦ prepared
¦¦¦ those that love the Son.
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ good Spirit of the Lord
¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ heav'n to come;
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ glory in his word
¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ guide us home.
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ the joys above the sky,
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ peace;
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦
¦¦¦ see or taste the bliss.
¦¦¦¦¦ holy gates ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ obtain admittance ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ followers of the Lamb.
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ Father's book of life,
¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ their names are found;
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦
To tread the heav'nly ground
(Blackout of Hymn 105 by Isaac Watts)
The reason I can’t use drugs,
Is because even when sober,
I find reality,
So unrecognizable from fantasy.
Unprovoked, your image emerges,
That light beam of a smile,
A face I can’t stop staring at,
Even when I’m kissing it.
I’m really not one to lust (lies),
But I hope for a feeling more meaningful,
Still, WOW! What a sweet small of a back,
My hands are forever grateful.
I am writing this, really, because I feel stuck,
Because attempting to move deeper,
Is a gamble with luck,
It's a contest with option A who hovers around you af.
It's a demanding of affection,
An admittance to needing your attention,
A hoping to adhered expectation,
And disgustingly open communication.
I can’t have that,
I was gonna be a bad this year,
As red as I wanted to get this month,
I'm saving my tear.
spirit eternal, caged in feeble form
remains shrouded under a thought form cloud
silence and stillness invokes a bliss storm
exhuming false ego that once stood proud
its admittance thereafter disallowed
that thus as pure awareness self-aware
with the heart of God we seamlessly pair
If this G.O.D. is real, then it’s only a matter of time
when we’ll find out if we, mere humans, are worthy
Do we have what it takes to even be considered
for membership? Or must we wander into the Twilight Zone?
Have we developed the proper qualifications
for admittance into the Order?
G.O.D. is constantly intervening
One way, or another
Be it by direct contact - an Angel's voice in the clouds
or secondhand news like the Bible (but It's Good News at least!)
or a crash landing in someone’s backyard (like Roswell)
Why talking snakes or burning bushes
are not a sure sign of probable insanity
One can only imagine
There is so much mystery to be had
Perhaps, it’s time to embrace life by the bells
Even gawk at the enormity of our predicament
It’s time to put aside our petty differences
I'm raising my hand in hopes of being chosen
Because, in my heart of hearts, I know
We may not be the only species
being considered by the G.O.D.
Down the corridors of mortal existence
He pursued me without ceasing,
Never yielding in his search of the lost,
Nor flinching from the wounds he carried
To gain admittance to my broken heart.
Out of a love beyond finite understanding,
He poured his abundant grace
Like a cascading fountain,
Showering me to cleanse and heal.
He gave himself for me,
When he brought his heavenly kingdom
To reign within, where
Once I ruled in my life.
Nothing compares to the mystery
Of God's holiness being implanted
In this empty vessel
Because of the sacrifice of one pure Man
Upon a cross of guilt and shame.
I can only surrender to his invitation,
Knowing I am known
Since before the dawn of creation -
Made in his perfect image,
Now restored in gold.
If by thought, word or deed
I mar the redeemed body,
I am impelled to confess
Before him, who stands in my defence,
Since he has atoned for all my sin.
At peace in the presence
Of him, who is the Prince of Peace,
I look to a time out of time
When I will be in eternal glory
To bow before him as Lord of lords
And King of kings -
My brother and friend.
God is not a cliche,
but a derivative of historical man's interpretation
via ancient civilizations' understanding
as to what a 'deity'
symbolic model
that they had extrapolated
for the mere reason of
controlling the masses
by undergoing thorough
the guides and, or guise
known as
"centralization of ideology."
Easy if you got a book
like a Bible,
or a Koran,
or a Torah,
etc.
Egypt had Ra,
Romans had Jupiter,
Greeks had Zeus,
Norsemen had Odin
and American Indians according to their tribes
and Hawaiians had them too
our's was Kane
Thanks to the missionaries,
who had brought the 'g'od fact into perspective,
via,
the capitalization factor.
In my view,
'tis a futile attempt of
The Early Churches
to part WAY
what I--
and the silent,
have known ...
in the aforementioned.
It was part of my thesis
for Theology Admittance
when I was 16,
extra points for raw concept
methinks ethnic bias--Hawaii College.
Easy with my Mom, ...
"Just 'mum' on that subject son."
To those
who gave up everything
they knew, they lived, they loved,
To give me
my Today
my American day:
Were that small
leaking stinking wooden ship
sailing today
bound for America,
And they be
crowded on the bow
watching in great anticipation
as an unknown skyline
emerges from the mist...
What would they see?
A gate across the waters...?
Signage saying
No Admittance.
No immigrants allowed.
And a statue weeping.
Gentle rain, soothing, calming
A weary soul, a mind who is silent
Whispering hope, kindness - empathy
Tenderness stirred with the sigh of wet
Whims, inspiring the serenity within
The feeling of peace – wisdom’s hint
Soft rainfall, comforting, quieting
Like a still, cool smile from the heart
Who knows that real love is alive
Inside the one who knows Him, the light
The Savior who wipes away each tear
With the same hand that lingers
Inside the song of rain lulling the soul
To listen to the faithful prayers
From those who know His ways
Relaxing raindrops, arousing joy
Where there was once a darkness
Now lives the moment of anticipation
Promising the spirit – reassuring
So that His love fills this expression
Creation’s admittance that even
Showers hold the smiles of a King
The Prince of peace brings peace
To every creature, each creation
Who believes He is the Son – the
Truth who brings us out of darkness
With grace that frees, mercy
That believes He truly is the reason
For believing – the reason for worship
The reason – for the praise that … Even the rain can’t help offering!
Afternoon Hiatus
Counting footsteps at dapper dawn’s increased insistence
As flurries of minutes in perpetual movement binds hands
To a spinning roulette of prioritized importance
Motivating motives of revelations demand admittance
And attention’s effervescent energy
Like the ordered notes in a music box rebellion
That winds down when solitary sol begins to slide
Past the apex of day’s light that tumbles
Toward the waiting, wandering, sea’s vertical vortex
In long beams touching yawning midafternoon
Begging the tattered taskmaster time
Sit down!
Be still!
In china cups from time before
Savor the pearls of tawny topaz perfume
Carried from exotic mountain slopes
Amber ambrosia steeped in afternoons long passed
To pause
Pushing back on the tempo of time’s insistent intervals -
To disconnect in soaring sighs
Of an afternoon holiday in hiatus.
1-29-21
Contest: Hiatus
Sponsor Chantelle Anne Cooke
As contracting fearful thoughts creep in
we look at the ego urgings
with astonishment being of foreign origin
illusionary images spewing
Thought forms that we allow admittance
signal correspondent affinity
for porous emptiness of joyous innocence
throbs with bliss in continuity
10-September-2020
Mystery Seeds
Uninvited to my garden party -
Skepticism abounds
At faces hidden by woody capes
Maybe innocence masked in suspicion
Absent an invitation – party crashers
Of unknown origin
And unknown certification;
Weed or wildflower –
Herb or herbaceous horror –
Maybe alien blooms born on a meteor
No toasts of welcome in dewy nectar
By garden residents -
Only side winding glances
Born of dubious -
Unwelcomed arrivals
With no return address
Arouse qualms growing like rosebush suckers
No RSVP for surprise attendees
Asking admittance
When curiosity stands up waving
Told “Sit down!”
While walking to the trash.
I missed the Mystery Seeds contest by a couple of minutes! Just wanted to share the results from this fun contest theme.
Mystery Seeds
Uninvited to my garden party -
Skepticism abounds at faces hidden by woody capes
Masked in suspicion
Without an invitation – party crashers
Of unknown origin – not certified
Weed or wildflower – herb or herbaceous horror –
Maybe alien blooms born on a meteor
No toasts of welcome in dewy nectar by garden residents -
Only sideways glances born of dubious -
Unwelcomed guests – qualms growing like rose suckers
No RSVP for surprise attendees asking admittance
When curiosity stands up waving
Told “Sit down!”
While walking to the trash.
Thought forms ripples appear when in stillness we meditate
Bubbles gaining admittance owing to our childlike receptivity
Yet ferality disintegrates automatically unable to resonate
At vibrations of Ohm with which we are in flowing connectivity
As we be to become the is-ness of bliss in exploding rapture
Our presence in time dissolved is self existent Absoluteness
The mind body interface of Self recedes as a mere caricature
We are as we are in seamless equivalence as the That Oneness
Our innocence of being-ness just is unseeking of any coordinate
Movement of attention is among layers of The Divine Love pulsation
As formless awareness we yet feel lifetrons within form celebrate
As we are and be in resonation with the omnipresent Ohm vibration
Such is the unending continuum
Of our stillness attention pendulum
"We don't see things as they are, we see them as we are." -Anaïs Nin
Comprehensive thoughts arrive in the dark as we, unlit
keep pace like sleepwalkers in a world of drum and jangle
we never get close to the admittance of what we feel
long winter buffs and isolation
what are we made of,
wood ?
Pinnacles of surprise are set in motion
from the moment we perceive ourselves in others
the precious pursuit of company arrives,
at friendship's door
Through grace and restitution,
everything can be understood;
All embracing views set through enlightened souls
we are all Columbuses of this world
forever searching for each others border,
what are we made of ?
blood and vein .
Jan. 30, 2020
You want to define Poetry,
behind the safety of your bars
Open the door to your cage,
a world awaits, whose feathers tar
Dusty journals and how-to books,
no longer serve you here
The price of your admittance,
an acknowledgement of fear
With words only as strong
as the impression they leave
And feelings only as sacred
—as memory retrieves
(Seattle Washington: March, 2017)
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