The mythic gods are capricious
They stalk and torment mortal men
Demanding gifts and offerings
In exchange for what they promise.
But the true God is a giver
Showering men with gifts galore.
First, he puts breath in their nostrils
Then provides them with daily bread.
He’s the one who gives them knowledge
and the skill to earn a living.
Strength to labor, health to enjoy
all the pleasure that life affords.
When the farmer sows his plowed fields
God is the one who sends the rain
and the sun that makes crops ripen
yielding bounties for our bellies.
God makes the wombs of women fertile
so they can conceive and give birth
to the beings that replenish,
the human race, on planet earth.
When you enjoy nature’s beauty,
Just remember, God created
all the wonders that you behold
Are a gift from God, your maker.
After mankind disobeyed him
bringing sin and death on humans
God sent his Son down to this earth
to give his life to ransom us.
There is no God like the true God
who gave his life for his servants.
God the giver, bid you follow,
give him your being in return.
The sun’s pure light rebukes my dark despair,
reminding me another day is near.
As I deeply breathe in God's fresh air
I meditate on things that I hold dear--
Sunrise on a hill.
Music's melodies.
Family and friends.
Thoughts that make me smile.
The rising sun affords renewal's gift;
another chance to think, to love, to dream;
for just beyond the shadows of my mind
the sun’s pure light rebukes my dark despair.
Of love Devine
Now a soured story
Of love regrets that
Storys thyn
Mercy me :my rightous glory
Oh then shall sing of
Love Devine
With to one, ah one sided
Story
Love of Christ, thy a world
Subblined
Generations sing this story
Our Christ has risen from
the grave
Toils I make in all his glory
Some may say I am a
Bittered slave
Rewards from God
In all my glory
My descipns, now
all behave
Jesus , Jesus, Precious Jesus
The rich , the poor all
Behave
Jesus, Jesus, oh Precious Jesus
the miracles , Christ rose
From the grave
Have within thy triumph stories
Glory to thy God Devine
Yet ye speaketh with Satan's
Glory
Oh Folk of Christ might us all
Behave
Jesus, Jesus, ah steadfasted
Glory, victory Christ rose from
the grave
Jesus, Jesus, our triumph and
Glory,
Precious Jesus we all behave!
Oh dove of Christ complete thy story
Mire as I knowest not details
My affords of peace and glory
May off end the peace I seek
Jesus, Jesus of peace and glory
Seek thyn end in peaceful ways!
I love the word humankind because of the message it creates.
There is no prejudice in that word…it does not discriminate.
It affords every human being upon this planet Earth
the same meaning…the same value…the same importance…the same worth.
It means no matter how we try to separate ourselves….
what arbitrary labels we’ve assigned…
we will always be a member of the same…one…humankind.
When I see humans who by other humans are mocked, abused and cursed
I wish those people doing the mocking would realize we are all humans first.
I love that humankind is a compound word…
with two definitions to keep in mind…
one…reminding us we are all human…
the other…reminding us to be kind.
There is a distinction between the two words…
and that distinction is the key…
Human is who we are…kind is who we ought to be.
Which means the message in that compound word is a simple one…
there is always room for growth…
and when it comes to humankind…
we should strive hard to be both.
I'm faced with debility, a deluded idea
that i can make a change by doing nothing at all,
staying the course. No matter how
this my effect my fate.
there are visions of delirium
that come from a life of captivity.
It's not the loneness that kills you.
It's the echos, scratching voices
that cling to the walls refusing
to be understood. Poor calamities.
My disposition affords me no ignorance
at this point. My days, not a night's rest.
My eyes are darkened so that nothing escapes
they want for nothing in-between fleeting blinks.
relief, light just something to look forward to a vision.
A vision that's not obscured by ego or materialistic lament.
But one that's full of love and understanding
the resolution of the full picture.
The trees remember what the axe forgets.
The mirth of lovers romping on the loam.
The light that filtered through in golden nets,
and beasts that roamed for shelter in the gloam.
A broken branch still weeps for a birdsong.
Its tears of sap, the proof of unseen scars,
that cling to echoes hoping to prolong,
a splintered life among the fallen stars.
The oak that watched the centuries pass by,
now chopped in grief no landscape should endure.
The magpies’ songs sound as a craving cry.
Yet, their sad thrill affords a scant succour.
The chainsaws wailed the way sad mothers moaned.
while sawdust stacked up high like guilt disowned.
“Come one, come all!”
The hawker summons
Try your luck
On the unmoored Ferris wheel
Hurl a dart
At the Kewpie dolls
Win one for the lady
To consummate the deal
(Chorus)
Intruders in the festival
Outsiders at the gates
Nothing like a carnival
To bring up dormant hates
Where the pavement meets the grass
Behind the stand of funnel cakes,
Someone's getting hornery
Their pants down at their feet
This balloon-tank life
Is more than I can take
This Friday night special
Affords me no relief
(chorus)
Prizes, prizes, and more prizes
Mustachioed lady dons disguises
The smell of ether and saw dust
A dead roller coaster under rust
They say life is a funhouse
That explains why everyone is so ugly
A grotesque face in a curvy mirror –
A cotton-candy bed for an endless nightmare –
It’s carnival time, again.
Thought On Choices
Miracle Man
2/24/2025
Once time has passed it doesn't return,
we’ve only past to recall and yearn.
When chosen wisely along the way,
“what if’s” can’t control our thoughts today.
We've only one shot to get life right,
so do what is required, day or night.
Life affords us no chance to rehearse,
that untaken path might have been worse,
I have found that meditation
Helps with the quiet you hope to find
It affords one the solitude
In the sanctuary of your mind
Some may travel the astral plane
Some may scoff at such ability
For the enlightened, come rest your head
On a pillow of tranquility
Oh we righteous striving to cease being sinners
Do we fight with the aim of being winners
When the fight goes on and on
Seemingly a curse on every eon
That to find earthly favor and treasure
The upright endure labour and pressure
Pressing with weariness and attrition
Aiming to edge us out of culture and conviction
Make hard the good and easy the evil
That the ungodly may be termed civil
Sight is easy but faith is best
So shall the Christian enter into rest
The battle belongs to the Lord
His Majesty and Might that we cannot afford
Affords us to be still and know
As He bolsters our faith and makes a public show
For us and for those who ask “Where is your God?”
And so are we comforted by His staff and rod
That ye shall stand and witness His deliverance
And the testimony always lace your utterance
K. Muitherero
soft, yet ...
like a breath of Noshaq
you are gone in a whisper
bound for some dreamy realm (imagining)
where exquisiteness affords you
a throne in Valhalla …
you dance among the frosted peaks
like Misha with the Mouse King
prancing on a puff of wint'ry wind
yearning for the bloom
of early Spring
the nuzzle of a warm nose
or the easy gift
of a frozen lake of swans
hush, you ...
about your business
secret stories you tell to the mountain
of visceral attentions, keen
wondrous things that we lesser creatures
will never be privy to -
things that you find your common bidding
but that fools like me -
wholly taken with sublime form
and ghostly airs -
find spellbinding ... breathless
enchanting ...
you are a feral phantom
demon AND deity of a covert kingdom
I am cursed to only conjecture on
or put to inadequate word ...
a magical dominion of
deliberate and brutal elegance
that has graced me with but a glimpse
a rare, tender, precious instant
blessed by the substance of a moment
far too beautiful to ever
capture.
Use Time Expediently
Written: by Miracle Man
5/13/2024
Yesterday’s are always unforgiving,
for hourglass sand can’t defy gravity.
Thoughts should be on time we’re living,
we shouldn’t live life in depravity.
We cannot alter the hands of time,
nor learn what amount remains.
But know it shortens with each clock chime,
and once used, affords us no refrains.
Live within your means
Just as your looks are within your genes
Drop not your chins
For other’s surpassing sheens
Play not another man’s game
For it affords him glory and fame
It’s a sure way to suffer waste and shame
When you forego what was always in your name
Your call proudly bear
Though applause be scarce and rare
Brace, endure and dare
Be proven and never have to swear
Walk thy pace
Show thy face
Make your case
Firmly and with grace
You are with beginning and with end
And ye are rendered to depend
Though ye are free to attack or defend
Of your frailties you cannot pretend
However the wind blows
Wherever the river flows
How sun shines and moon glows
Only God knows
K. Muitherero
Get It Right
Miracle Man
4/18/2024
After the final chapter of life is written,
Many will judge us better,
or worse than perhaps we were.
To those that we may have aggrieved
there will be a time of forgiveness maybe.
To others, a time to feel relieved.
Time spent self forgiving is not enough,
We must repent for our shortcomings in life.
Then we’ll know that all is right, and God is pleased.
But ultimately, on that day, the judge we face,
will be one who makes only just and righteous decisions.
Judgment Day affords no pardons or paroles.
Revelation 20:12. KJV
“And I saw the dead, small and great, stand before God; and the books were opened: and another book was opened, which is the book of life: and the dead were judged.
The boomeranging echo
deafening to receive
retro rockets smoking with the effort to retrieve
What dignity affords
Approaching the singularity
Where mathematics misbehave
Infinitely distorted space and time discovers I am brave
For this the final frontiers inimitable calling to me softly astral plane
Rosie the robot
Taking on a life of her own
Worlds beyond comprehensive control boweavil seeking her home
54321 Houston we have lift off
Winging through the atmosphere this star dust studded loam
Made for growth this rootless vine ideal it seams to roam
Nomadic maiden trying to ignite fire with sodden sticks
In a van down at the river
Still up to your old tricks
This hardwired struggle release
Return oh Viking warrioress
You won this fight at birth
Now sail with pride this prairie schooner when you return in peace
Rest my sweet Rest
For you are lightyears or a softly spoken word away
Prepare for your reentry
at last
Your coming home
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