I witnessed a body lying
On the dead earth while formless and dismal
A mire swollen and dying
From this body arose a child so small
Out of the flesh stinking of gall
A child whiter than a pearly lily
Who flew into paradise tranquilly
The foulness of flesh remained not
The child’s pureness left the world’s morbilli
For water and fire begot
Inspired by a passage from "Revelations of Divine Love" by Julian of Norwich, in the long text version.
October 4 Praises to God Bible Meditations Based on Matthew 8-10
Key Verse – Matthew 8:3 And Jesus put forth his hand, and touched him, saying, I will; be thou clean. And immediately his leprosy was cleansed.
PRAISE BE TO GOD FOR CLEANSING AND HEALING US
Praise be to God for cleansing and healing us from our:
Frustration-futility toward His forgiveness
Filthiness-fever toward His fellowship
Fret-faltering toward His faithfulness
Foulness-flu toward His fruitfulness
Fear-flight toward His freedom
Matthew 9:22 Praise be to the Lord for comforting us:
Challenging us with His call of courage
Caring for us by His compassion-calmness
Correcting and chastising us by His counsel
Converting us along His command for change
Cheering us amidst our consecration-cleansing
Matthew 10:37 Praise be to the Saviour
for enabling us to love Him more than:
Position, propped by provisions
Possessions, propelling prosperity
Preferences pretending to be precious
Priorities against His precepts and principles
Progress in our passionate prized performances. Amen!
October 4, 2024
chains of velvet
you bring to me
I awake
beholding the strange and perverse
and the familiar foulness
of your words
as you sting and bite all the way down my throat
until I forget the words
and seek them yet again
and seek them once more
until it kills me again,
before I can feel it
struck into stillness,
before my time,
before I'm old and ill,
all of my sweet words are lost,
and yours...
...bitter.
I have sinned, friend.
But my sin is not a God
To smother my Divinity.
Innate, alive
God writhes within me,
A burning fire
A tripartite light.
How low I sank
I may not tell
But in the muddy
Fires of Hell
Is not my destination.
I drank from an evil cup
And yet
God took me to his bosom
And I Am transfigured.
Me, a Sinner.
A broken piece of pottery
That can no more
Hold water
And yet
He mendeth it
And makes it His Abode
Now what GOD
Would live in a broken teapot?
Nay, MENDED!
The God of very Gods,
The Son of Suns.
Behold He is I Am
And I Am
Is alive forevermore within me
He shall yet win his way through my Heart,
And I will be alive in HIM
Forever.
SELAH!
He is an occupant of a room damp
And dependent on a rejected lamp:
The worst so far in their camp …
A room often not illuminated
But in it plants still germinated,
Selecting peeping spots in a cemented floor,
Daringly doing so back to the room’s door.
The room’s nearest neighbor a smelly dump,
To many microbes their Releasing Pump
And, sure, the cause of The Man’s mumps
And as possibly his torturing lumps:
A man Hunger has been kicking his rump
And readying for a final slump …
But wither did The Man this foulness pick
And could Hunger make one licked plates still lick?
Nothing like an answer from Interviewed Nick
And rather a rude one from Starving Dick.
I recognize you in your entrancing diversity.
Float through the scent when the sun is sparky.
To plunge while hanging in the air on your head.
Each magnificent blossoming plant in the glade.
A fresh term starts as the former one withers away.
I'm vile by your demise, which neared firmly decay.
Sorrowful, Bees vociferate within the messy mass.
She is undeniably distraught as lies down to pass.
Why, goodness, you coerce this man in any way?
Reckless and ruthless, lacking care as the world decay.
Foulness and war are inciting Earth-wide total warming.
Wrecking the planet's core for our honey bees killing.
I'm sitting down now, fearful it will strike you again.
Your richness is valued by both lords and beggars, zen.
Nevermore will you trill in the hills and meadow.
Chimes won't loop during weddings, although now.
A world nearly breakdown, brought around by man.
Man-made droughts, lack of fertilization, and famine.
Written: February 12, 2022
Strange how weather can affect our moods
From foulness to upbeatness, you walk out in the nude
Perhaps a bit extreme
Well you know what I mean
Affects people differently, you may appear unglued
Memorial Day 2016
Written: by Tom Wright
Each Memorial Day is like a magnet
That holds captive, my thoughts,
Of those before me who didn’t return,
And to those who returned
That war has left un-erasable footprints on.
War has a way of accomplishing that,
For there is no reversal of things done, seen,
Or clearing your nostrils of the foulness of war;
?Let nothing besiege your lame love
Nothing of that sort that's perennial and abiding
That is sure and true and sweet
Like the passion of our archetype martyrs of love
Let nothing serve you as an anchor for your putrid ambience
Obsequieses and ballads and dirges sung by the devil's choir
Are your portion of a serenade of chivalry
Love the one without love and die so
So come from the ascendance of the glorious cosmos
And rub thy foulness with the greed of lucifer
For it is befitting for your souls to love the way love is bought
Not the way love is worth
STINGRAY
She took you for a ride on the wild side
Taking you through bushels and thorns
You endured the pain of the splinter and shrubs
Swerving through highways and by ways
U-turning to where disaster resides
She played foul
Destroyed all things beautiful
She’s unworthy and incapable of love
Her resolution was prostitution
Joy was her pain
Coddling crack…fondling cocaine
Stingray flowed through your urine
Foulness exhumed from her bob wired lips
Soiled and contaminated love endurance
Of this alleged relationship
Jaws of death clutching your humanity
Finalizing your mortality
Destruction ahead…your totality
You held on to the baggage
Of your broken heart and shattered dreams
And then to me you brought the excrement
Left over’s from your damaged relationship
This being why
I reside in this demise
You should have buried the bones
That destroyed your soul
Now you’ve compromised
The road less traveled of you and I
This morning’s run began so benign and gentle,
Yet 15 minutes later deep feelings were unhinged,
Confused, I recalled my latest meals,
Whilst my insides were impinged.
Aghast, I sensed the futility,
Of my plight against this ongoing urge,
With jalapeno pizza making itself heard,
From the inside there came the surge.
Now time was of the essence,
Yet speed of movement constrained,
The last few furlongs were in angst,
As the feelings barely waned.
Thoughts waivered to hideous options,
On the beach there were few souls about,
If this continues to get much worse,
I may have to leave behind my own brown stout!
Alas I made my entrance home,
Victoriously casting the bathroom door aside,
This moment had been forever in the making,
Yet now all was forgiven, as the foulness did but glide.
Music… Liquor…
Make you happy…
I can see in your eyes
Laughing in the alcohol foulness
Enjoying in the dimness
You can enjoy only in darkness
Cannot face the daylight
To cover up
A fresh scar on your forehead
That happened while you were working
With your former fellow labors.
Music… Liquor…
Make you happy…
In your new high society
Believing is the true happiness
But you have to hide out the daylight:
The real wisdom!
Memorial Day 2016
Written: by Tom Wright
Each Memorial Day is like a magnet
That holds captive, my thoughts,
Of those before me who didn’t return,
And to those who returned
That war has left un-erasable footprints on.
War has a way of accomplishing that,
For there is no reversal of things done, seen,
Or clearing your nostrils of the foulness of war;
Three monkeys of wicked,
this paint on my wall.
Each one of my mirrors,
watching me fall.
Back into something,
true once planned before.
With nothing to run to,
I walk out the door.
Step into darkness,
last breath of the night.
Exhale the foulness,
blinded by light.
Confused in this sorrow,
confested in rest.
Till judgement is borrowed,
I'll scratch out my test.
Inch out my six feet,
one spoon at a time.
Shovel,
to shovel,
to shovel,
not hurt,
Asleep forever,
incaptured in the dirt...
In A Dark, Dark Room
Tormented in a pitch black room--
Smelling the foulness in the ground;
Flickering shadows in the gloom
That feed upon me, all around
Bound hand and foot, with neck exposed,
Tormented in a pitch black room,
I only slept, when coffins closed,
With nightmares of impending doom.
I heard above a muffled boom
My eyes assaulted by the light
Tormented in a pitch black room
Never more will I fear the night
I signed on with Van Helsings Free,
Hunting vampires from tomb to tomb.
I rescue others, lost like me--
Tormented in a pitch black room.
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