Long Fearful Poems
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...Let’s also consider the question:
Who benefits from this nonsense?
It’s usually the powerful,
in business and government.
Businesses like the status quo,
thrive on a predictable state,
cry ‘hate speech’ at the competition
so they don’t lose their market-stake.
But government if far, far worse,
their power their great addiction,
fearful that someone speaking out
could see all of this come undone.
Corrupt ones, in particular,
know that losing may cost them their neck,
scream ‘hate speech’ at the honest ones
to keep all resistance depressed.
Worse still they all come to believe
they’re kings above the hoi polloi,
aristocrats above mere men.
though they don’t dare to announce this,
thanks to ‘hate speech’ they don’t have to!
Just claim that your words are ‘harmful,’
censor all other points-of-view,
all while claiming to protect right,
the great irony in all this;
there is no such thing as hate speech,
you’re scum if you think that there is.
And when you get right down to it
the mere concept of hate speech is flawed,
there is a reason the founders
put free speech above force of law,
since anything a person says
can offend somebody out there,
offense is taken, never given,
you must control your own despair.
Since is we can what some might hate
we soon would have no speech at all,
and we have inborn rights to speak,
so silencing us isn’t your call.
It’s just a part of adult life,
dealing with what others might speak,
because you’ll face this all your life,
this world wasn’t made for the weak.
Even when we heard others say
something that comes off as pure sh-t,
we may not ever quite agree,
but must stand for their right to say it.
If you cannot accept that fact
then a childish mind have you,
and I’ll pray that you learn quickly,
since you’ve much catching up to do.
If you know all that I’m saying
and still suppress, freedom be damned,
then you’re just the latest tyrant,
and in a just world would be hanged.
We needn’t protect speech we like,
we protect all or we’re amiss,
there is no such thing as ‘hate speech,’
you’re evil if you think there is.
Part II
Let me write this prayer in my own words as I type.
God, I pray that your love protects my future wife
I pray that she does not have to suffer in her current state of mind and life.
To me, she is beautiful and brings peace in the present, and I believe she will continue to bring peace in the future.
Her past is not my concern as I see her in the present as the destiny of the future, to your will
To amplify my prayers for her, I will give up anything that hinders my ability to think clearly.
If she is not the one, then I know that I only want her because of my love for her.
If we are only meant for a season, then I ask that you bring her to someone else who loves her as much as I do.
Each night and day we speak, it is the night and day in the opposite medium.
We are the first and last thoughts and conversations with one another when we fall asleep and awake.
She is my yin and I am her yang.
This difference contributes to the union, creating complete unity.
Our prayers are offered to you for the amplification of our union.
We have both sinned because we believed that others were for us.
Well, I can only say that you have allowed us to see the truth from others.
No matter how much we pull from one another, you are in control of the invisible string.
My prayer for her is that she makes ends meet in any manner that holds her honor.
Walk with her and guide her through all her trials until we can walk together, side by side, physically.
Help her mind become less fearful, for I wish to be there now, but I know that I have to be here in the different zone.
My fast for her is to give up any physical substance four times a month to meet her needs and amplify my prayer for her well-being.
The substance is food in the middle of the week. Let it be my fast and commitment to her well-being. I pray that you help her, because all I can do is think about her.
In Jesus’s name, Amen.
August 28 Praises to God Bible Meditations Based on Lamentations 4-5
Key Verse – Lamentations 4:11 The LORD hath accomplished his fury; he hath poured out his fierce anger, and hath kindled a fire in Zion, and it hath devoured the foundations thereof.
PRAISE BE TO GOD FOR ACCOMPLISHING
HIS FURY IN HIS HOLINESS
Praise be to God for accomplishing His fury
in His holiness against:
Fierce fighters of the faith
Futile fruits of those fearful
Faithless foundations of foolishness
Faulty frame and formless fitness of fugitives
Flawed focus along filthy flings fostered by false followers
Lamentations 5:1 Praise be to the Lord for
remembering us:
Delivering us from sorrows and sufferings
Directing us toward His sure salvation-security
Driving us from sinfulness of shamefulness sting
Defending us around His satisfaction midst His stability
Dominating over us from our selfishness as well as stubbornness
Distinguishes us by His Scriptural standards of steadfast settlement
Deepens us toward His service-stewardship, smiting our slothfulness
Lamentations 5:19 Praise be to the Saviour for
remaining forever in His throne while He:
Welcomes us for truthful worship
Works in us triumphantly against worldliness
Watches over us in our trials for our worthiness
Wants our thankfulness against tempting wastage
Warms us around His testimony with our trust in His Word. Amen!
August 28, 2024
Into a thick stand of autumn's golden aspen I flee
Dark eyes in ghostly bark faces seem to follow me
Wind whispering through the yellow leaves decree,
"Rest, child. We offer you safety and tranquility."
What voice speaks in this mysterious forest.. a tree?
If I have gone insane, I shall drown myself in the sea.
"No, little one. Insanity in you I plainly do not foresee.
Have no fear. I am no ogre or something more beastly."
"I am the eldest of ancient ones. That is not a hyperbole.
Planted as seedling, I've reached decades of thirty-three.
In all that time this grove has sheltered those who plea.
If it's escape you wish, nature gives you this sanctuary."
Most venerable elder aspen, I shall drop to one knee
giving you thanks for your most gracious hospitality.
A bed I would make of your fallen leaves, so feathery.
I hope you give consent for I am as weary as I can be.
"Beneath my branches take rest and restore your energy.
In the shade of my sylvan forest, close your eyes and see
That deep inside your fearful soul, you alone hold the key
To unlock the chains that bind you, and set your heart free."
One does not stamp out radicalism
any more than one outspends capitalism
or fights successfully against militarism
or overpowers totalitarianism.
We might fade out radicalism,
co-invest capital in cooperative objectives for health,
discern together removing threats of mutually assured violence
and democratize polycultural empowerment
by inviting therapy through all natural-spiritual nondual valuables,
dynamics and animations
within Earth's ecosystemic
universally open spacetime network.
How does it help to invite healing
by calling profound mental unbalance
cowardice?
Why choose the epithet "coward"
to describe terrorizing violent behavior
intent
thoughts against those who intend no active harm
to radicalized perpetrators?
Perhaps this is cowardly behavior
but this is not the first
or most significant
word coming to my mind.
This speaks of fear and anger
and chronically invested misanthropic hatreds,
fueled by competing over-heated environments,
internal and external.
To speak cowardice
to paranoia and ego-distorted sickness
only adds fuel to flames
we would more therapeutically abate
by inviting cultures of deep learning integrity
profoundly sacred ecology
multiculturally and polypathically seen and known
and felt,
inviting mutual embrace of fears
and angers
and lingering learned distrusts.
Chronic stamping on each other,
over each other,
causes further radicalism.
Chronic over-investing in WinLose strategies
caused ravages of capitalism,
dimming richer denser potential
within cooperative ownership and investment
of both capital and equity,
deductive minds and inductive hearts.
Chronic climates of advanced industrial militarism
cause further defaults toward competing
by violent fighting and threat.
Chronic ecopolitical overpowering
of those who feel angry and scared,
left out and behind,
fearful and terrified by violence,
their own and others'
stamping and stomping,
invites further totalitarian plutocracies,
rather than profoundly radical
healthy cooperatives
of growing nutritional democracy
of and for and by and through fair integrity,
cooperative trusting liberty
outshining rights of static freedom.
Celebration of Wind and Fire
Celebrate the unseen face of God’s eternal Spirit
Embracing all before creating light;
Action word of the eternal dance
Hovering over the chaotic genesis of creation;
Leading exiles out of exile through empty seas with fiery pillars
Feeding wanderers hungry for heavenly bread at dawn;
A living shadow pushing away the shadow of separation
Planting salvation’s seed deep within the sanctuary of a young girl’s yes;
Wearing the face of a dove descending on the Word
Leading anointed redemption into the empty desert place of prayer;
Driving wind and flames arriving on a festival morning
When fearful souls stood up to speak the languages of the world gathered;
Raising up a new tower of adoration reaching Heaven’s ears
Uniting with eternal words no longer babbling;
A fire, that never burns, burns through dust of days long past and now
Still hovering, descending, overshadowing, and dancing;
A sacred nudge delighting in coincidence
Filling up the thirst that gnaws for serendipity in surprises;
Inspiration birthed by the invisible hand of holy mischief
Inviting ambivalent, wavering, steps to roads of rightness in quiet whispers;
Lowering mountains, preparing highways now made straight,
For pilgrim’s feet gathering flowers in wild wastelands;
Caressing, prodding, in moments of a-ha ever evolving -
Timeless mentor of universal innovation;
Handiwork of the restless holy leaping up in wild fire
When old hearts dream dreams and young eyes see visions;
Laughing, dancing divine whimsy pirouetting through stars and galaxies
Never the same when touched by the Spirit dancing.
12/2/19
Original Contest: Holy Spirit
Chantelle Anne Cooke
It was Halloween and a week at my new job as a broker in real estate,
we have a new listing, an old Victorian, after years being stuck in probate.
My boss excitedly told me the address, smiling as I felt dread and panic,
I secretly remember visiting that creepy place years ago, feeling frantic.
He tells me I must go there tonight to make sure it’s secure and not left open.
Darkness settling in as I walked to my car, praying the lock is not broken.
Memories flooding back, I was sixteen when exploring that home one night,
we were teenagers looking for a thrill, wanting to explore the haunted site.
We entered the home one night, laughing about the rumored doom and gloom.
The floors creaked, as the chandelier started to flicker in the living room.
Frozen in fear, seeing shadows of human silhouettes descending the stairs,
glowing eyes and growling from something living near the antique chairs.
We ran out of there, never to go back, swearing to keep that night a secret,
we knew we were not supposed to be there and that no one would believe it!
Trying to forget while walking down the driveway with my flashlight and mace,
there it was, the old Queen Ann Victorian with a turret and shutters all in place.
I tried to relax as I climbed the brick stairs to the huge gothic wooden door.
The door was left open, I stood there frozen, fearful of what might be in store.
I quickly grabbed the knob, locked the door, slammed it shut and ran to my car,
I then heard growling, looked back and saw glowing eyes and the door now ajar!
I have seen this sight before, the flight of a shooting star
Burning its borrowed life away to entertain a borrowed crowd
I watch this young flower in her prime, ripe as mango fruit swaying gently to the evening breeze
I watch as she glides before me, gracefully holding her head up high
And the smile playing beautifully on her painted lips tells me loudly that she knows what we feel
Her captive audience, openly ogling a mermaid queen
Oblivious of the rest of Earth
As I look longingly, I can see that beneath this facade of grace
Lives a fearful child timidly walking through a world of snares
She has been told, I am sure, of all the promises and the joys, of all the pleasures of the flesh, of all the goods her beauty can secure
I wonder if she has been told of all the troubles on her path, the disgrace, abuses, diseases and death?
All kinds of risks that the pleasures can bring?
I have seen this sunrise before, rising proudly to a bleak sunset
I have seen this sunrise before, I hope she walks a different path.
He was the most basal, nasal
Bottom slowest, lowest
relative in their family, Jess Mamily.
They were fearful and tearful,
When his parents brought him to Sunion Reuion
He was dorky, dinky, odd, a clod.
Don’t play with him, said the Suion cousins, there were dozens.
So he sat alone, writing a story, penning a poem, a friendless gnome.
His penning paid off, he wrote a killer of a best seller.
He made two hundred thousand, maybe a few dollars more.
For the Jess Mamily the public knew was adored by the ten score.
The cousins began to knock on his notoriously famous door.
But he did not open it, remembering their mistreatment of him.
A Sunion Relative, but shunned no more.
On the Mamily size, Jesse had an always sweet cousin, Jim.
Not thirty four, not even a dozen, only Jesse and him.
This cousin was embraced by him and he shared his wealth.
Their friendship firm, both happy with monetary health.
In mind-body urn, a car that we drive,
allotted this time around for our use,
we toil and struggle and needlessly strive,
offering ignorance as our excuse,
heeding not our conscience, the voice of God,
touch of love, so tender and intimate,
as mile after mile in stupor we plod,
refusing to enter heart, heaven’s gate,
even though we see head and heart estranged,
being the cause of our inner conflict,
we’re fearful that if love notes be exchanged,
we may perhaps be by other souls tricked.
Poised in staid silence, leaving fears behind,
in time we see that we’re not body-mind.
In time we see that we’re not body-mind
but rather a presence aglow within,
eye of the eye that cannot be defined,
found when we silence mind’s deafening din.
Discarding all vicarious knowing,
choice of cessation invokes divine grace,
whence feeling magnetism in form flowing,
benign bliss burns hold us in close embrace.
Finally free from mind’s thinking disease,
vibrant thus as awareness self-aware,
fetters of desire as we so release,
with the heart of God we seamlessly pair.
With love as our mainstay, silence the way,
we remain bliss drenched by night and by day.
We remain bliss drenched by night and by day,
transfixed thus in all-time meditation,
which, call it of you will, the way we pray,
each breath intake, a joyous celebration.
The seeker who once sought has disappeared,
in whose place has emerged a smokeless flame,
resisting not currents by God’s hand steered,
with no demonic desires left to tame.
It’s said man proposes, God disposes
but when we both are one, boundaries blur,
so as we walk this path strewn with roses,
all we do is, with pulse of love concur.
Flame of consciousness we thus do revive,
in mind-body urn, a car that we drive.