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(Poem base on Revelation 1:9-20)
The Clarion Call
On the Lord’s day in the Spirit,
Interrupted by a loud voice.
Time to write to seven churches.
The clarion call! Attention!
Interrupted by a loud voice.
‘Midst the lampstands, the Son of Man.
Robe, golden sash; hair, white as wool.
The clarion call! Attention!
Time to write to seven churches.
Physically on Patmos Island;
On the Lord’s day in the Spirit.
The clarion call! Attention!
“Write on a scroll what you see, John.”
Eyes like fiery flames, bronze feet.
Voice like the cascade of waters.
The clarion call! Attention!
Seven stars (angels) in right hand,
Sharp, double-edged sword from his mouth,
Countenance like the sun - full strength.
The clarion call! Attention!
Countenance like the sun - full strength.
John fell like a dead man. “Fear not,
I am the first and last, alive…”
The clarion call! Attention!
“Alive forever and ever
I hold keys of death and Hades.”
Eyes like fiery flames, bronze feet.
The clarion call! Attention!
About me, you and some righteous Jews..
God is perfect..And Holy' Also wise..Wiser
Than satans sly.' who waters the seed of knowledge, the wise-dom that treelike grows.' He is in its structure..Sometimes he shows.' God is testing the hearts of us..' Gentle yet
Firm with the fragile dust.' He told Moses I
( I will make you as a god.) Arron shall be as your prophet..As I AM GOD.' He drew satans attention to righteous Job, satan went to work..At full strength with pain Job went shod, God told Eve of such fruit do
Not eat..A test.? Who is that wise.? Who knows, ( Just Who? ) as sure as lucifer
Walked hot stones, God was watching I
Make no bones.' Until..Iniquity was found
dark star cast to heavens lower bounds..
So back again to the righteous whos.?
And the sons of Abraham..Not of Rahab
( as caphais said) yet both God did choose.' As the sanhedrin strutted in their roles, assured
Assertive they would not accuse Mary openly
( but judged her grand dam' ) and taunted Jesus
The Holy God man.. We know from who your mother was born.' And God watched each hour.' The hate and scorn.' Who are the 'sons and daughters true?' And does God deep each heart view.? Is it
Enough.? To be chosen..? Or should we walk ' in reverent awareness' as by some is taught.' Who are the ones pleasing to the
Lord? I think i know real Jews by the blood
And accord.' I beleive its not a physical thing, in humbleness only can you serve this King..All the rest i veiw as a great test
Just give me Yeshua..satan can have all the rest.!
cherishing the days i've learned to say,
it doesn't matter what you say or do i love you anyway,
we all say prove your love...prove it! prove it!,
while we ignore the heart unless we can move it,
show me, and if you can't it must not be real,
a misconception of the heart that needs proof to reveal,
some can run a race with full strength and full speed,
while others were meant to be on the side to plant the seed,
just because you cannot see, doesn't mean their hearts not in action,
but because our society needs proof to believe...this is their reaction,
behind closed doors, their service is mindful, a heart only God can see,
their heartful prayers resignate to the throne of God with tears of love and compassionate pleas,
an excuse not to move,,,,,No! not at all,
in HIS season, we answer HIS call,
HIS que, HIS spirit riding us through,
all of a sudden, HIS wind passes through,
with faith to believe,,,this is no dream,
the love of HIS faith is a reality!
The disciples loved Jesus
Scripture gives examples of how they cared for His needs
During the time of Jesus’ suffering and death
Most of His disciples abandoned Him
Even if they had stayed
They couldn’t have given to Jesus all that He needed
The full strength to triumph over His suffering
Death had to come from the Eternal Father
It is the same with us
We share our love with our families
What we do for one another is extremely important
But something essential would be missing in our lives if we lacked the inspirations
And guidance that can only come from Eternal God
We can experience these gifts when our hearts are quiet
Open to Eternal God’s presence within us
"Blue Avians and the Poetic State of Mind
post apocalypse
the mother
sought the assistance
of Blue Avians.
when it came to
eggs stolen from a nest
who better than to
seek the assistance
of those ancient
wise creatures.
they had a keen sense
of the poetic.
without speaking,
they intuitively
understand
the misunderstood.
The Blues
shot right through
to the heart
of the matter.
Triangulation.
seated in
lapis lazuli
Merkaba
thrones
they fly
in fierce squadrons
sharp eyes, and minds
surveying the In-Between Place.
extra sensory perception
they lock into targets
reading signals hidden
under the radar
the cloaked
co-ordinates
of the Draconian
the great pretenders,
finding weakness
in the criminals’
fading camouflage.
slippery scales, light weights,
the Draconian
are bird bait;
too shiny,
inherent and inherited
reptilian, lizard minds
unsettling reprobates
in false light armour;
their dangerous enabling
supporting the
underbelly of it all,
their brother,
the venomous
Arachnid army.
The Blue Avians
saw deep inside
the Necromancer’s
deep indigo heart,
the blue heart of true mother.
they were for her
with faith
every time;
for like them, after all,
she also could fly
with the full strength,
the force of will in her mind.
they would fly
by her side. anytime.
they held no fear
of her motives,
her just moment,
her calling mission
for return of her child,
in the fullness of time.
they see
and they feel
the fierce call
of the Necromancer’s
true mind.
post apocalypse
the mother
sought the assistance
of Blue Avians.
when it came to
eggs stolen from a nest
who better than to
seek the assistance
of those ancient
wise creatures,
they possessed a keen sense
of swift justice.
they read
without speaking
truth in
the poetic,
a unifying
undying
poetically alienated
state of mind
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
"I am the blue-lidded daughter of Sunset;
I am the naked brilliance of the voluptuous night-sky."
"In the sphere I am everywhere the centre,
as She, the circumference, is nowhere found."
Eye of Horus.
Horus.
Thoth.
Nuit.
The bruise of mistakes begin as an almost invisible blue.
The lightest hue.
The mistake not fully acknowledged as even being a bruise.
The errors and lesson still unknown to you.
Then as the bruise of mistakes become knotted and tender to touch
Excuses become the bandaid so the pain isn't too much.
Eventually blame is wrongly placed and used as a crutch.
As you expect pity, understanding, forgiveness, and such.
Then as the bruise of mistakes become deep purple almost black.
The pain now full strength while you just wish you could go back.
Yet still the pain from the mistakes make your vision lack.
You are leary of choices and watchful of cracks.
Then at it's worse you fall asleep in tears accepting it will never end.
You awake in the morning and the black and blue blend.
You start thinking of your past and ways to make amends.
While forgiveness remains illusive like war that never ends.
Then as much time passes and the bruise is barely blue.
The lesson now learned created a scar or maybe two.
You swallow your pride and apologize to a few
Standing there still raw they admonish you which you allow them to do.
To walk away with only the scars from the bruise.
While they judge and condemn everything that you do.
Never understanding the mistake or what caused it's debut.
Looking down stuck up noses never seeing you
Panting, running, paying, fuming,
Bumping, swearing, hurrying, driving,
All because today is the thirty first
Of the month, why are we all nigh to burst!
Got to buy groceries, go the butcher
The dry cleaners, the florist, the baker,
Did i turn on the slow cooker?
Have guests coming at 8.00p.m still
On the road, home in 15 minutes – phone Will,
Darling, Did you collect the birthday cake,
There is a big accident, traffic hectic won’t make
It to pick it up – Yes sweetheart I have
Drive carefully the roads are crazy,
Looks like a storm brewing, weather drizzly and hazy.
As I arrive in our driveway it pours with rain,
And I drop a packet, which had the red wine, I stain
My clothes and the car seat, go have your shower,
Hubby says, relax, everything is under control,
Turned shower taps to their full strength and power
Exhausted, let the water run over my naked body
Till I feel refreshed, get dressed in my
Sexy black number,
And come downstairs, hubby gives me a wolf whistle,
Just wait till the guests leave he says, look at him
From under my lashes!
The aroma wafting from the stove is
Provocatively divine!
And next to the sofa is a glass of room
Temperature red wine.
Table is set, arrange flowers I brought in a vase,
Immediately, the bell goes ding dong,
It’s Cherry and Tim,
She couldn’t wait to show me her engagement ring,
Hot on their heels are Susan and Barry,
He has just asked Susan to him marry,
And last of all my twin sister Rina, arrives she’s wise,
With her new boyfriend in tow she bellows, Hi guys!
Fun was had and wine was drunk
Laughter abounded in the lounge and dining room,
We all forgot how tired we were and
It was end of the month, and all the media forecasted,
Was doom and gloom!
It was my birthday, turning forty, no turning back now,
Don’t regret a day of my life, bless the day I took my vow,
Happy birthday dear Mary, happy Birthday to you,
I felt blest had my hubby and sister present and select
Friends but few,
Mellow and happy and with certainly no one drunk,
Just four happy couples full of zest and funk!
Our guests began departing, in twos they left,
I slipped of my shoes and gave a big yawn,
Will picked me up, and must have undressed
Me – for all I remember is waking up to a peck
On my cheek,
And a scrumptious breakfast in bed,
I always knew I had picked the right guy to wed!
Since our most recent U.S. Presidential non-selection,
for one thing a Trumpian could not become
is therapeutically presidential,
I have become worried about our democratic suffrage.
Perhaps only mothers, or maybe also fathers,
of kids with special vulnerability needs
should be allowed to vote,
or perhaps each and all allowed to vote,
but only special needs parents to vote twice.
With each vote cast,
whether one or two,
this vote is cast for healthy futures
wealthiest nutrients imaginable
for future generations with increasingly special climate needs.
It may take a special mom,
a compassionately vulnerable dad,
to truly see each child has special needs
to regenerate toward full strength wealth of health
accessible to those born harmed
by an increasingly rabid ecopolitics
of every man for himself
(and also women and children, if and as time allows)
in a Might Makes Triage Right evolving world
of actively distrusting revolutions
between aristocrats who harvest power
and special needs kids
who, by comparison, harvest not,
and never ever will.
Unless, or course,
we might conquer democratic potential
and original intent
by electing candidates whose primary experience
of electoral special needs value
are WinWin outcomes as moms,
and maybe even dads,
of kids with climate healthing special needs
well met
suffrage through discontent.
I reside in those hazel eyes
which display emotional smile,
let the words evade coz if you sigh
this purest talk will subside.
I request you, never speak the words
your eyes convey it better!
My cold palm stays ensconced into your sturdy one
to bestow a sense of completion,
let the two never unite coz if you hold it tight
this touch would not ignite.
I request you, let the flame stay entwined
and every moment become worth rewind!
Your intense breath around me
entraps me, makes me gallop on the wildest horse.
move away from me, let me remain untouched
I request you, don’t allow the crave to wane
enable me to feel this distance!
Your sturdy stature
invites me with full strength.
let the blaze show the beauty of rage
I request you, allow this desire to grow
and make my hunger roar!
The blanket for your support around me
gives me the strength to grow
let me walk alone and conquer it all
I request you, watch me fair
I know you will always care!
Let the love be love, in it’s truest form
there’s no need to follow the norm.
I request you, just don’t say a word
May we stay entwined forever as a cord!
YOU ARE THE PAPER AND I AM THE PEN
Hi Jenn, glad you are writing a poem today,
And ecstatic you are drafting it in a
Happy and mostly pink notebook,
Which of course is me,
What on earth was it that took
You so long, to do this sensible thing,
You have thrown hundreds of sheets away
Screwed them up, and thrown in your bin,
To never see another dawn, or beautiful day.
Lock down WOW, I’m thrilled we must stay at home,
Will the virus lessen, because all will less roam?
Well “Pinkie Book” I couldn’t resist you
You looked so cute and extremely cheeky,
Your pages trimmed with freaky,
Skulls and ghosts, I really wanted this book
And since we have established you talk
Maybe you can go back in time
And find the scribbles that were discarded
That had no meaning, disregarded.
We have unlocked a mystery so profound
From Centuries ago, we will see it through
When this dreadful, horrible virus.
Is no longer a crisis!
As each of the flowers painted on the four
Corners of the paper nod their heads demurely
Makes me feel guilty if my pen is full of fury!
Let’s make a poem together said the pretty note-book.
With pleasure I replied!
There once was some pink paper, and a pen
Who were both owned by a poet called Jenn
She discovered the pink paper could speak,
This for Jenn was such a surprising treat,
Jenn, muse, talking pink pad destined to craft a gem!
Our President Cyril Ramaphosa addressed the nation last night,
The nation goes into lockdown by midnight Thursday night
With the full strength of the law and its might
Allowed a grocery store or get medication
Be quick and back with extreme trepidation
Unabiding Citizens army and police involved in this plight
Thank you dear Pinkie book, you really are so clever,
Stay here as long as you like, you are now a family member!