Is it enough to let the eyes skim the page,
To count the words like stars in a cage?
To say “I’ve read” and pass along,
While meaning fades like a forgotten song?
Reading is not just ink and air,
Not just the weight of facts laid bare.
It’s stepping into thought’s quiet hall,
Where questions echo, and meanings call.
Observation may grant you sight,
A glimpse of truth in borrowed light.
But understanding lights the fire,
Turns cold recall to soul’s desire.
In schools we learn to fill the test,
To chase the grade, outscore the rest
But who will teach the heart to see
What all these numbers mean to me?
To read is more than moving eyes,
It’s letting words inside arise.
It’s asking “Why?” and “What comes next?”
It’s living with the living text.
So read, yes
but read to feel.
Read to shatter, bend, and heal.
For the deepest truths are not just scanned.
They’re held, they’re lived,
they’re understood,
they’re planned.
Enjoy the delight.

Two words—clean cut,
Sharp like truth,
Simple as spit,
Understood in every pit
And palace.
Money talks.

******* hell
So do my prayers.
Two words,
No frills,
Just fire and air,
Shot through ceilings,
Blown through cracks,
No echo back.

Money talks,
But prayers?
They whisper to walls.
They dance in smoke.
They choke.

Yahoo to my prayers
Sent to the stars,
To the sky that shrugs,
To heaven
Where silence
Claps in all languages.

These words are for my grandchildren to read when I’m gone.
May they find in them a trace of who I was,
a glimpse of the battles I fought quietly,
the love I carried deeply,
and the truths I dared to speak.
If nothing else, let these words remind them:
I lived, I felt, and I left something behind that still breathes.

The shadow of death is me,
or maybe I’m its shadow.
The angel showed me light
then whispered, “go back.”
In hell’s name,
can someone tell me why?
“Even though I walk through the valley
of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil,
for You are with me;
Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.”
I trust in God
in His presence, in His protection.
I long for rest.
For salvation.
For peace
in me,
and in the heart
of this world
still crying
for f**king peace.

Never trust again
nor reconnect with
anyone who tried to silence your voice,
break your spirit, or shatter your being.
A snake, no matter how smooth
or beautiful, only sheds its skin to grow.
But never forget:
“a snake remains a snake”

Where rest is set and peace is sown,
The sunrise and dawn are mine alone.
A covenant forged—just God and me,
My church stands high, stone-built and free.
Upon a mountain, firm and wide,
An orchard blooms on every side.
Each ration blessed by Heaven’s hand,
Planted with care, by love unmanned.
What more creed does one require?
Contentment douses all desire.
The richest soul is he who needs
No more than what the spirit feeds.
I sing my song with head held high,
No shame, no sorrow, no goodbye.
My wine is sweet, and purely mine,
Pressed in stillness, aged in time.
In solitude, I find the way
The questions gone, the answers stay.
I’m priest and penitent in one,
My absolution, self-begun.
So thank You, God, for this great gift:
The sacred silence, the spirit’s lift.
Solitude and I walk blind
Together lost, yet not to be found.

When tyranny dons the robe of law,
Then rising up becomes the call.
For silence feeds the despot’s might,
And duty wakes in darkest night.
Bravery is not a lack of fear,
But holding it, and drawing near
A trembling hand, a steady soul,
That walks through fire to reach the goal.