is it the forest or the trees
where the real truth lies?
is it in elephant graveyards
where a true heart dies?
and how can sages ask
the wherefores and the whys?

there's only One who measures
the circumference of the skies.


soulsurvivor aka
Write of Passage aka
Invisible inc
(C) 8/26/2015

---

is it the forest or the trees
where the real truth lies?
is it in elephant graveyards
where a true heart dies?
and how can sages ask
the wherefores and the whys?

there's only One who measures
the circumference of the skies.


soulsurvivor aka
Write of Passage aka
Invisible inc
(C) 8/26/2015

Summer 1986 Sunday 5:30AM

Misty morning in Malibu.
Seagulls stitch the sea to a subtle
silver sky. They sputter stridently.
Each elegant gull hovers effortlessly.
Entreating each other. Echos bounce
off the sound of the surf into eternity. The screeching of many a
soliloquy akin to silence.

I sit on the pier. The water before
me washes onto the staccato legs
of tiny waterbirds who wander
in and out of the surf. Little
windblown ***** of ecru and grey
wool. I worship in the womb of
the great goddess ~ nature. I wasn't to know the Creator was watching patiently...

6:30AM
I make my unhurried way up the
pier to my car. A cheap but
comfortable convertable. Nobody
walks in LA. I punch in a tape.
Don Henley. Boys of Summer.

I take PCH up to the incline that
takes you from the beach. Pushing
the pedal slightly as I slide by the
colossal bleached cliffs of
Palacades Park. There the homeless
sleep under the benches dedicated
by friends and family in
rememberance of loved ones.
Small plaques attatched for
posterity.

My hands are on the steering wheel
at 7 and 12 o'clock.I look at the cast
I wear on my right wrist. A token
of rememberance from an angry romance. He and I parted
respectively, if not at all
respectfully. I drive.

7:00AM
Venice beach. Not yet boysterous.
But never boring. The young people
(and old) still bundled together in bed. Saturday night hangovers will
be had by most of the denizens of
Venice beach boardwalk. A grainy
eyed few wander around abstractidly. Shopowners enter
their buildings, their storefronts
almost as small as booths. Graphitti
and giant works of art grace walls
everywhere ~ Jim Morrison and
Venus in workout leggings much
in evidence.

I smoke my cigarette and drink my
hot coffee carefully in the open cafe'.
I consider the eyefest of the crowd
that will congregate here to enjoy
the clement weather.
The cacophony and the clamor.
Touristas and Los Angelinos alike
drawn In by calculating vendors
and coyote souled street performers.
I look forward to seeing the
non conformity usually. But not
today. For now I sit in the quiet cafe'.

Venice beach. Vulpine. Vacuous.
A strangely vunerable venue. The
***** and the beautiful. The talented and the ******.

A street performance pianist trundles his acoustic piano on
casters out onto the boardwalk.
I ask him if I may play. He looks
at my cast doubtfully.
"I can still play..." I tell him.
He ascents and listens thoughtfully
as I play my compositions. He really
likes them. I ****** the ebony and
the ivory with insistant fingers.
The smile on his face is irrepressable. I smile back and we
flirt in self conceous, fitful fashion.
Time to leave.

9:00AM
Radio is on in my car now. A cut
from the musical Chess. One night
in Bangkok makes the hard man
humble... I like the driving beat.
I'm going up I-10, a single blood cell
in the main artery that brings life
to the flesh of this mamouth town.
Traffic is tenuous. A boon here in
this conjested city.

I drive to Fairfax and Sunset, where
I lived with in a tiny one-bedroom
apartment with my mom. An
ambitious actress. I an ambivalent
artist.

Sunset. The Roxy and Whiskey-a-
Go-Go. Cartoon characters Rocky
and Bullwinkle casually cavort on
the top of a building. Billboards
as tall as the Hollywood sign. The
street of broken hearts for many
an actress -slash-model. They
wander about on street corners
looking haughty and haunted.
Waiting for who knows who to
honk. Their dreams have flown
away like the exhailation of smoke
from the mechanical lungs of the
Marlboro Man. Schwab's drugstore
and diner. The place where some
famous starlet was discovered.
Delivered into the arms of the
Hollywood machine. I opt to go
to the Sunset Grill.

11:00AM
I'm walking down Hollywood Blvd.
Perusing shops and persuing
pedestrian pleasures. Everyone
talks of the star-studded sidewalks.
To me they look tarnished and
filthy. Stars from a sultry smog
laden sky come to earth. The names
of some of the folks honored on
them I don't recognise.

I'm here to view movies today.
I'm definitely not going to
Grauman's Chinese Theater.
Been there. Done that. Gave the
very expensive T shirt to
Goodwill. I look around at the
proud and the plebian. The pedantic
and the pathetic. No prostitutes
out yet that I could see. Probably
toppled into bed to sleep
(for once). Deposed kings
and queens of the monarchy of the
night. The homeless hobble along
with their hair matted and askew.
Shopping carts with stuttering
wheels de reguer.

A couple of tourists with Izod shirts,
plaid shorts to the knee and deck
shoes sans socks gaze in a shop
window. It's borded by tarnished
and faded silver garlands... tinsel
Christmas tree.
"Want to buy a mood ring today?"
One of them querys his buddy,
laughingly.

I find my small theater and enter
the air conditioned lobby. I purchase
a soda and pass on the popcorn.
As I enter the theater's modestly
plush, dimly lit cocoon sanctuary
I notice very few patrons are here
for the matinee. GOOD. I finally
watch the premiere product of
Los Angeles. Movie after movie
slides across the screen. The callus
morally corrosive corporations
conspire with the creative to produce
the culmination of many art forms
in one. Cinema.

LA. Languid. Luxurious. Legendary.
Rollicking, raunchy rodeo.
Seaside city. Sophisticated. Spurious.

SPECTACULAR.

8:00PM
I wend my way up Mulholland Dr.
Another tape is playing in the deck.
One of my favorites. David + David.
Welcome to the Boomtown.

I pull over at a deserted vista. From
this viewpoint I can see the city
spread out like a blanketfof brilliance. The gridiron of LA.
Glitzy and glamorous. Generating
little gods and goddesses. A gigantic
gamble for the disingenuous and
gouache. Tinsel town. Titillating.
Tempestuous. Only the very brave
bring their dreams here... or fools
rush in where angels fear to tread.
All but the fallen angels. They thrive.

Oh! If this place could be bottled it
would be such sweet poison. I
look up at the auburn sky and back
down at the breathtaking panorama
The metropolis that is LA with awe
and angst. I carefully stub out my
cigarette and flip it irreverantly
toward the lagoon of lights.

I get in my car to drive home.
Home?
Could this imposing, inspiring,
impossible place be called home?

Well. Home is where the heart is.
And I live in the heart of a dream.
This is the city of dreams...

CITY OF ANGELS.

SoulSurvivor aka
Write of Passage aka
Invisible inc
Catherine E Jarvis
(C) 2005

Summer 1986 Sunday 5:30AM

Misty morning in Malibu.
Seagulls stitch the sea to a subtle
silver sky. They sputter stridently.
Each elegant gull hovers effortlessly.
Entreating each other. Echos bounce
off the sound of the surf into eternity. The screeching of many a
soliloquy akin to silence.

I sit on the pier. The water before
me washes onto the staccato legs
of tiny waterbirds who wander
in and out of the surf. Little
windblown ***** of ecru and grey
wool. I worship in the womb of
the great goddess ~ nature. I wasn't to know the Creator was watching patiently...

6:30AM
I make my unhurried way up the
pier to my car. A cheap but
comfortable convertable. Nobody
walks in LA. I punch in a tape.
Don Henley. Boys of Summer.

I take PCH up to the incline that
takes you from the beach. Pushing
the pedal slightly as I slide by the
colossal bleached cliffs of
Palacades Park. There the homeless
sleep under the benches dedicated
by friends and family in
rememberance of loved ones.
Small plaques attatched for
posterity.

My hands are on the steering wheel
at 7 and 12 o'clock.I look at the cast
I wear on my right wrist. A token
of rememberance from an angry romance. He and I parted
respectively, if not at all
respectfully. I drive.

7:00AM
Venice beach. Not yet boysterous.
But never boring. The young people
(and old) still bundled together in bed. Saturday night hangovers will
be had by most of the denizens of
Venice beach boardwalk. A grainy
eyed few wander around abstractidly. Shopowners enter
their buildings, their storefronts
almost as small as booths. Graphitti
and giant works of art grace walls
everywhere ~ Jim Morrison and
Venus in workout leggings much
in evidence.

I smoke my cigarette and drink my
hot coffee carefully in the open cafe'.
I consider the eyefest of the crowd
that will congregate here to enjoy
the clement weather.
The cacophony and the clamor.
Touristas and Los Angelinos alike
drawn In by calculating vendors
and coyote souled street performers.
I look forward to seeing the
non conformity usually. But not
today. For now I sit in the quiet cafe'.

Venice beach. Vulpine. Vacuous.
A strangely vunerable venue. The
***** and the beautiful. The talented and the ******.

A street performance pianist trundles his acoustic piano on
casters out onto the boardwalk.
I ask him if I may play. He looks
at my cast doubtfully.
"I can still play..." I tell him.
He ascents and listens thoughtfully
as I play my compositions. He really
likes them. I ****** the ebony and
the ivory with insistant fingers.
The smile on his face is irrepressable. I smile back and we
flirt in self conceous, fitful fashion.
Time to leave.

9:00AM
Radio is on in my car now. A cut
from the musical Chess. One night
in Bangkok makes the hard man
humble... I like the driving beat.
I'm going up I-10, a single blood cell
in the main artery that brings life
to the flesh of this mamouth town.
Traffic is tenuous. A boon here in
this conjested city.

I drive to Fairfax and Sunset, where
I lived with in a tiny one-bedroom
apartment with my mom. An
ambitious actress. I an ambivalent
artist.

Sunset. The Roxy and Whiskey-a-
Go-Go. Cartoon characters Rocky
and Bullwinkle casually cavort on
the top of a building. Billboards
as tall as the Hollywood sign. The
street of broken hearts for many
an actress -slash-model. They
wander about on street corners
looking haughty and haunted.
Waiting for who knows who to
honk. Their dreams have flown
away like the exhailation of smoke
from the mechanical lungs of the
Marlboro Man. Schwab's drugstore
and diner. The place where some
famous starlet was discovered.
Delivered into the arms of the
Hollywood machine. I opt to go
to the Sunset Grill.

11:00AM
I'm walking down Hollywood Blvd.
Perusing shops and persuing
pedestrian pleasures. Everyone
talks of the star-studded sidewalks.
To me they look tarnished and
filthy. Stars from a sultry smog
laden sky come to earth. The names
of some of the folks honored on
them I don't recognise.

I'm here to view movies today.
I'm definitely not going to
Grauman's Chinese Theater.
Been there. Done that. Gave the
very expensive T shirt to
Goodwill. I look around at the
proud and the plebian. The pedantic
and the pathetic. No prostitutes
out yet that I could see. Probably
toppled into bed to sleep
(for once). Deposed kings
and queens of the monarchy of the
night. The homeless hobble along
with their hair matted and askew.
Shopping carts with stuttering
wheels de reguer.

A couple of tourists with Izod shirts,
plaid shorts to the knee and deck
shoes sans socks gaze in a shop
window. It's borded by tarnished
and faded silver garlands... tinsel
Christmas tree.
"Want to buy a mood ring today?"
One of them querys his buddy,
laughingly.

I find my small theater and enter
the air conditioned lobby. I purchase
a soda and pass on the popcorn.
As I enter the theater's modestly
plush, dimly lit cocoon sanctuary
I notice very few patrons are here
for the matinee. GOOD. I finally
watch the premiere product of
Los Angeles. Movie after movie
slides across the screen. The callus
morally corrosive corporations
conspire with the creative to produce
the culmination of many art forms
in one. Cinema.

LA. Languid. Luxurious. Legendary.
Rollicking, raunchy rodeo.
Seaside city. Sophisticated. Spurious.

SPECTACULAR.

8:00PM
I wend my way up Mulholland Dr.
Another tape is playing in the deck.
One of my favorites. David + David.
Welcome to the Boomtown.

I pull over at a deserted vista. From
this viewpoint I can see the city
spread out like a blanketfof brilliance. The gridiron of LA.
Glitzy and glamorous. Generating
little gods and goddesses. A gigantic
gamble for the disingenuous and
gouache. Tinsel town. Titillating.
Tempestuous. Only the very brave
bring their dreams here... or fools
rush in where angels fear to tread.
All but the fallen angels. They thrive.

Oh! If this place could be bottled it
would be such sweet poison. I
look up at the auburn sky and back
down at the breathtaking panorama
The metropolis that is LA with awe
and angst. I carefully stub out my
cigarette and flip it irreverantly
toward the lagoon of lights.

I get in my car to drive home.
Home?
Could this imposing, inspiring,
impossible place be called home?

Well. Home is where the heart is.
And I live in the heart of a dream.
This is the city of dreams...

CITY OF ANGELS.

Soul Survivor
Catherine E Jarvis
(C) 2005

We are barely civil.
In fact it's a war!
I'm about ready now
To knock you to the floor!

I'm a blue-clad Yankee.
You're grey-Johnny Reb.
This fight may not be over
Til one red heart 💔 is dead!

Chorus
Collateral damage, Civil War
Please don' you come 'round no more!
No lady here, no gentleman
Was it just a one-year stand?
Call it Providence or Fate,
All that's left of love is hate.

We don't square off in a duel
We wait in the weeds!
Each of us a Devil's tool
We shoot until we bleed!

You the caustic sarcasm
Me the Samurai tongue
We won't bend, but in the end
Which of us has won??.

Chorus



SoulSurvivor aka
Write of Passage
2022

you do not have to ♥
you don't have to repost
you do not even have to read this

By posting dedications and tributes
I AM NOT:*

Trying to raise my stats
Recruit new readers
Impress ANYONE

I'm not hired by Eliot to
promote his site

REGARDLESS OF WHAT SOME
OF THE MORE CYNICAL MAY THINK
I GENUINELY CARE FOR POETS.
I'M INTERESTED IN YOU.

There are some who have
POISON in their mind and
INJECT IT INTO THE MINDS OF OTHERS... STOP IT.

We grow old like watches
The hands are stiff from work
Correct time reflected twice a day
A fact which leaves us erked
Having regularity
Becomes a real perk
Hearts left too long in the sun
Become completely ******

We grow old like plumbing
Springing lots of leaks
Number 1 is hourly
The other once a week!
There's orthascopic searches
The plumbers take a peek
While the polyps and fistulae
Really have us freaked!

We grow old like locks & keys
You know, the skeleton kind
We can't unlock our hips & knees
We can't unlock our minds
We can't unlock our senses
Eyes & ears go blind
We can't get out of fleshy jail
We're really in a bind!

We grow old like vehicles
Our wiring starts to burn
Odometers spin like crazy
While our wheels refuse to turn!

We grow old like parchment
We pour out like a cup
We count the beats of clicking bones
The old want to be pups
While the crazy youngsters of today

Can't wait to grow up!


SoulSurvivor
(C) 1/13/2017

in their bed of ash
lavender-grey and sultry

slowly reassemble into
a bed of coals
salmon and fuchsia

stretching
and
torching
the
morning
star


soulsurvivor
(C) 20/10/2015

I'm looking for Christian poets/writers to collaborate
with me on a book of poetry and witness. Tell your story in poetry or prose. There are few constraints, your walk with God. You must...

1. Be TRULY BORN-AGAIN or sincerely want to be. Not a Christian who "said a prayer" but now feels the Christian faith to be too hard and wants to leave.

2. Be in accord with the other writers (including me).  I'm very happy with harmony.

3. Shares my theology. Here's a YouTube poem which shows most of how I've read the Bible. Message me on the site message system.

https://youtu.be/rRXGks-0H9M?si=cpJci40axGMMf39L


Thanks for your serious consideration.



Your sister ìn Christ,

Catherine Jarvis 🙏🙏🙏

In colored glass the prisons
In windows on the wall
Saints look uo to heaven
Jesus looks so tall
Piercing eyes look into hearts
Convicting, calling... all.
Weeping through the window
Shifting up the wall
The sun approaches painted hills
Sun setting leaves a pall.

All the congregation
Modern in the light
They follow "the Savior"
Thinking they're "upright"

Position, proposition,
Privilege in their pores
Matriarchs & patriarchs
Always wanting more.

The Saviour dies a pauper
Assigned to pour red gusts
Put in a rich man's private tomb
To turn to maroon dust

Now, O, hail the Pastor!
His preaching & his price!
He gathers up the windblown tithes
To practice every vice....
He's the one they come to
To give His Glorious advice?

The Mesusa in Their membranes
Giving Themselves airs
They turn us all to colored glass
Snakes writhe in Their hair
But batten down the Bible
WE AREN'T THAT UNAWARE.

The Saints look up so pious
Jesus scans the pews
He sees ALL the "Pastors"
He sees me & you
He's looks down so sadly

As the light weeps through.

SoulSurvivor

^¡^

Color me be a cymbal
Let me be a gong
Color me Coyote brown
Let me limp along
Color up my faltering voice
Let it come out wrong
Color me a blackbird
A deep & moody song.

Color me a minstrel
Let me be a knave
Color me a sinner
Who is yet unsaved
Color me a'weeping
Let tears come in waves
Color me a raven
Perched above a grave.

Color me a cloudy day
Color me the rain
Color me a carousel
That ol' circle game
Let me be a priest of straw
Let me see bloodstains
On songwritten pages
On my Christian name.

Color me a kite in flight!
Color up the strings!
Color me an angel
A rusty golden thing!
Color me a blackbird
Cuz, man, those birds can SING!!
Yes, even a blackbird has
Red & yellow on its wings...

^¡^

by Catherine Jarvis
Dedicated to Joni Mitchell.

~~~

Is zero a number?
Is numb a feeling?
Is comatose slumber?
Is sleep now healing?

Is why a question?
Is try a verb?
When you can't shake
The ***** and herb?

Is static music?
Is silence screaming?
Is nighttime cursed...

is daytime dreaming?


SoulSurvivor
Rewrite (c) 5/12/2015
Written 2014

we all appreciate getting them...
please give some in return!

commenting on the content
will give as well as earn!

reading is a joy!
there's so much we can learn!


SoulSurvivor
12/13/2015

I create.
I compose.
I don't compare.
I don't compromise.

I'm compulive
On my little computer.
I don't consider.
I don't compete...

I create.


Soul Survivor

I am a poetry site addict.
I get on a site, and I just
Don't know when
To stop writing.
I'm not kidding.
I'm serious.

I'm also a people pleaser.
I want people to like me.
So I overwhelm them
And try too hard.

I love to bless people and
Make them feel good
About themselves.
But it can get to be
Too much of a
Good thing.

I have a thyroid condition
And slight bi polar mania
At times. I'm medicated,
Which helps. But I can't
Sleep when the writing
Bug hits.

You may be saying to
Yourselves, what?!
That's great for a
Writer! But it really
Isn't. Cause I alienate
People. I really would
Rather read and
Leave the writing
Alone for a while.

Please forgive me.
I'm truly not trying to
Overwhelm. I just love to
Write so much.

Thanks for understanding,
And for all your inspiration.
All my comments, etc
ARE SINCERE!!!


Soul :)

as they soar
They course the winds and roam
They care not for snow nor rain
They make the clouds their home!

Consider the badger in his den
He worries not for gold
He will fight till his last breath
To defend his hole!

Consider the lion and his pride
They suffer want and lack
But they care naught or give a thought
They will be bouncing back!

Consider the fish within his pool
He worries not for drink
He won't beware for lack of air
He's stronger than we think!

Consider the wildflower
The bravely climbing rose
She will, in gloom, put forth her bloom
And cover trees in floes!

Consider the canine!
Consider the mighty horse!
They don't amend the name of friend
they're better ones of course!

Consider kingdoms of the wild
Do you find it odd?
They worry not. Give nothing thought

They just depend on GOD.


SoulSurvivor
(C) 1/19/2016

When you have nowhere to go
Trials are fast, blessings slow
And the toilet overflows

Count it ALL JOY!

When winter Paints the Roses blue
When your boyfriend finds someone new
And all your friends turn on you

Count it ALL JOY!

When you are truly at a loss
Not even one coin to toss
Had a fight with your new boss!

Count it ALL JOY!

Maybe you don't have a job
You're on the street you just been robbed
People actin' like they're snobs
You cry for help, their heads just bob
You really have the trials of Job

Count it ALL JOY!

Maybe you're sick, and filled with pain
And you're sitting in the rain
Your energy is on the wane
The fiddle plays a sad refrain

Count it ALL JOY!

When you feel you're near the end
And you're going 'round the bend
Cannot find a single friend...


COUNT IT ALL JOY!


SoulSurvivor
(C) 7/21/2016

... stab people in the back
and avoid their eyes.

10W
Soul Survivor

Thè Rose breasted the foamy sea,
a hand came dripping from the waves,
'twas watery death, Queen Witch herself!
Sand clotted song pushed
through her ribs.

Chorus
A nova made her blackness sigh,
She was soaking in the brine...
Sing, ancient Witch, on your crack'd shell,
Sing and wash your skin so fine.

Rose as scepter, dark and fearsome,
stars to light death's luminous blade
curved to catch the careless kelp
to be placed before the Witch.

Chorus

The Queen laughs at all her ribs
that have been broken by her music,
She selects one for a rotting sailor.
Placing it in Adam's ribcage,
She waves her scepter, HE'S ALIVE!

But in the process the wounded Rose breaks,
sending cracks up her hand and arm!
When, at last, it breaks her heart,
she falls apart into the sand.

Chorus


[Bridge
By her husband she will lie
A pile to fill an hour glass
For it was meet that she should die,
for then they will embrace at last


SoulSurvivor
aka Write of Passage
and Invisible inc
Catherine Jarvis

Idk, but it seems to me this site may be going insane. It drives my wee android computer crazy!! Is a crash on the horizon? I'm moving my poetry to a stable place. I've tried to reach Eliot. Nothing. Oh, well.

I suggest Allpoetry. Excellent.


💔 Catherine

Here I am
In your crazy ward
You've given me
The nut award
You keep me locked
You haven't heard?
I have a Sword...

It's called the WORD!

I've been chained
Yes, I've been bound
You've tethered me
To the ground
You smeared my
Good name all around
I've "lost my mind"?
NO! I'ts been FOUND!
You can't keep
The Faithful DOWN!

I'm C - R - A - Z - Y !!!
I don't fit in.
An aberration...

I'm C - R - A - Z - Y !!!
I don't belong
To any nation...

I'm C - R - A - Z - Y !!!
Won't play this
On your radio station...

I'm  C - R - A - Z - Y !!!
Guilty By association

According to some
It is a vice
To follow a man
Named Jesus Christ
But
He paid my debt
At such a price
I won't forget
His sacrifice

He healed the sick
The blind could see
Cleansed lepers
Set the captives free
He opened the door
To eternity
If belief in Him
Makes me cra-zee
Then lock me up
And throw the key!

[chorus]

Now, as then,
It's Satan's will
To use his cat's-paws
And his shills
Christ, crucified
On Golgotha's hill
He was shunned
And he was killed
But He ROSE!
HE'S LIVING STILL!

Our cities razed
In Satan's wake
All we've given
He just takes
Though I may burn
On his high stake
Though I cry, oh,
Though I shake
I won't end up
In the fiery lake

[chorus]


SøułSurvivør
(C) 7/6/2017

Hey! Ladies & gentlemen!
All you girls and boys!
Put away TV remotes!
You have some NEW TOYS!

We have a job that's just for YOU!
It's easy! You can TRY!
WE WANT A PERSON IN THE GRAVE...
Just hear our slanderous LIES.

You know that woman over there?
She don't do as she should
She's had a hundred boyfriends
What's more she beats her kids!

You know that guy downstairs from you?
Investigation's goin' on
Law Enforcement knows about it
MOLESTING KIDS IS WRONG!

NO! DO NOT CONFRONT THEM!
WE have a way to delve
Heaven forbid they know you KNOW
So they DEFEND THEMSELVES!

No. We'll do it THIS way...
We'll do it real SLY
Don't worry bout a thing my friends
Don't matter how they CRY...

Just go ahead and spread the WORD!
Tell everyone! Their friends!
I'll teach you some OTHER TRICKS
To help make their life END.

If we do things all just right
Use my sadistic guide
You'll see that we can cleanse our world

BY THEIR SUICIDE.

Don't worry. It'll be easy.
It's quite simple to do
You will find that you won't mind...

BE GRATEFUL IT'S NOT YOU.



SoulSurvivor aka
Write of Passage aka
Invisible inc aka
Catherine Jarvis
(C) 3/13/2017


The creation of madness always begins
With SLANDER. Imagine. All of a sudden
"Everyone" is against you! You can't figure out WHY. BECAUSE YOU'RE COMPLETELY INNOCENT

PART I

Hey! Ladies & gentlemen!
All you girls and boys!
Put away TV remotes!
You have *some NEW TOYS!

We have a job that's just for YOU!
It's easy! You can TRY!
WE WANT A PERSON IN THE GRAVE...
Just hear our slanderous LIES.

You know that woman over there?
She don't do as she should
She's had a hundred boyfriends
What's more she beats her kids!

You know that guy downstairs from you?
Investigation's goin' on
Law Enforcement knows about it
MOLESTING KIDS IS WRONG!

NO! DO NOT CONFRONT THEM!
WE have a way to delve
Heaven forbid they know you KNOW
So they DEFEND THEMSELVES!

No. We'll do it THIS way...
We'll do it real SLY
Don't worry bout a thing my friends
Don't matter how they CRY...

Just go ahead and spread the WORD!
Tell everyone! Their friends!
I'll teach you some OTHER TRICKS
To help make their life END.

If we do things all just right
Use my sadistic guide
You'll see that we can cleanse our world

BY THEIR SUICIDE.

Don't worry. It'll be easy.
It's quite simple to do
You will find that you won't mind...

BE GRATEFUL IT'S NOT YOU.


SoulSurvivor
(C) 3/13/2017

"""@,,,,@""'@,,,,@"""


sing to the King of kings
worship our mighty Lord
maker of everything
mountain to shore

sing of His faithfulness
worship His Holy Name
bow to His countanance
always the same

bring Him a song of hope
bring Him a song of faith
sing Him a song of love
all who have breath

creation speaks aloud
stars have their tales to tell
waves on the distant shores
whisper in shells

all of earth's creatures
cry out their stories
listen and you will hear
God's Glory

they bring Him songs of hope
they bring Him songs of faith
they sing Him songs of love
unto their death

lost ones speak muteness
people without a spark
closed mouths of unbelief
sleep in the dark

Lord, wake the silent ones
open their ears to hear
part lips to cry out loud
with love and fear

let them join in the choir
teach them a new thing
let every mouth proclaim

Christ Jesus King


soulsurvivor
(C) 2/26/2009

~~~



If you read this poem
PLEASE READ THE WHOLE THING.



I believe in the 5th dimension
I believe in Planet X (Wormwood)
I believe in evil aliens (demons)
I believe TV is dreck...

I believe in the Georgia Guidestones
They're satanic... Mason made
I believe that we must battle
For Freedom, honor, and be brave...

I believe that there are forces
Most of us don't recognize
I don't believe the lies
they've fed us
I really cannot sympathise...

I believe that there are angels
I believe in demons too
Just because we do not see them
Doesn't mean that they are not true.

Many folks will think me crazy
With this onus I must live
I'm getting my own house
In order
Here's advice which I must give...

PLEASE. The news is of the devil.
The media is telling lies.
The only thing you have to do
Is look at the history
they've disguised...

PLEASE. Just look at JFK.
Look at Martin Luther King.
If this doesn't tell you something
Then you haven't learned a thing.

Corporate governance
Running nations
The USA is no longer great.
We've sold out to other countries
Our Bill of Rights has met its fate...

Folks, there's no more Constitution
That is something of the past.
Our president's writing exec orders
And the end is coming fast.

But I believe in God the Father
I believe in Christ the Son
I believe in the Holy Spirit
I believe the three are ONE.

I have no fear for I am certain
That LOVE IS STRONG. Yes I do.
Please my friend, do not be fearful
But I ask one thing of you...

Love's the only way to counter
The forces of a raging hell
LOVING PEOPLE IS MY CREDO

Please let it be your own as well.


SoulSurvivor
Catherine Jarvis