It is said to be true :
(1) That the Spirit dwells within the body
(2) That the Spirit is more important than the body
(3) That they must be opposites from the beginning

The spirit lives on
The body doesn't
If the spirit is evil it will
destroy a good body
If the spirit is good it can save an evil body

This give and take and conflict molds the destination of both

There's no food for the body
Unless the spirit challenges us to sew the seed

There is but one body
There is but one soul

Both fighting to take total control

Will vs Will

Who will be supreme in the end ?

"Thy Will be done on Earth as it is in Heaven"

Like a coin there are three sides to everyone

What is there not to like ?

What is there to be liked ?

What a lot of What-a-burger
cough , cough , could you step back out of the light ?

I caught you with your finger in the hole

the one that plugs the leaking waters of the ****

Saw you hike up your skirt
just checking to see if all was tight

Yes I wonder if you are all right

I do the same myself

I opened up many doors
just to have them slammed in my face

What if we all were born of age and reversed the time that went ?

Would we fret the womb and the unaging going back ?

When I pause to think of you I try to not tarry long

It was just a lighter shade to the pale of winter and it was just a hazy song

The clouds regurgitated  lightning
while booms reverberated
off the walls
Meanwhile I was feeling up my indifference
by holding a glass of soured milk and honey tasting like frustration that shattered from the pressures of despair

(The things I ask of myself while sitting in the dark)

I shoulder the borders of everything . . .
of the nothingness trapped inside the air . . . is Atlas crushed ?

All the holy mole of mountains that I've stumbled over , am I saying I never really cared ?

The indentations of life ,
the craters that I plunge carelessly into . . . can I crawl my way back out ?

That sentence in the book of life ignored returns , was it just to haunt me . . .
or is it a reaping of the sorrow that I chose to sew ?

A toxic attitude , from the grapes of wrath , has it aged well in the bottles of time  . . . do I keep drinking up the past ?

Twisting around it's not the worthy that I find

Yet . . .

A finite year of imperfection it surely was
that indeed .

What we know about God is what he has revealed to us .

It isn't up to us to figure things out about God , but to understand what he has revealed to us .

It is no use for a man to say ,
"I have made up my mind upon certain things ,"

and to keep doggedly fighting over those matters , while , at the same time , the whole of his life is unkind , ungenerous and unlovable .

Yes , by all manner of means be a martyr if you like ; but do not martyr everybody else .
(Spurgeon)

You've heard before ,

"You are what you eat."

That goes for the body

For your health

and for your soul

Adam and Eve

made the choice

and forever changed

all three

True religion
begins in the heart

The heart is the ruling power of manhood

You can enlighten the
understanding of man

But if his heart is wrong
the understanding only enables him to sin with a greater disregard for the responsibility resting upon him .

Looking out my window
the stars are mine to keep
The corner light lights up nothing more than
the asphalt on the street

I thump my pencil against my thumb
Whilst I wander aimlessly Lost in the past
not liking what I see

I feel my insides twisting tight
My breathing becomes restrained
while going over all the errors . . .
it softly begins to rain


I let out a confusing sigh
as the thoughts fade away to die
I long to confess on paper
giving answers to all my questions why


I'm looking out my window
The stars no longer looking in
Both are burning wasted time
Tomorrow . . .
I'll do it all over for the millionth time again

Inspiration
is fleet and fast
Look away for a second
and it has passed .

I care not
for the knots
the fingers
crave to touch

Like splinters
beneath the nails
are the grains of
my contemplation

Snowflakes
that flutter down
melt so fast
in the fires
of destination

The cradle is
the ladle of life
dishing out
the grueling days

We stack up
board feet
by the yards
to build a house of
cards

And when
the snow has melt
the springboard floods
wash it all away

A job
done right
is never finished

A job
done wrong
is a certain do over

A job
never attempted
is wasted potential

A job
avoided
leads to
suspicion

And suspicion
leads to
no job at all

Death . . .
the great equalizer.

The surest cure
to brazen  ambition .

Kings , Queens , princes and Popes ,

Generals , dictators , and those with false hopes .

As evil does , so it will be .

Fall so fast and hard
toppled like a cedar tree .

The vine's been cut
the branches wither

All the fruit so vile and bitter

All will burn in the heat of fire ,

the briars and vines and wooden liars .

There are 34,000 types of emotions

I don't know that many words 🤔

I wonder what I am missing ? 😳

That emotional feeling of being run over by a Mack Truck I hope to avoid

But I am sure there are others equally as bad queuing up to show me .
              🫣

Sunshine and
jelly beans
. . . some of the most
common of the ordinary things

Playing cards in bicycle
spokes . . . they could hear us coming , no joke !

No one could outrun me in my red Keds hightop tennis shoes

Staying after school for misbehaving in class
wasn't cool

Playing square ball as the autumn leaves fell . . .

Golden sunshine , Queen of the woods , a magical spell

I was living in my best imagination

I was nowhere . . .

then everywhere , giving it my all to tell

Maybe not trenches
maybe just graves
Where I've laid all
my treasures ,
memories and rusty knife blades .

When I'm flying at 30,000 feet
All that separates my life from death
is the silvery skin and my dubious breath

Roman candles or Greek fire ?
My curosity dares me to inquire

What happens in the night
stays in the night

Open wide
the gates of Hell
The butterfly effectually
flutters to false intent
from that organelle

From double hearted
wing beats
the flattery will not cease
Proudly inciting insolence
from the center of the beast

It takes a coal
from the altar
that the lips must kiss
To purge all iniquities
to burn on the bliss

Yes I do .

It's fast approaching
almost a year
And I am a reflection
of the love that
just suddenly
dissappeared

I ran through the gauntlets
of the turmoil's selection
All of the emotions
from hate though dejection

I know it's all part of his
plans
What's best for me I just don't understand

But when I look
at your pictures
I'm struck with the fate
realizing that there's really no definition for the phrase

. . . too late . . .

Mark down
the seconds between
the flash and boom

That's the distance
True love blooms

I see the nest you made

I say farewell to the
ups , downs , and the degrees . . . those ****** degrees

I just can't remember who to send them to

There's dust on the eyes
of the dreamers

Ripples on the water from the skipping ****** dreams

Still the thoughts
hold on to everything

. . . and nothing

Set my wings free

It's not the weight of a feather
that crushes you

It's the fear that it could

Time is the tick that ***** the tock out of you

Death is that time share you bought long ago thinking you'd never use it

Yesterday was the first day of the rest of your life . . . .
and your last

The future holds no favors
The past all your grudges
The present by your *****

Did I leave anything out ?
Did I hold anything in ?
Did I forget a thing ?

A feather for your thoughts

I asked God for the truth .

And he said "You will know the truth , and the truth will set you free."

But he didn't tell me it would make me sad .

The word I have to keep .
Spelled with an 'o' after the "t'  because I haven't got a leg to stand on .

Welcome all ye sinners
to Super Bowl 2025 featuring the Sanhedrin's Sadducees vs the Ostentatious Pharisees

This years winners will receive the coveted Unforgivable Sin Cup bestowed upon the biggest non believers.

The Sadducees are out to break their record streak of losses of no wins since 70 CE

Inspitte of failing to achieve the winning cup in ages Head coach and Chief Priest Joseph Ben Caiaphas  will again attempt to snap his losing streak . He was quoted to say ,"Not winning in so long is just insane !"

On the other side the Pharisees are led by a two head coaching team rabbis  Shammai and Hillel . Their success they attribute to the philosophy of hit them hard and **** them and send them to the afterlife .

Head Referee again and for eternity will be Jesus Christ who has never missed a call . Backup refs will be Matthew , Peter , and Paul .
Head medical specialists on the field for both teams will be John .

Halftime show will feature the Romanesque Five fresh from their smashing success show at Masada

Trombone bones
don't make a poem
Funny that you ask

I wonder why or what
made you cry
Now I have to ask

"The bones are
then laid bare
upon the Sands of Time
and sun bleached pure"

"We hang by threads
until we cut
the rope of life that binds"

Then the funeral proceeds
down the street
Clairenets , trumpets
and trombones

Life is a chance
a game of dice

Won't you roll the bones
with me

30,000 troops sent to the border
A massing for attack ?

Opening up places to concentrate people
Homeless , opposition , and those who exercise rights

When will the exterminators come
declaring that the righteous are fake ?

WHEN 98% of the people contain only 2.6% of wealth they've devised a plan to take out the rest

Birds of a feather flock together with Un , Putin and Jinping .

There are only victors and victims on the ****** skin
when it comes in the name of war

I closed my eyes
to the coolness
of the room
Drifted off in thought
and was gone too soon .

I'm looking for salvation
by the wounded hours of night

I'm thinking of a giant to the ****** of my plight

My pen lays as idle as the silence of the slain
As I've aged I wonder if I will ever write again

The thoughts go tango to a dance that subtlely denies

The words are rudely gathered then told they've been denied

Someone dared to ask me
if I lived in
a graveyard
of shattered dreams

After a moment of silence all I could say was , "Yes ,  so it is as well it seems."

The paper islands exists far out on an inky sea

The words have stowed away on the boat and sailed far away from me

She  was disprivilged
Left so dejected
Rejected from from her Earthly paradise

The rose fell off
but the brier whereon it grew remains

It was Leg-O-lass ,
we called him
one pocket *** ,
so skinny he
could hide behind
a nail .
And then there was
Dumbledork
He could ****
a cork
out of a bottle
of wine .
And ***** the Bobbit
and his family of
incestuous relations
Frito , another little chipper off the block.
Then Sam-so-unwise Gangrene , who dressed in disguise as the wobbling Idiot of Shire .
And as always Flpping and his cherry friend Huckleberry , who was looking at a 'Play Podiatrist' centerfold , a magazine full of pictures of naked hairy feet .

Mostly clear , 44° , 26% chance of rain

🙄    ***?

It was a song
A funeral song
Boom-Boom-Boom-pause-Boom-Boom

It wasn't for fun
but just in case
Their time on Earth
was nothing but debasing

This was no taut-song
Not for or because
of the masses
It was beating dead mules
with more than multiple lashes

All of the princes
and their King
bring pain , confusion
and suffering

Long not for the king
For he is a walking disaster

They are the hard of face and infirm of heart
Brazen is their gaze

They carry a shameless attitude standing firm in unyielding fields of maze

Even stubborn
in their proven guilt
They are fleshly grasping traitors

Like insubordinate children
with sardonic wiles
dedicated Chaos is their choice to savior

The riddle wrapped itself in cloaks of wit and crowns of understanding

The parable parallels the fables with skins and lofty feathers

The riddle was obscured
Left lacking in explanation

Meanwhile the parable remained hidden
Left for future days

The implications of gratitude are like the hot dusty desert winds
leaching out the moisture
dessicates within

Then when the roots run rock shallow the fortification begins

Their indications of agreements entered into
are but less than followed through

Meanwhile the mountains of probability will be forested thick in their nakedness of shame and agit with the flux of futility

Then the riddle will be left perplexed , lacking insight it will not be able to see the forest for the trees

Martha loved to be of  his service

Mary loved his presence

He loved both the same but his time was not unlimited

Who would Martha serve after his was gone

While Mary would carry him in her heart as time would spurry along

The office of Physical Death is next to the Office of Eternal Life .

It just takes a few steps and you are there .

Growing old
is nothing more than
the lengthening
of one's shadow
as it
stretches into
eternity and
is seen no more

When one is loved
A vine's entwined
It burns at both ends
Heat is the sign

From branch to vine
From branch to fruit
Hearts caught in the middle
Are soon turned to soot

An ill-built wall
of stone and brick words poorly joined , not motared but plastered with white wash and held together by precarious tension .

You will know who your spirtual self is , whether good or evil , by the actions of your heart .

You may think you are in control . That's the deception from the start .

You can tame your wild steed spirit with knowledge , understanding and wisdom .

Wisdom releases the intuitive wizard inside your mind than can tame the chaos that behind your eyes resides .

We are led by our own desires

Not inspired by God

The wish is father to the thought

Born from what's desired

If something can't go
on forever . . .
it won't .

It is wise to consider
the end before it actually comes upon you .

A hard knot must have a harder wedge

Accused of six string
love songs
mere melodies by the way
My fingers bleed just for you
The one string solos soar fretlessly up the neck of love
The lies of falsetto are bassless

Screaming , "What?"
. . . does no good .

Turn your hands inside out . . . you , the magician
tricked me out .

A childhood playground
(swinging up and over the the bar) . . . a distance too far to accomplish . . . come toppling down bar to  ground . . .

So I lofted my dreams higher than possible , improvable saith the powers that be .

I turn over in my grave before I've been buried or depositioned

Yes I've sinned over and over and made my Jerusalem look like Heaven

Let no stone remain on top of another

Let no word
persuade another
unless it be
the truth

I leave the words
to be the pale wind combing through the limbs of bare trees lichened in hopeless desparation

. . . consummatum est .

I am not your autumn's  moon
I am not the winter's gloom
I am not the words uttered under your breath .
I am more than the disguised antagonist to your angst
I am more than the good luck you keep to yourself
I am the shadow to your depth
The zero to your worth
I am more than your curse

When Bablylon
conquered Jerusalem
they took everyone as slaves back Chaldea . Everyone except the
weak , the meek , and the Poet Freak .

I had
my seven bridges road

watered potholes full of river water and muddy toads

Black moccasins . . .
poison pastors
in disguise

******* on frozen popsicled lies

I had my reasons
that made the tires spin . . .
under
the southern stars
and cotton candy skies

I had my moments of love's respite
while I rearranged
the letters to the questions why

No matter how
it mattered
it doesn't anymore





I once drove
over seven bridges
on muddy roads . . .
in fog and moonlight
but I will no more

no not for you anymore

Only 7% of the world's total population of 109 to 119 billion people are alive right now .


Like the Smashing Pumpkins say , the killer in you
is the killer in me

Everyone
somehow , somewhere , someway

Is responsible for causing the death
of someone else

"You have severe arterial fibrillation . You need attention now or you may have a stroke and die ."
I said Doc , "I'm not afraid of dying . I'm afraid of living."

I was to catch her
in  the rye
Maybe maybe
say goodbye

Alex stood naked
cloaked in orange
singing shivers
in the rain

We all know
how the story goes
So it goes
So on it goes

El Bib the acronym
To be read
back and forth
from end to end

Huckleberries
the river flows
down wrong paths
Big Jim he knows

I was the phoney
in the rye
A clockwork orange
in disguise