If no Christian priorly am i. And should all
I know about the David's Son was from the
Believers' lips. One act of Christ that shall
My vagabond soul convert is that poor lady,
Who was, by the righteous Jews, caught in
The act of adultery, and to the eternal Light
Was brought to be unto death ******. Stooping
Down, and with his finger began he to write
In the sand; rising up again, saying, he should the
First person be a stone at her to cast
Among the gathered accusers, who's from iniquity
Free and has committed, not in the time past
Neither in this present state, a single sin. And
They, hearing this, from the oldest head began
They to disappear--who had come to reprimand
The woman with a stoning sentence--one by one.
Having all gone, Jesus, thus asked the smasher:
"Woman, where are all thine many an accuser?
And hath no man condemned thee?" She answering
The Lord gracious, "No, sir." "Neither do i too,"
Said the Saviour. "Go, and sin no more, my darling."
Yea, such is the Messiah's love and mercy true!
To save came Christ, and not to sinners ****;
The only Prophet that liberated man from the Devil.

My elusive dreams
                           ....Tiptoe, hide         u
                                                         o      n
                                                      r ­            d
Massive  j    g     e                     boulders
                      a    g    d
Hindering me from            a d  v   a    n     c      i      n       g
And doing nothing but  f l i r t i n g  with success
Is the most I can manage
D      n        i
      a       c        n
                                   g        in the S s H h A a D d O o W w S s  of  flying colors
That....
            ........... chase each other
Too  f a s t  for me to catch
And when I do,
Dreams make like minnows
And s
              l       t        e    
                   i        h       r
through my fingers
Just as I thought
I'd caught them

A wife her husband's tool did sever,
Causing him in court to file for divorce
From his cruel and heartless smasher.
And ere the Magistrate with a voice
Mellow the man narrated how his mate,
Prior to that brutality, has been starving
Him of ***, that except to procreate,
She rarely allows him conjugal gendering.

Another pair about which I read, this time,
Howbeit, it was the wife that sought for
Split from her hubby, whose chief crime
Was, again, appertaining to the succour
Of copulation, telling the court that for almost
Six months straight, her man never did her
In the buff behold, let alone upon her crust
And crumb feasted; wherefore depriving her.


Is love acclaimed nought but a fancy fad,
That at last in divorce it at times ends?
The above accounts are no tales, though sad,
By a drunk told. How heart commends
Itself to lovelorness' rack! What about spouses
Also that did their partners ****** for a reason
Dark? Why will married couples their houses
And homes turn into affection prison?


And those couples initially, at first, when
They in courtship were, would truly seem,
The very best peacock and peahen
To themselves--a groom and bride dream.
Was this sight silly and that heart foolish
When they did settle for that guy and girl
Of all babes and blokes admired and cherish-
Ed then, for whom they did daily whirl?

Marriage dissolution is a grave malady,
Rendering relation, keeping parents and kids at
Bay by breaking a once very close-knit family
Apart, and, which also pierces God's holy heart
With anguish; yet we seem to be making light
Of our vows sacred: for worse and for better,
To love indeed forever in good and ill plight,
Uttering promises at the altar that no sooner alter.

Though marriage is beyond the bliss of bed,
Enduring nay by just rolling in a deep hay
Ever and anon, and smooching to the red,
For couple cannot in that mood every day
And occasion be; yet of coitus, each other
Must they not deny for some excuses bogus,
But should sate their oats promptly, rather
Than yielding to concupiscence or divorce.

And what is the mileage of marriage
Betwixt man and wife upon this earth,
Who with their lips did cheerfully pledge
Before witnesses present,--is it the dearth
Of reasoning when to each other said: "Till
Death do us part"? I cannot it truly fathom
Whole, how marital unions break up. But still,
Know I, relationships do persist with wisdom.

Meanwhile, that man's stitched willie will
Not rise as the sun and be on a nymphet
Set again, save by a miracle. But his evil
Ex-wife can go on to relish in ****** couplet.
Thank heaven, he has three offspring from the
Pact; while the latter story produced only one
Child. Many do take a petty lust for a pretty
Love, playing their queen and king like a pawn.

Of course the two of us                        
                                                        want to get away from here
                                                            ­We were so innocent  Running
                                               ­             Hand in hand To the outskirts of this              
                                               Upside – down  town  Where  were  we  going?
                             ­                            To  the  mansion  we  had  built  with  daddy
                                               High in the sky of the     towering sycamore tree
                                                     But now going back           walking the dirt trail that supposedly
                                            brought us to        dreams             Kicking aside pebbles we pushed
                                                          ­     with        all our           might       to
                                                              ­  to        escape              from        the
                 ­                                                 Monsters        ­        chasing    us
                                          ­                         Seeing                              the
­                                                                 ­      Wimpy                   vines
                                                           ­                That                      were
                                  ­                                            once               chains
                                                          ­                    and       shackles
                                                        ­                      intertwined
                               ­                                              imprisoning
                                                                ­           all of the trunk
                                                           ­               seemed   unreal
                                                          ­               But  I  had  made
                                               ­                         Peace   with   it   all
                                                             ­      When I saw our shanty hut
                                                           Atop the mangled, dwarfed skeleton tree

Drowning thoughts drain emotion
Turning tides swarm the ocean
Single gasps of air linger on the surface
Reflecting shadows of intended purpose

I feel nothing

Mind numbingly still

Glazed eyes will ****

Glazed hearts

Vacant sigh

Breathe

Nothing’s wrong

I feel nothing

Skin warm

Stars form

I feel nothing

Nothing’s wrong

Breathe

Vacant Sigh

What will it be like when I'm


                              

                           ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­                   ...gone
when I'm all but dust, will you live?          How about love?
when I no longer walk this earth
                                                          H­ow will it.       u  r
                                                                    ­             t              n

Will you even notice my






                                                        ­                                                                 ­                                                absence

I guess not.

Now I see where we

*                                      S
                                      T
                ­                      A
                                      N
 ­                                     D

Is it a mountain range?
I think that’s strange
To start in the plains
Through the foothills and rains
Over streams and lakes to bulky terrains

Up and down, and up a bigger one still
It starts as a game, one big thrill
The valleys are sweet and the peaks high
How high could they get? To the sky?
Maybe high enough that you can fly!

What’s on the other side? More plains perhaps?
Or maybe an ocean, with breaking white caps?
No one’s ever made it so we’ll just have to guess
Some say at one point the height is much less
But that’s not firsthand information, so I digress

The path is strewn with bodies whose stamina wore out
But signs on their necks read, “This is what it’s all about!”
You can’t know what that means until it happens to you
When you’ve shattered your dreams, and your legs feel it too
But you’ll miss these people who tread paths for such few

Perhaps you’ll find where the peaks get a little lower
You won’t find it by resting, push on! Upward and over!
There’ll be bruises and scratches aplenty for sure
For this wondrous disease there is no known cure
The majesty of the mountains is a deadly lure

So many have tried to reach the other side
They’ve sweat and they’ve bled, they’ve fallen and cried
But to stop is to go mad with curiosity and thought
About what lays beyond, what the dead have sought
So we climb and we climb, even if all for naught

Then we find that perhaps it’s not been worth doing
Were it a play we’d probably be booing
Then we think of the foothills, of much simpler days
When the son shone blinding and we danced in his rays
And we wonder if there was a pass we’d missed on our ways

All the while climbing to the end of our days
As the sun starts to dim but casts a dark haze
And we wished we had enjoyed the peaks
Climbing and climbing for thousands of weeks
And then a slight rose comes to our cheeks

We lie down for a moment and softly cry
Take one final look at the blueblack sky
Then sit up straight, nice and stout
Confidently moving, no shadows of doubt
And don on our necks, “This is what it’s all about!”