Maybe I’d be better off alone
I could eat what I want sleep when I’m weary go where I will hang out with whomever ….or not Allow my muse to rule the day Or…. I could spend my life with you feeding your consuming need bearing witness to the pain of your sleepless nights trying to mend your brokenness, at first tenderly ….then hopelessly Until my heart and spirit atrophy adrift without oar or rudder on the turbulent sea of your emotions With you, I am bound by love without you, I am selfishly free but either way…. I am deeply alone
Can God be God
Without His creation? Would He be Truth Without the testimony of His Spirit? Could He be Love Without the objects of His affection? Is He Beauty manifested Without observation? Can He be the Father Without the Son?
Without faith nor friend Plan nor purpose Only subsistence Do I exist if I cannot see myself thru the eyes of another?
Your paradigm of perfection
Is not mine.... I’m the squared round peg And the squeeze pains me The house in the ‘burbs was bleak .....it never felt like home That nine-to-five racket Bled me like a leech Bowing to the money god Twisted my back and brain Varied brands of religious rectitude Felt elite and hypocritical I need to unchain my heart And embrace who I am Others’ perceptions of me Are suffocating my soul I should follow My Muse Wherever she leads Only there will I find Truth, Love, and Beauty Only then will I find God
Faith believes what the senses belie
Its roots go deep tho the flower is shy Strongly waxing in impoverishment Meekly waning in fulfillment Almighty is Faith’s power Ever gentle, but never cowers Binding humanity to our Creator Loosening the chains of the destroyer Though often flawed in its conception Faith elicits near perfection Though smaller than a mustard seed One's greatest hopes it may exceed Dreams become reality in its presence While reality turns to nightmare in its absence Faith is a mystery I choose not to ponder But rather prefer to bask in its wonder.
He walked along the garden path
cloaked in silent beauty tho His soul screamed out in agony as He struggled with His duty Too soon would time arrest Him and assault His mortal bones stripping Him of dignity to leave Him so alone He stood before the judges who questioned what He taught jeered by crowds of skeptics for the miracles He wrought Soldiers cruelly flogged Him with words and leaded lash till His wounds were sorely bloodied and His Spirit nearly dashed With razored thorns they crowned Him pressed roughly to His head to mock his royal status yet not a word He said Upon His back they laid a cross that no mere man could bear weighted by a world of sin no more could one man care Every step toward Calvary was afflicted with such pain though each was taken willingly to mankind’s greatest gain Along the way was little solace His mother’s tears, most anguished a woman’s veil, the Cyrene’s hands His pangs could not extinguish At last He reached the journey’s end but relief was not to be His hands and feet they did impale to hang Him from that tree His death laid shadow ‘cross the sky the ground beneath was shaken at last they knew God’s only Son was the one whose life was taken They thought that death had conquered Him And His flesh would turn to dust That His memory would fade away while His flock would lose their trust But the Son fulfilled God’s promise His temple twice erected Against all human logic His life was resurrected On that Blessed Sunday men born in any age could now accept salvation and be freed from sin’s outrage For all, and for eternity He duly paid the cost which guilt and sin does yet incur so no soul need be lost!
In acknowledgment of the Source of my inspiration, poetic & otherwise.
A most Blessed & Transforming Easter to all!
Like so many
Lemmings they rush to southern climes for greener pastures year round golf a Slower pace Cheaper prices and Tropical temperatures Leathery Tanned Unnaturally taut and Sun-spotted they crowd the local haunts and Clog the highways. At best they tolerate whoever is not Pensioned or Privileged At worst they ban the Underage Unfortunates from their gated communities and social gatherings The pendulum has swung from a time when the Old were at the Mercy of the Young to the present when Youth is Oppressed by Senescence Once democracy’s backbone they now wax Conservative having obtained their Slice of the pie Now there is no pie Mother Earth has been trampled to death and the Toiling hands of those who Stoke the fires of industry are Blistered and discouraged
You don't have to be old in years to belong to this culture; and even if you are old in years, you don't have to adopt this lifestyle.