Rash thinking and emotional fervor abound. Nap time is a no no and respect is demanded no earned. Every hour of the day is play time and I do not have to share my toys. You have cooties and I don't like you. Now look at the children who are trying to act grown up and examine the leaders we have today. In many cases what is the difference?

Just a few cents is all they say it takes. Then you can save a life in a far away land. Combined with the efforts of others you can feed a child. What does it really mean and why has it taken so long. For decades we have been feeding the poor, yet they continue to come, more and more. Where does the money really go, has anyone ever truly ask? Is it some kind joke or a Ponzi scheme that never ends. Why can't we just give the money directly to those we would like to help, then we could truly see what a dollar a day means to someone else.

Drip , plop, splash go our efforts. Into the giant pool of humanity go our efforts. Into a giant bucket with a hole that leaks out what we put into it, our human efforts meet with futility as we try to resolve the problems of our world. Until the minds and hearts of others can join together and accept that we are all human, the best intentions will just be drops in a leaky bucket that will never get filled.

Crude and unfinished I am pushed into the flame. Again and again the master brings me through the holy fire. Each time I am drawn out, a few more imperfections are taken away. Each time I become more than I was before. In the forge of trial I am prepared to be a worthy vessel. By testing and the purging heat of Gods spirit, I am drawn through the flame of tribulation. The hammer falls upon me and I am quenched in the sacred blood. Until he is satisfied that I am ready and worthy of his work that he has set for me to do.

From my veins into the pen go the words. Each line filled with my own essence. Like cuts in the flesh, the implement draws out into the paper, leaving behind a piece of my soul. The crimson letters that are filled with my life's blood reflect the inner most parts of myself. From passion to hate and many things in between, I write myself into the work. Through the pen that saps the life from my veins so that my blood flows from it's tip and lets the world see what I think and feel.

The bouquet was thrown and the cake was cut, away we went on the honeymoon. Joy and bliss soon gave way to what is this, you fixed for my supper. Surprise and wonder of love had worn off. Now all that I have is work in my thoughts. She sits at home and watches TV all day and waits for me to get home and talk about my day. Then 6 months in oh what a surprise, the test she said with a glint in her eyes. Oh no please don't say, yes a baby is on the way. I thought marriage would be days of love and bliss, nobody ever prepared me for this. Now hormones begin to kick in, I can do nothing and oh not that again. She can't fit into her clothes. She looks at me like that and I have to lie, no you don't look fat. The tears flow for no reason at all, perhaps I will give her mother a call? Now I can't decide, should I make the call or commit suicide? As the joyous day gets near, I realize that I was never prepared for our first year.

I gave not thought for tomorrow and cared only for today. I did not think what would come after or that I shouldn't live my own way. Pursuing the things that satisfied my own selfish needs, oh how many warnings I ever failed to heed. What a sinner I was before the lord came and found me. Oh how lost was I until Jesus set me free. Now I walk daily in Gods eternal peace. Oh the joy I could have known, if I had only listened you see, to the sweet message of salvation that Jesus had died for me.

You took my heart away and shattered it into pieces. Now I ache just thinking about you. My eyes cannot see, because the tears cloud my vision. Just like a cold rain, they drench my soul and leave me numb. I fear that I will salt the ground and where they fall nothing again will grow. Though I pleaded with you, my words fell on deaf ears and now you are beyond my sight. So I will sit here in sorrow for a while longer, until my eyes are all dried up, but until then I must let the tears fall, for I miss you so.

I am alone, there is no point in looking for someone to keep me company. I have been deserted by everyone and now all that is left is the inevitable. I just have to find the courage to take the next step. Who knew it would be so difficult, one way is quick and one is slow and painless. Another way makes a statement and perhaps makes people think. A razor, a gun or an overdose of drugs, does it really matter how I meet my end?

Tides shift and ideals change, as the world goes through transition. Tensions rise between the old and new paradigm as philosophies change between the old and the new. Turmoil ensues as the causalities rise and both sides let blood flow. New rulers rise that are mired down in the old ideologies while new ways are created by those who wish to mover forward, but are held back by the shackles of fear that keeps others from embracing change. So a storm rises and chaos erupts as old generations pass and new ones come into being. The lightning flashes and the thunder claps as the world goes through the pains of the climate of change.

Plastic rings clog up the oceans and dark pools of oil stain the shores where white sand once lay. Smoke fills our lungs and the air is darkened by ash and soot. We pour poison into our food and water and wonder why our children get sick. We believe that all things are never ending, but in reality all things are finite. We fight over ideologies and people starve when there is more than enough to share. So as the bodies pile up and species become extinct, we must ask ourselves, can we recycle the earth?

My way or the highway. That is the current trend. We cannot have a conversation, because your words will offend. I need my safe space and where is my therapy dog. What has become of us, where has courage gone. There used to be a will to fight, but it has gone away. We have given in to hate and let children have their way. Elders are treated with contempt and no one can agree to disagree. Nobody wants to be responsible, how can this be? We have given up our will to fight and stand for what we believe. No one will pay a price, they just give in you see. So when the next generation takes control and in time they will. Because we gave in to their intolerance, it is we who will pay the bill.

Turn my skin into an inferno, make me sweat at your touch. Light my passions by taunting me, withhold from me that which I desire so much. Use your imagination and devise ways to make me feel ****** pain. Cause me to writhe beneath you as I long for you to give me release. Make me burn with passions heat until you hear me beg.

You are not the right size. You must be taller. Your hair just won't do the way it is. That color doesn't suit you. Chemical transformation, dieting to starvation. Implants and plastic surgery with a nip here and a tuck there. Exfoliate this, and wax that until your skin is a Rosy raw. Fit yourself into a dress that will not let you breathe and wear shoes that you weren't born to walk in. Strike the pose and bat the plucked eyelashes. Stain your lips and cheeks the color of a sunset or a blood sacrifice, depending on the occasion. Through the inquisition of fashion that we are told will makes us liked and pretty. What was once a simple matter has become torture and now beauty has become pain in order to become what we are told we should be.

When at last I shed my burdens and the new day's light shines upon me. I will rise to meet the new tomorrow and what ever might be waiting upon me. Through the long night I have been wearied, but now the day has come. I will bathe in the bright pure light as I at long last see the son. So I bid welcome to the everlasting morning and walk through the gates of Pearl. I will be greeted by my lord, as he welcomes his child home. No more will I cry for as my tears have turned to joy.

A woman stains her white shirt and show frustration, I pull out my pad and draw down the design that she has made. She cries that her shirt is ruined, until I offer to buy it from her. A young child on a sidewalk drops ice cream on the hot pavement. The child cries as it splatters, but I take a picture before it evaporates, then I offer the child a dollar to settle her down. In ordinary things that others find annoying, I can find some of my best and most creative ideas.

If one soul is saved and spared from the eternity of pain, oh how the angels will sing. For each child of God that is returned to the fold, with divine joy the heavens ring. Oh wonderful it is when just one soul is saved.

Ships fly to distant stars as DNA strands twist in the wind. Cities rise on Red desert plains, as two moons rise in a Green sky. No one is without their senses and taking flight is as easy as speaking the word and off you go. Animals can speak to us and we no longer need to do them harm. The air is clear as it was on the first day. Oh what imagination can create, if only we can translate the miracles into our reality.

Rows upon rows of white stones glisten in the sun. A silent guard keeps the watch day and night. The bodies like undisturbed, waiting for the final trumpet to call. Hero's all they fell, when they did their duty. Now people walk among the graves and wonder at the markers. They see the names of freedoms defenders. While around the sacred piece of land images of things that have been done sit idly. In bronze and stone the testify to the cost of freedom that is often too high, but a price which many are willing to pay. They did it not for love of self, but for country and liberty. They are the memorial and testament to what it takes to live free.

Oh let my soul be down cast and let the lord be set upon high. Let the mountains tremble at his coming. Let me be as the dust and he as the  mighty Eagle that takes flight as the wind. Let my soul contemplate the ways of my goings and comings and meditate on the instruction of the lords wisdom. Let my soul lament it's folly and sing in the morning with the new day the praises of the lord of host. Let me seek out the council of the lord in humility and with reverence beg his pardon, that I might find rest all of the days of my life.

Clinical and clean, scrubbed down and antiseptic the ****** halls of the world wait. A sedative and a knife and you will be fine. Unborn children killed in the name of choice, heart beats and futures cut out of the womb. Life shortened for a few poor choices. Then to profit from the misery of the patient and the unborn is too horrible to speak of. Like something from a horror novel, yet in reality it lives. Behind closed doors, the abortion, a ***** little secret grinds on, making many rich while devastation lives that will never be known.

Lesser light shine bright into the open spaces let your silver beams caresses my skin. Lightning bugs that illuminate the dark corners of the tree line like phantom eyes, settle in and shine for me. Watch me dance beneath the silver leaves of the Willow. Let my soul go free into the ethos and wander away from the world. Let me become part of the earth and know the feeling of all things that surround me. Let me see from above and below as I realize just how small I am and how big the universe truly is. Let me then share that knowledge with another so that one by one we can all come to respect all things that live around us.

The thunder cracks the night air as the lightning flashes darkness into day. The ground trembles beneath our feet as the very earth moves around us. Our hearts are filled with worry and gone is the quiet peace that we had once upon a time. The wind howls and bends the trees over until they touch the ground. Our souls long to find a way to return to a former peace, but our lives are cluttered with the problems of everyday life. We cry out and ask why can't we hear God, perhaps it is because he is talking in a whisper and not in a thundering voice and it is we who should simply sit and be quiet and listen to what he has to say.

I fade into the ocean and let the surf crash over me. I let my form become immersed in the salty spray. The tide pulls back leaving me drenched in the salty brine. I step slowly and steady myself for the next ****** of the water as it is halted by the breach of the shore. Slowly I make my way, little by little being washed clean by the tide. The ebb and flow of the sea comforts me as I am deafened to all of the outside noise of my life. Then on a quiet dune I sit in the fading sun as I watch the tide recede and I long to go with it so that I might escape the mundane and troubled life that weighs me down.

You feel hot and you feel cold, then you get sick at your stomach. You have trouble breathing and you cannot sleep. You take your temperature and do not want to eat. You feel euphoric, then you get depress, your not sure what it is quite yet. It could be that your coming down with something, perhaps it is the flu, or maybe you are just in love.

Huddled with anticipation of pain and loss, the brave and fearful alike band together awaiting the unwelcome moment. Courage is a scarce thing among the trenches as one by one men crouch to move forward. Across a barren landscape, that is more like the backyard of the grim reaper, they jump out of their holes like frightened rabbits dashing forward into the smoke and chaos. Shouting and wailing can be heard as bullets move by making no sound until they strike something. Valiant though their efforts are, the soldiers are little more than fodder for a cannon that is not pointed at those who started the unreasonable slaughter, but at the common man who was content to work at a trade until rousted from his warm abode and cast into the mud and blood next to his comrades. Now as the smoke settles, men who have long forgotten how to tie their own shoes heave their large masses on to  a table as the groan about the horrors of war, all the while indulging in worldly pleasure as the common fall spilling blood for nothing that affords them any good will. The ones who make the bullets prosper and the politicians speak of how great the sacrifice was, of the common man, while their dogged forms rest safely behind walls of stone and steel many miles away from the harm, an their offspring are not picked to wield the sword or take the harm as these men test out their new machines of war. So onward goes the common soldier, into the fray and the slaughter. Fighting for someone else's ideals, while they give little in the way of thought to his sacrifice, except when it suits their nefarious purposes or is expedient to keep those who remain content that the loss of their love ones were not in vain.

Finally the day is done. The road has been walked and the battles have been won. The bodies lay scattered around the fields as the dead try to find rest. The noise of conflict is over and the despots that have wrought evil are laid to waste. Human life has been reduced to the value of a piece of iron that can be hurled from the end of a gun. Now those who are left must pick up the pieces. There are no victors because there is no spoil in a battle ravaged land. What ever counted as treasure is worthless to the poor and the infirmed. The blind and the lame do not value gold or silver. The orphans do not care for diamonds or other precious stones. The only comfort is time, perhaps it will mend the broken and heal wounds. For now it is done and the ideals that were fought for have been forgotten. Perhaps it would have been far better if we had just ended it all and started over.

A day may come when the lord has had enough. He will simply for a moment step away. When we have all but rejected him, perhaps he will take a personal day. God could go for a walk on the edge of the universe or create another world. Perhaps he will stop by a coffee shop and order something to helping him through his day. He might just sleep in and hit reset on his eternal clock. If we keep ignoring him, then perhaps he will finally just say I need a day off. What a long and unimaginably bad day that would be.

The only words I know are life and death. The only game I know is being the only one left. The streets are where I will be judged. You cannot live while you hold a grudge. You always got to be strapped if you want to stay alive. The game we play is for keeps, there is more at stake than a corner to sling, this is just like a coke, it is the real thing. People sell their lives for a couple of grams. The racket has made me who I am. The cars and bling are just for show, it is how I let everybody know. I am not faking it, I am living out this ****. I made my first **** when I was 15 now at 25 they call me a king. I am all that in my neighborhood. Saint or sinner, only history can be the judge of me. I hope one day that my mother and God will forgive me. I was born under a bad sign and in a life of poverty. The streets are the only way I see that is left for me. So I will venture out one more time, riding with my homies, hoping I can make it back from the edge alive. With each deal I finalize I become richer, but each time I can feel it all getting nearer. The po po are always on my case, it is truly life or death in this rat race. I just hope that my 9 will get the job, an early grave or life in the penitentiary is not how I want to end my run. So until I find a way out of the game, I will just keep living by the gun.

Under the shadow of his holy mountain I shall seek my rest. Beside the still waters I shall refresh my soul. In meditation in the night watch, I shall remember his word. My soul shall seek the secret places where the most high dwells. Though I must walk across the barren waste, or climb the highest mountain, I shall seek after the refuge that is the lord.

My eyes are red and sore, and the morning light has come. The nights have been long, but at last I am done. The wells of sorrow that were inside of me have dried up and the ground can hold no more. I must now find the broken pieces of my heart and put them in a box. I still feel a small bit of regret, but the longing will pass with time. I must now close a door behind me and stare into the on coming day. I do not want to face the new reality of the life that I must now live, but I cannot grow anything on salted ground. So now that I can no longer grieve, I will simply feel nothing for a while. It will be better than dwelling in sorrow and the mire of misery. I hope your journey takes you to where ever happiness is, as for myself I will simply exist day by day. Perhaps I will find a new passion to fill the void that you left in me, but for now the last tear has fallen and I can cry for you no more.

When you see an old woman stranded with a flat and you change it for her and ask nothing in return. When you take food to a neighbor who is down on their luck and leave it without a note. When you just sit and listen to someone's problems and do not say a word. When you give a few dollars that you can spare to a cause just because it feels right. When you think of the welfare of another with no thought for yourself. When an innocent man dies for all of humanity, with no one to help him out. These are some of the things that are God's love.

The ground is brown and dusty as a dark skinned maiden dances in her bare foot wrapped in her colorful robes. Her song reverberates through the air joined in chorus of harmony with others who celebrate her happiness. A child with a small nose and Sea Blue eyes attempts to stand for the first time then falls down and giggles out loud. The music of the laughter causes an eruption of joy from all who see it. A Willow tree blows in the breeze, it's branches whip and snap as two young lovers chase each other around it. Their exuberance for one another fills the air, as the dark haired girl with a crown of white flowers in her hair is chased by her blonde haired lover who's Green eyes shine like two jewels at the thought of holding her hand. Such are the images that words can paint, a picture of what I have seen.

A woman lamenting the death of her child is a tragedy, a bride dancing at her wedding is joy. A mother giving birth is both at the same time. Life does not imitate art, life is art. Each picture is a moment of humanity. Each story needs to be told. To write another persons story is to speak volumes of the world outside of your own sphere of control. Without poetry, philosophy or stories written, we would lose our history and not know where we came from, who we are or what we can become.

Rainbows shimmer and rain drops glisten. Ice crystals shine and certain stones radiate light. Glass windows reflect the colorful lights and hard candy can change hues of color depending on how you hold it up to the sun. Such superficial beauty, could it really hurt anyone? I cherish the things that shine and glow. Life can be so ugly if it were not for all of the sparkly things.

Oh colorful song bird that whistles and chirps with little in the way of a care. How I do envy you and all that you must not worry for. To some you seem so simple, yet you are more clever than they know. You need only exist and be as part of nature. Everything is given to you and many scorn this, because it seems too easy you see. To be born with a song and all that you shall need to know, a simple yet wise existence. To fly around and flutter, until it is time to move on to warmer parts of the world. Then when the earth turns, you know to move again and return back to where you have already been. No map is required for you, you simply know the way. Eating, drinking, flying and singing hold the better part of your day. Until you must move on, I shall envy you for you are wiser than us all. We huddled masses of flesh that scrounge for prominence and gain, while all along you realize that you have all that you need.

The metal bars and concrete that surround me are not what confines me. It is the legacy of pain and misery that I left behind me. A place to sleep is all the same from one day to the next. Life and death come to all who exist. The streets were my school house, but the education did little to prepare me. I never could have imagined the reality of what would haunt me. Images of friends lying in their own blood, children who have no parents because of the drugs I sold. All of this is my prison, I take it everywhere with me. The ghost of my past life always haunt me. They surround me more than any guard or steel bars could you see. These are shackles of my own making. They are the result of my grim undertakings. All for a few dollars and a life I thought I wanted. Now the cost is too high for me to pay and by the broken lives I am taunted. I sit here every night and listen to the echoes of silence. In my head it is a continual song of violence. I can't shake the chains of my own making. I built my own prison with in myself by the path that I have taken.

The gardens in my castle are filled with all kind of exotic flowers. The water from my fountains is purer than a new mountain snow. I am adored by all who know me and I can do no wrong. My touch can turned the gloomiest frown into a joyful smile. I know what each person needs and can give their wish with no effort at all. All of my foes succumb to my graces and refuse to fight. Such is the wonder of the imagined life.

I know that you have walked alone for a while, but I promise I will not be a bother. I know that you have a place that you need to be, but I will not get in the way of your destiny. I just want to stand by your side while you go on your path. Can I walk with you for a while?

Worry not for me for I am fine. The earth is welcoming to me and my soul is gone. On a new journey I am setting out. I am not sure where I will land but the trip is amazing. Out into the darkness beyond the starry light, onward I sail into places unknown. The last glimpse of the weeping mourners behind me, I finally had the courage to break the mortal bands of pain and enter into the eternity what ever that may be.

Cut once, now cut twice, open a vein and let it flow. Out goes the life from within me, onto the ground. The steam rises in the cold air as I grow ashen and pail. Wrap the wound and shiver for the loss. Not so much is let out that it will end me, but enough is gone to let me know how precious life. A dangerous game of cat and mouse with my own life. How long can it really last before I catch up with myself?

Hanging in a place where it can be clearly seen. Delicious to the eye and tempting to the soul. Beauty unequaled, it is what you know you cannot have. Forbidden fruit no matter what the form, is always an enticement.

People shoot each other because one does not believe the same as the other. They claim that there is not enough to go around. Governments hoard resources and say we must conserve. People are dying and little is done to stop the carnage. Those who would be our betters are really no better off. They are forced to hide behind walls and gates and thus are held with in prisons themselves. Our science abounds with miracles and yet no one cares. We teach our children ideals that make them impotent and unable to think for themselves. Where has philosophy gone to and when do we all stop and think? At what point has logic been taken over by emotion? It is as if a disease runs rampant through our societies and no one wants to be cured by simple reason and conversation.

People shoot each other because one does not believe the same as the other. They claim that there is not enough to go around. Governments hoard resources and say we must conserve. People are dying and little is done to stop the carnage. Those who would be our betters are really no better off. They are forced to hide behind walls and gates and thus are held with in prisons themselves. Our science abounds with miracles and yet no one cares. We teach our children ideals that make them impotent and unable to think for themselves. Where has philosophy gone to and when do we all stop and think? At what point has logic been taken over by emotion? It is as if a disease runs rampant through our societies and no one wants to be cured by simple reason and conversation.

People shoot each other because one does not believe the same as the other. They claim that there is not enough to go around. Governments hoard resources and say we must conserve. People are dying and little is done to stop the carnage. Those who would be our betters are really no better off. They are forced to hide behind walls and gates and thus are held with in prisons themselves. Our science abounds with miracles and yet no one cares. We teach our children ideals that make them impotent and unable to think for themselves. Where has philosophy gone to and when do we all stop and think? At what point has logic been taken over by emotion? It is as if a disease runs rampant through our societies and no one wants to be cured by simple reason and conversation.

I narrowly escape my own destruction as temptation looms ever present. I wrestle with a demon that torments me relentlessly. Each day is a struggle and each night I lay in a cold sweat as it whispers to me to succumb. I feel the aching in my bones as the demon rages to be set free. Barley did I escape the addiction that ruined my life, and each day tries to reclaim me.

I narrowly escape my own destruction as temptation looms ever present. I wrestle with a demon that torments me relentlessly. Each day is a struggle and each night I lay in a cold sweat as it whispers to me to succumb. I feel the aching in my bones as the demon rages to be set free. Barley did I escape the addiction that ruined my life, and each day tries to reclaim me.

I bow down and give up my burdens. I turn from the fight. I lay down before the cross of Calvary and seek to know your will. I sit in silence and wait on heavenly guidance. I accept the will of the one who made all things and seek to be taught his ways. In all things I surrender to the supernal power of the most divine. In humility I seek only to serve as a vessel for his will. I wait empty for his holy spirit to fill me. I shall be steadfast in the masters hands, until I  become what he wants me to be.

There are children playing happily in the park, while in another place they are screaming for something to eat. There are people holding hands as they walk in live, while in another place someone sits lonely and forgotten. There are families welcoming a new addition and celebrating new life, while others are lamenting a tragedy caused by someones carelessness. There is a place where not much ever happens and people can walk down the street and get to know their neighbors. In another location a mother is afraid to let her child go outside for fear that the child will be killed. On any given day there are divergent situations. The question is on any given day, what will we do to make it right?

Massive monuments arise from the landscape. Arches and grand structures are cut from stone. A mortal presence conceives a plan to live forever and in an instance, their memory is gone from remembrance. Treasure is amassed and wealth beyond measure is laid out before princes and kings, only to be looted by another when they expire. Folly is the way of man, seeking grandeur and self importance. Try as we might as mortals are toils are in vain. From generation to generation we learn nothing and the lessons still remain. Looking back into history the here and now lends itself to instruction but never hearing or seeing we learn nothing. History is a broken record of repeated attempts at immortality that fail miserably. Books are written and names are carved in stone only to be eaten by moths and eroded by the winds of change. Despite all of our achievements, it is still amazing what we fail to learn.