One nation prospers and another languishes. The people who run the show set up barriers to our understanding of each other. Some starve while others gorge themselves and become complacent. All the time behind the curtain the strings are pulled like a show full of marionettes. Resources are unevenly distributed, while one place sits on vast treasure but cannot get a slice of bread to eat. Others come in and devour the substance of the poor while complaining about paying for the people they impoverished. Despite the best efforts of many with good intentions, a selfish few create sorrow for the masses. They grow full like a tick while they starve the rest for their own selfish ends. If the people simply were to stop and really look, they would understand that there is plenty to go around and that a warm bed and good meal is all that they require and that is enough.

I saw a stranger standing with a sign. It said please help me, and I drifted in my mind. To a night not so long ago, when I was down on my knees. I was lost and troubled and needed help you see. I met a soldier just the other day, he sat in a wheelchair right next to me. I thought of a time when I could not walk on my own. When I had to be carried because I could not do it alone. Then I saw another person lending a helping hand. I thought of the times that I had been that man. In all of these things, I could see a part of me. I could see the man I was, and that Jesus was always with me.

Stay back, don't cross the imaginary line. Obey the rules and you will be just fine. Conform, become whatever you are told to be. That is how you are kept in check, that is how they control you and me. What if you step over, what if you go to the other side? They will discourage you; they will push you back behind the line. So, what is the point of living if you have to become what others want you to be? Isn't freedom an illusion that they try to sell to you and me. What if one day, we all just say fine! We all have decided that we will not conform, that we will not stay behind the line?

We have been bombed, we have been invaded. We have suffered great tragedies, but we have persevered. We fight among ourselves but do not mistake dissension for weakness. We bicker and quarrel, but when we are threatened we will unite. The rest of the world may go to hell but America will survive

we consider it a mystery why we repeat our history, we wonder why we often blunder and fail. The truth lies in our past, we fail to heed its warnings. We wake up only after disaster has struck us down. In the shambles of our tragedy, we bemoan and opine oh why weren't we warned. When the truth lays before us, it is our own arrogance that destroyed us, because we believed that we did not need to remember what history taught us.

Sorrows and love all through adversity. My life is written in a book for eternity. On each page a day is recorded. Kindness and mercy shown on my journey. Each trial I go through strengthens me. Making me better than I used to be. I reach higher even when I fall. I want to do better and leave goodness behind. Perhaps a better world for others to find. Each day that passes I add another page to the book of my life.

They cry about injustice but then want to persecute the rest of us. They say they don't have enough, then they destroy others property. They demand that the government give them equality , but then try to take away what makes us free. Civil rights are only for those who are woke, it might be funny but it isn't a joke. Our leaders aren't what they used to be, they are now friends of tyrany. If we don't say what they want to hear, then they surpress free speech everywhere. Without one nation under God we are divided. So the die is cast it has been decided. Through lies and subversion they have cut down the tree of liberty. You can only be right if you believe what they say. Free will has been taken away. Can it get worse, yeah you bet! Tell me are you WOKE yet?

I sit on the veranda and look out over the fields. Across the land scape of the vineyards that have been cared for with my own hands. As the sun sets I raise a glass of my own making, a fermented bouquet of wine in celebration of of life at sunset.

The world is being torn apart like a jigsaw puzzle thrown out of the box by an angry child. A few are trying to overcome the many by putting them inside a cage. It is if they want chaos instead of order. Trying to contain a free thing, they forget that there are consequences for their actions. They are attempting to push a square stone up a hill only to have it slide backwards again and again. They keep trying the same foolish thing expecting to receive a different results. Despite their best efforts, they will inevitably fail. You cannot control that which doesn't wish to be controlled. It always ends in tragedy that will be recorded by a poet or writer in a Sonnet that will soon be dismissed as a fantasy, while another group finds a new way to fail at what has been tried before. Leaving a shattered world in their wake for others to piece back together.

I found a pair of sandals in a second hand store. They were kind of dusty and they were well worn. I tried them on to see if they would fit, suddenly I began to feel where they had been. I saw a blind man sitting beside the road, I felt as if I had to help him. Then the image moved on, I was standing on a mountain with people below as far as the eye could see, I felt that they had come to listen to me. On and on the images came to me until finally I saw a man calling to me. He had wounds in his hands and feet he was standing on a path before me. As I drew closer, I stepped into his shoes, he said the decision is yours, only you can choose?  So I kept the sandals on and went to pay for them you see. The man who owned the shop said that there would be no charge, simply follow me.

Left or right, liberal or conservative, ideologies do not put food in a hungry child's belly. Foreign aid, domestic spending, in the end, where does the money really go. Trillions are spent by both sides but the poor still seem to be poor. Perhaps we should get rid of  the ideological leaders and give the average person a chance. How would a waitress make the law work, would a carpenter do better at rebuilding our inner cities. Perhaps if we move beyond the politics and let real people have a chance, then the world beca better place.

Divisions are everywhere , society is filled with despair. The liberal liars revel in the chaos. They crave disharmony and lust for power. They despise freedom and embrace tyranny. They want destruction so that they may feed on crumbs of the despair of others. They speak with a silver tongue, deception is worn by them like a shroud. They hide in plain sight among a crowd. Little liars liberals all, sitting around waiting for the fall. So they can pick up the pieces of what is broken and create their utopia. You must simply be compliant and voice no resistance. Just be compliant or they will become insistent. In lock step they come, in unison they March to the same drum. Free will is a danger to their plans. Individual choice cannot be allowed to stand. So they will tell you that you are a nonconformist, they will say that you are not normal like the rest of us. The fact is that there is no compromise there is only one truth. That is what ever they choose.

I picked up a bunch of stones laying around and put them in a pile. I then dug up some uneven ground and began laying the stones down. I worked tirelessly for years building a path. Until I had run out of stones and my strength was spent. Then as I sat down, I happened to look back. I saw others gathering stone and walking on my path. Though they did not see me as they walked past. I watched them laying their own stones on my created path.

I saw her in the bar, sitting down on one end. Her hair laying all wild over her dark brown skin. Her dress was long and flowing, her shoulder straps lay to one side. Her breast could barley kept inside. I saw her looking at me, as she pursed her lips. I walked down towards her and she gave me a wicked smile. I asked what they called her and she magic, she then asked if I would like to get wild. She took me by he hand, and said let's go dance. We let ourselves go into the music, it felt like I was in a trance. From the dance floor to my front door, it all happened way too fast. Clothes flying body's writhing, I can't remember what was first and what was last. All I know is that when the morning light came in my window, she had gone away. There was just a note on my night stand, that said see you again sometime. I'm now under the spell of a girl named magic, who gave me one hell of a time.

One nation under God is no longer the plan. We will fix it ourselves, we no longer need a divine hand. Our government will give us everything, but will leave us with nothing. Just like sheep to the shearing we quietly go along. The heathen have infected the halls of power, now America is divided, there is no room for compromise. They say we have a mountain to climb, but in truth we are lost in a desert. Our moral compass is broken and it cannot get a reset. The seeds of dissension are being planted at every turn. It is no longer about helping, but it is about what is in it for me. United we might still stand but divided from God and each other, we will surely fall.

Platitudes from a silver tongue sooth the worries. High minded promise fill the hearts of many. Things that seem bright are often found empty. Hollow words that promise everything but deliver nothing. So many pretty things that entice and please the ear. Until the platitudes fail and the plan unravels. Then the harsh truth becomes clear that the words are empty after all.

I try to read what is in your eyes, they say that they are the window to the soul. I shiver when you stand next to me. I know that we are friends, but I would like it to be more. I am filled with hope, some of the signs are there, but I have to be sure. I will only give my heart away once, so I must get it right. I just need to know before I go crazy, are you in love with me?

The moment was unforgettable, the waiting came to an end. The words were surreal, time seemed to stop. My heart dropped and my eyes couldn't focus. A shiver ran through me from my toes to my ears. No sound could be heard as everything faded away. I hung on every word the day that the world went silent and he told me he loved me.

I saw a blue bird today. As blue as a Saphier the bird flew by. In a landscape that had gone dreary and Grey a splash of spring came my way. Landing on a fence post the bird just looked around, like a painted fixture out of place . I did not wonder why the bird came by, I only know that I had found unique beauty in a dark winter scape.  Like joy you find in a morning sunrise, after a night of rain. My soul was lifted up in knowing beauty has not left the world around me.

They say with age comes wisdom, but in fact with Wisdom, comes confusion. What I thought I knew I do not know and what was real is now surreal. Time didn't move fast enough when I was young, but now that I am old, it is a precious commodity. Though I have read many books, others opinions now seem less important than my own. If I could impart lessons, I would want to teach only myself. I am not sure what I am supposed to have learned through a lifetime of study, but I am sure it is not what I wanted to understand. The world was a lot simpler when the sky was blue, water was wet and the sun was warm. Now that I have gained knowledge, the more I know the less I understand of what it all means.

The timber is stained with the Crimson flow. The nail holes tell the story. The turning point of eternity, the place where all can become worthy. The Crimson flow that makes you white as snow. The place where a choice is made. On a barren hill, the cross road can heal it all.

Let the cold drops wash over me! Let the water cleanse me! Let my silhouetted form in the Darkness add a sense of Mystery as to why I am here. Some people run from the Thunder, I embrace the lightning from the sky. I relish the cold water as it falls over every inch of me. I shake my head and let my hair flow freely. Water drenches me and sets me free. I become one with the Skyfall as I shed all of my pain. I am what was and will be again, I am reborn in the rain

I know all of the verses and I can tell you what it is about. I can tell you who Jesus is, of that there is no doubt. I can comfort you and pray for you, as much as you like. I can be there for you at midday or at midnight. What I cannot do is take away your sin, there is only one can do that, he is my dearest friend. So if you feel a tugging at heart, don't let it go by. Open up the door and let my friend inside. Despite all of the things I can do, the one thing I can't is believe for you!

I wake up at night in a cold sweat. I toss and turn on my bed. I am afraid to close my eyes for fear I will see my friends. The ghost I left behind, on the battle field. The people on who I could depend. They are gone and I am here and it just not fair. I keep their memory trapped deep down inside, sometimes I cannot silence their voices, I just want to die. People tell me that it is ok, but the weren't there. They don't know what I went through, so how can they say that they care? I keep fighting the battle even though the war is over for me. I guess I just have to accept that I brought the battle home with me.

Our politicians steal our wealth and send it away from our own. They preach to us about how we should embrace the world, as children are starving here at home. We send our young men and women to die in a foreign land, for what we don't understand. Other countries tell us how we should live, then they demand that we give and give. Perhaps we should close the door for just a little while. In fact let's bring every one of our warriors home. We can put them to work solving the problems we have right here. We can step back from the rest of the world and let the caring start here.

The wreath is hung upon my door. The tree is all lit up. The cookies are baking in the oven not much more that can be done. No one comes to call, my door bell doesn't ring. I am sitting alone again among so many shiny things. There are no Carols to be sung, there is no reason you see. I just sit quietly and look out the frosted window as the world passes by me. I don't mind being alone, I have lots of things to pass my time. So many books to read, surveys to be done online. My family is somehow to busy, they have their own lives to live. So I just sit here quietly with so much love to give. I will endure one more holiday by myself. Then I will fold everything up and put my memories neatly on the shelf. I have one lone present underneath my shiny tree, it is to me from me, I can't wait to open it you see. So here I sit alone, another season passes for me. I will be alone for Christmas, but that is all right you see.

I have traveled through life and I have seen many things. I have been to many places and met many people. Though I have never done one great thing, I have given of myself. I have tried to leave kindness everywhere I have gone. Some might think this trivial, but I think it has it's worth. Forest don't come prepackaged neither does a world change overnight. Sometimes you aren't called on to be a great hero, just to be kind to someone in need. Giving a glass of water or simply sitting and listening to a persons troubles is sometimes all that is needed. When a troubled soul is at peace, then hope can begin to grow. With each person helped as I walked down the road. I did nothing extraordinary, I just filled a need. It was really nothing at all, I only planted seeds.

The shadows have grown long and the sun is setting low. My steps have slowed down and fewer friends come to call. The world has gotten faster as I have slowed down. More and more I blend into the background when I go out. I am simply part of the scenery, seen but not acknowledged. My days are all the same, nothing out of the ordinary happens. I have more time to enjoy life, but less life to enjoy. As I see the world move past me, I try to catch my breath. Perhaps it is for the best, if I just care away. I wonder if anyone will miss me when I'm gone?

Just because something looks pleasant doesn't mean it is good for you. A pretty berry can be poison. A elegant person can be brutally cold and condescending, while a person of lesser stature may be warm in welcoming. They say do not judge a book by it's cover. Many persons hide what they truly are. Like a plant that appears to be a delicate flower, only to ensnare you once you have gotten to close, saying what ugliness truly is, often depends on what you define as beautiful for yourself.

Looking for inspiration ,letting the mind wander and the eye catch something to inspire you. In a world full of clutter, getting inspired doesn't always come easy. Some think beauty brings out words, but ugliness can create inspiration. Simplicity is not always the best form, sometimes complexity is required. Finding layers to peel away until you get to the truth of what you are looking for, can be exhausting but sometimes it is worth the effort. Is a cat on a fence, just a cat on a fence? Why is the cat there and what is it's purpose? A muse is not simply one thing for all people, it can be many things for many. You just have to look until you find what inspires you.

Sitting here at 2 am I cannot sleep. The only sound is the ticking of the clock. In my mind I go over what went wrong. we were so happy then it won't all wrong. So moments turn into hours as I wait until daylight comes. In the night I am lost in anxiety watching the hours fade away.

I knock on a door dark as Mohogany . The heavy brass knocker doesn't thunder but taps lightly. I anticipated a forebodeing when this moment came. On the doorstep of eternity I wait for my opening. As suddenly as I drew my last breath, the last barrier fades away and light overwhelms me. As my soul surrender I think to myself, this isn't so bad after all.

I am not sure what is wrong, but I feel that she is somehow different. Perhaps I am paranoid, but I feel that something is going on. She smiles differently these days, she seems to glow with a new light. It didn't come over night, but it is beginning to worry me. She plays with her hair as she did when she first met me. She giggles like a teenage girl, when she is on a phone call but not with me. I fear that I may come in and she will just be gone. Perhaps I worry too much, but subtle changes have been happening for too long.

I walk on egg shells everytime I go out. My nerves are frayed like a split wire. I feel like I am drowning in a river of sweat as I walk down the street. I keep my jacket and hood tight around me. The light of day burns me like a searing iron. Eyes are everywhere and everyone, at least what my paranoia is telling me. I try to walk quickly so we not to draw attention to myself. Getting back inside is all that matters to me. My veins burn and my heart races as I crave the sustenance that calms me. Into my building and up the stairs, the light bulbs flicker and the back ground noises buzz in my head. I struggle to get my key into the lock of the door. The pain grows like a wave inside me, I am living on a kniefs edge and I am about to fall off.

I go into my mind to escape the bland world around me. I fade in to the crawl space of my inner self. Falling into nooks and crannies of the deepest reaches of my soul, I look in the shadows to find secrets that I have kept even from myself. The demons that I do not want to face. The unholy pleasures that I dare not imagine. In these moments I lose my inhibitions and put out the light that exist in the soul. I swim in the ink black sea of what I dare not become. The version of myself that longs for the dark places where I no longer care what I have done.

I watch people rise above me. I see them unscathed by life's worries. As I walk on a straight road, I look ahead and not behind. While others receive acclaim and adoration, I am often unnoticed. What others will not see, I know all to well. At the end of our journey, death awaits us all. Some will be caught by it unaware, but I will embrace my fate with eyes open wide. For I have already won the victory.

I stopped living in other people's reality. I went outside of what was expected of me. I began to explore what could possibly be. Into nature and the super natural, I began to look at what others did not want to see. The further I went the wider my eyes were opened. Then one day while I was walking reality disappeared before me. I saw the pristine world covered in morning mist. I felt drawn towards the illusion and I almost stepped through. Then I was caught with a reluctant fear. I knew with a certainty that if I walked through I would not be coming back. So I reached out for just a moment and touched the window. I felt the ripple of reality like electricity against my finger. Then as if it was a curtain, the rift pulled back together , then faded away. Some how I felt emptier than I had before. For I knew that I had been offered a chance to have what I was looking for, but I was too reluctant to go through the door.

King's rise and fall, tyrants plunder and ****. Nation's make war and have peace. History is filled with those who think they have the divine right to rule . In truth there are those who take and those who create. Those who take hate freedom and want to enslave those who create. In the end of it all, we are no better or worse, because death comes to us all.

Bitterness leaves a bad taste in your mouth. Darkness blinds your sight. Destroying another's life does not gather friends. Fear is not conducive to peace. Living in a world of vitriol only closes you off from growing. It is not an easy thing to live a life of hate!

Tyranny is seductive until the puppet masters reveal themselves. Freedom seems difficult, but being responsible for your own actions is better than chains. Any who would have others make their decisions do not deserve freedom and should not be surprised when they are enslaved. Freedom requires sacrifice, freedom must be earned and protected. For freedom is a precious commodity it is often purchased at a high price, but while it may not be easy, it is well worth the cost.

The flag that once stood for freedom has been folded up and put in a drawer. The Golden rule isn't taught in our schools anymore. We stopped caring and let the government do the job. We forgot that we are one nation under God. People come here and want to change our country to what they are running from. We have compromised our values until we do not know who we are anymore. We have lost America and may never find it again.

The world had grown dark and the light of righteousness was being snuffed out. I was caught with others standing for the cause of Christ. The enemy had taken us and bound us in chains. We were take before the judgement seat to be condemned . Grand doors were opened and ornate fixtures were seen. On a high bench sat the one who would be my judge. One by one we were questioned as the holy spirit spoke through us. Then I was asked how I would plead? I spoke not of Jesus, but of a snow storm long ago. I spoke of giving mercy to a most and desperate soul. In chains I finished speaking by the holy spirit you see. Then a somber mood filled the judgment hall as the chief justice looked right at me. With a stoic look and a chilling refrain, she said I find no fault I now set you all free. Our chains were loosened and as I turned to go, the judge called to me, one moment if you please. I turned and saw an empty room, many others left in astonishment, some in utter disbelief. Then the judge came before me and fell upon me. With a trembling body and eyes filled with tears, she said I know your story of mercy so long ago. For it was I unto who you gave mercy, I was the one lost in the snow. I quietly comforted her and said it is ok. I said it wasn't me who showed you mercy that day. As today when you heard me speak you see. It was not I but the holy spirit that was in me. So I smiled at the judge and left her with a new peace. Finally she knew who had truly set her free!

Sunday comes and I worship God, in a church congregation. I sing the songs and I say the prayers. Then I go out and leave it there. Monday comes and I am back in the world trying to find my way . I feel so disconnected , I wonder why it is this way? He says he is with us he says we are the light, but I feel so guilty I know that this is not right. A voice says I am convicted it reminds me of my past. 6 days until Sunday I don't know how I can last. Then another voice speaks quietly and in peace it says hold on my child I am with you. From the altar to the work site I tried to find some rest 6 days until Sunday I try to do my best. I hope and pray fervently but it never seems to go away the always nagging voice it says you'll never win. Then finally in frustration my soul Cries Out, it's more than just one day of that there can be no doubt, for in Jesus We Are Holy for he is the victor and it's not just one day that we can worship and 6 days be a sinner.

The crowds will be in awe of the one that will say I am him. They will bow down and honor him and call him lord and friend. Oh how many will be blinded by the image of the false light. They will laugh at the faithful few who remain in the fight. They will say we were wrong and that we are undone, at least until the final judgement the day the real Jesus comes. To those who overcome and are faithful until the end, a robe of white and crown of life will be given unto them. The world who was deceived will run and try to find a place to hide, but there will be no place when the true Christ comes for his bride. So to those who rail against salvation, you will be undone. Things will finally be set right, when Jesus finally Comes!

With torches and angry words they riot in our streets. They set fire to buildings and call our public servants Nazis! They cry about equality all the while the preach anarchy! They say they can fix it but they never do. They want you to be angry and hate where you live. If we were only more like other countries, just how great it would be. Their plans have been tried in cities and states in our land. The remnants of burnt out buildings and failed ideals litter the landscape of these places. A so called underclass frustrated and angry rage against the honest and hard working people. They think they can destroy what has been built and remake it in their own warped image. Despite the best efforts from without and within, America the idea still lives! So let the hate mongers rage and destroy where they live. You cannot burn down an idea, it has been tried again and again.

Our cities are filled with greed, crime and poverty. The elite sit in their strongholds and count their ill gotten gains. Our leaders are indifferent to our suffering and expect us to conform to their whims. We struggle for our daily bread, while others sit in wheat fields of plenty. We rage and scream at shadows as we fight against the agents of what we perceive as our oppression. Perhaps it is time to abandon the spires of our imprisonment and return to our past. Perhaps if we leave the so called civilized world and get back to what we once knew, then we can regain our freedom. Should we like locust move from what we have consumed and go onto something new? Perhaps we should just level the playing field, perhaps we should just tear it all down?

I walk past a garden apartment each morning. It faces the rising sun. In the window seal sits a cat looking out as the world goes by. I stop and look at the casual observer who gives me little thought. He stretches his paws forward and closes his eyes. He settles into the warm rays of days first light. I feel somewhat slighted, but then envious, for as I just trudge on into the world, the cat in the window seal lounges quietly, not caring what the world thinks as he watches the it go by.

Pink hats and blood curdling screams! In the streets they riot for no reason it seems. The tall orange man stole the victory. Out from the hands of their savior he took it. It should not be allowed, burn it all down. He cannot do it not again. So they scream and howl like banshees caught in a holy place. On they rage, yes they are deranged.

I keep the curtains drawn and pull the covers back over my head. The sun peers through the window but I prefer dark skies. I have tried to medicate my pain away, but the numbness only makes things worse. At least with the grief, I know that I am alive. I walk around as if I am not with in my own skin. I see , I hear and know, but it is as if I am a spectator in my own life. I shuffle through my existence hoping that perhaps I will just quietly fade away like shadows of the day. I pass a mirror and I see the outer image of what the world sees, but behind the image I project, my eyes strain to hold the tears that are always present inside of me.

Drug needles lay in the streets while people live in the gutter. Neighborhoods fall apart as young men shoot each other over a street corner. A young teenage mother holds her child who is crying from hunger. Leaders bicker over petty politics while their is a civil war going on. People look out their broken windows at burned out buildings dreaming of a better life. Where is this hopeless place you ask? Just turn on your TV because this is America!