It was only for a thrill, just hanging with my friends. Then I needed it a little just to get by. Now here I am alone trying to get high. I never really needed it, I just wanted to fit in. Now I can't live without it and it has cost me nearly everything. The people who got me started, they have all gone away. One is in prison now and two of them are dead. Another has disappeared to where I do not know. If I can't shakes this curse, I may be the next to go. I only know I need it bad, so I struggle day by day. I never thought about getting hooked or ending up this way.

You start out with a fantastic plan, then get distracted by teenage lust. You fall into young adulthood and end up with a little you. Your college fund is now your mortgage payment. A minivan just replaced your 2 door coupe and your sweetheart isn't a beauty queen anymore. !2 hour days are your normal routine and your money just doesn't seem to go as far as you thought. Your spring break to Cancun is the last taste of real freedom you had, but you wish you could remember more of it. Suddenly, your 30 and there are now 2 replicas of you. You get up one day and find that spandex in your pants is not a bad thing. The only exercise you seem to get is when you walk the dog that isn't anything you have bought. So you struggle to get back on track, but the rails keep slipping out from under your feet. Finally you enter a crisis that they say happens at midlife, but you think that your midlife was at 20. So at last things begin to make sense, just as you try to buy a coupe again, only to find that you are too wide to fit behind the wheel. All of these things are your fault, your kids and wife had no part in it. When you finally collapse from the exhaustion of all of this, you wake up and find it is only a dream. The tequila has worn off and you are once again 18. In 5 minuets you forget what you have learned, but somewhere in the back of your mind a road map has been drawn. The question is do you follow it or not.

Specters fly through old cemeteries, and tree limbs creak and moan. Old houses become haunting places for the forgotten and the dammed. Ancient tales are told that send shivers down children's spines. The aged caretaker walks with his lamp near the witching hour. A full yellow moon cast a spooky haze, over the forest and lay shadows through window panes. Ghost haunt halls and closets in the night as old specters rise again.

Haunted spirits that are specters of another world. Moaning souls that are far from their lush green home. Cast out beyond the stars lamenting their voyage into the unknown. Sent by overlords to seek out another persons fortune, only to have their lives cut short by the dangers of an unforgiving planet. Jupiter rises in ascendancy and claims those who have tempted his wrath. Now it holds them prisoner in it's rings. They float along howling in silence as they see their reflections in the sparkling particles of ice and dust that encircle the name sake of the God of war. Peering beyond to the shining blue ball that they left for fortune, now they lament in eternity and loneliness hoping for some brave soul to come hence and follow on and perchance give them company and relief from their cold torment as they sit so far from their home.

Hands reach out for a piece of the pie until the pie is gone. Many want but few contribute. Hard work has become a sin and demanding more is the in thing. Some are getting older and can no longer contribute to the ***. People who give nothing and those who have achieved nothing want their fair share even if it takes food out of another person mouth. Slowly the blood is drained from the turnip and not much is left but a husk. The clamoring does not cease as still more pile onto the gravy train. Then the train runs off of the track and a big heap of defeat is left. Still they cry more, give me my share without so much as a let me help out.  This cycle goes until one day the true outcome is revealed, those who pushed others to cry for what was not theirs have the needy bound in chains of ******* and now it is to late and the imagined want is real as gimme gimme gimme turns into the sound of the whip and oppression.

Offer a helping hand, do not take from someone else. Make someone whole, do not leave them in broken pieces. Mend fences, don't burn bridges. Build a home, don't just offer shelter. Give ,do not lend in expectation of return from those who do not have anything. Teach those who have no understanding the knowledge that you possess. Share your prosperity instead of hoarding up goods and taking more. Be lead by your heart in kindness to help eliminate want. Give what you are able, for to God that is just enough.

When you can give a space of time to those whom you love the most. Let them know you hold them as special and keep their pleasant memories with you always. A moment doesn't seem like a great deal, but it can be more precious than a rare jewel.

Take all of the wealth that has been stolen and give everybody an equal share. Now ban anyone from taking what another person has. Let each person work and earn their own way, give each one an equal chance at success. When you have done all of this and all things are equal, then perhaps we will finally have peace.

Give mercy that I can help another. Show me kindness so I can show my brother. Grant me peace that I can share. Please oh Lord show me how you care.

When at last I am at rest, lay me quietly  in the ground. Hold no ceremony for me, let no one make a sound. Simply put in the dirt until the last few handfuls remain, then dig a simple hole and put a few rose bulbs in. Let the roots sink deep into the earth and find my remains. Let me become part of natures cycle of life again. Let my essence of blood and flesh mingle with the roots I suppose, of the bulbs that have been planted that will be come the bush of the white rose.

Let me wipe away your tears and give you my smile. I will take away your pain, if only for a while. Let me bear you on my shoulders, let me carry your load. Give me your burdens as we walk along. I will share with you my hope, you can share with me your suffering. We can make a meal and talk about many different things. I will open to you my heart if you will give me a little trust. We can start a bond of friendship right here. Allow me to take your hand and help you through tomorrow. Please confide in me and give me your sorrow.

Give me your wish and I will wrap it up with a bow. I will blow kisses on it and shake it 3 time for luck. I will place it under a tree and you can open it Christmas morning as a gift especially from me.

Speak boldly and do not back down. Go into the prisons and hospitals to the forgotten and those who despair. Bring compassion and mercy as you join others to advocate. Be the voice to the helpless and the hopeless. Walk for those who cannot. Claw at the door and pull down the strong holds of indifference. Bring strength and determination to the fight. Pick up those who are wounded and carry them with you. Lift up the causes with charity and Thanksgiving. Be the voice for all who cannot be heard.

Once I was headed home and there was a car that was broken down, it was very hot and one of the two women said she was thirsty. I took a moment to go buy her some water and return to her. I gave her the simple gift and went on my way. One cold afternoon I was buying a coffee and I saw that the person serving me was sad. I asked her if I could help, she said she had lost her wedding ring and could not find them anywhere. I prayed for her and gave her kind words. The next time we happened to meet, she was glowing with happiness, she showed me the ring that had been found and I was happy for her. I went on my way and have done such small things in other instances through out my life. In all of the small things, I now understand that there is no thing to small when giving for God.

When all seems lost and it appears humanity will fail, one person can be a beacon to stir up the soul. It isn't always the great leaders that move people to do great things, but the solitary giving of hope through mercy that is the inspiration that brings miracles to pass.

From the top of  a high mountain, looking over the land below. I embrace the wind as I prepare to take flight. On a glider of blue and white, I step into the nothingness and sail into the air. Down then up with the push of the wind. It is as if some unseen hand has lifted me above the earth. I rush onward into the clouds. I feel the moisture brush against my face as the gentle hand of a lover. I turn this way then that, rising towards the welcoming sun. I see an eagle in flight and get close so I can ask his advice on which way I should go. I watch his majestic wings lift him up, then he looks at me and with a haunting screech he dives away as if to say follow me. I turn my kite downwards chasing his wake. I sail over waters and valleys then we both hit a current of air and shoot back up towards the sun. With a wave of his wing he bids me good day. He then goes his way and I go mine. Into the changing blue sky that becomes steel grey,I am lifted high over the land. All things seem small and my problems seem petty, if only for a few moments I know what it is like to be free. As I finally see my friends waiting down below so small, I  know that is where I must go. So I turn my kite downwards and leave the sky that sets me free. For is you ask what I would prefer, then gliding is where I would rather be.

God has a golden chariot that glows with his divine light. It comes down to reclaim the forsaken and the abused. When little children are lost because of the wickedness done by others, he sends his chariot to carry their souls home. The wonder of the divine light cannot be seen with human eyes, but it has come more than once. It took away Elijah and was seen by Ezekiel, so it is spoken of and it must be true. Because God so loves little children, what else would he do.

The world is filled with chaos and there is apathy. Brotherly love seems to have been forgotten as we fight amongst ourselves. Though all seems to be lost, there is yet another way. It was set into motion before time began. The fall of heavenly beings made it a necessity. God knew man would fall so he came up with a plan. A way of salvation, through the sacrifice of the son of man. Gods one begotten would pay the price, for all of our sins, he would be sacrificed. So when you see the world in turmoil, just open God's word and understand. Despite all of the doubt and confusion, God has a plan.

There is no operator and you will never get a busy signal. All lines are always clear and the messages are always received. Sometimes you might be put on hold. In other cases, it may be long distance, but the charges will not be reversed, the creator has all of the time in the world. So be a little patient and God will get back with you. Some calls are more urgent than others and some must learn to wait. Regardless of what you might think, every call is important. So know that you were heard the first 100 times, the message got through and God is always on the line.

The churches stand empty and the streets have gone quiet. Only a few birds can be seen pecking in the grass. The wind blows through the trees and people cry in silent fear. Despite the way the world has become, know that God is still hear. He is waiting in your prayer closet, he is in the heart of every person who dares to care. He is in every selfless act of kindness. He smiles down on all who do his will. If you have ever doubted that he is present, take a moment of silence and just look around. You will find that he is here still

God loves his children, yes he loves them all. God loves his children, he loves the big ans small. He loves his children, each and everyday. God loves his children in many different ways. He loves them with the sunshine and he loves them with the rain. He loves them with the cool breezes. He loves them with quiet nights. He loves them with his mercy, when they do which is right. He is a loving father, that is an absolute fact. The problem that we often have,is that we refuse to love him back.

One Christmas eve I knelt silently in prayer. I gave thanks for the things that I had and let my needs be known. Then in silent contemplation I ask God what shall I give you for Christmas. In a long still silence the heavens waited then the sound of a small still voice spoke to me. Love your fellow man, I know it is hard but I know you can if you try. Give to others and seek nothing in return. Listen and seldom speak, learn what other people need. Go out of your way to be kind, even if it is the furthest thing on your mind. Do not take more than you need, even if it seems right to you. Care for the world I gave you and it will do great things for you. I was filled with confusion and sadness because of the conviction that I now had. I then asked God if there was anything else, and he said the most important gift is to first love yourself. He told me that once I knew what I was worth, then I would do the other things and we truly could have peace on earth. With that final word I got up off of my knees and went out to try to live up to the things God told me. To make Gods Christmas gift the best that I could be.

Once there was a building made with human hands, but it became defiled. Then it was seen that  new temple would need to be built, but who would construct it? Then one came more worthy than all, yet he gave up all to be humbly sacrificed. In a moment of unimaginable anguish, that which had been rejected became the foundation and corner stone of the new temple that God would build.

When the heart if broken and shattered into pieces, the nail scarred hands are there. When you feel your greatest joy, loving arms hold you close. When all that you believe is tested, God whispers be still. We only need pray to feel our Gods embrace.

A woman was stranded on the side of the road with a crying child in her car. A stranger came to give her help and she knew her prayers had been answered. A couple sat in a diner and realized they had no money, someone overheard their dilemma and asked the waitress for their ticket, then paid for their meal and left. A shut in was always alone at home, until a neighbor stopped by to visit, then made it a weekly thing. A young girl with a flat tire who's family had just moved away, was cold and alone on a February night, when a tall dark figure stepped out of a vehicle, the figure towering over her. In a state of fear she ask what do you want, the rough voice simply said, God sent me.

God sent you a letter, it has no return address. It simply has your name on it. He wants you to know that he is listening. He wants you to know that he is waiting. You don't need a stamp to respond, you need only call on his name. He waits patiently for his children to call back, but many never do. So if you missed his letter, there is still time. The invitation to talk to him is still open. Just find a quiet place and invite him to stop by. He will be glad to hear you call.

I have walked across dusty fields and have broken hard and rocky ground. I have toiled under the burning sun and have never seen a harvest. I open up paths and plant a few seed here and there, then I move on to the next patch of ground. My hands are fixed to the plow and I cannot turn back. I have taken on the task and I must follow it to the end. Though in the present I will not know what comes behind me, a time will come when I will see the work I have done. When my last furrow is cut and I lay the yoke of the plow down, I will wipe away the dust of life's journey. I will then see the workers laboring in the fields behind me, reaping from what I have sewn when God says its harvest time.

In the Bible the stories are told in the New Testament and the old. How God gave many gifts, but especially to women did he give. For tempting her husband God gave woman sorrow in a childbirth that holds our tomorrows. In her physical Frailty God gave woman cunning and skill. These gifts have come to serve her well. While  men are boisterous, a woman will quietly wait and thoughtfully contemplate with wisdom what she has to say. Though many men profess to be a breadwinner, it's the woman who Kneads the dough and prepares the dinner. When it comes to the man touting his male heir it's the woman that rocked the Cradle and raised the son with care. So the next time you read God's book, be sure you take a closer look. Perhaps then you will see it clear, God put a lot of gifts to women in there.

When someone needs to cross the street and a stranger lends a hand, Gods help is there. When ever someone is inspired to take a moral stand, Gods help is there. When someone prays for another to help them find their way, Gods help is there. When it seems that the end is near and the answer comes right on time, Gods help is there. Through the most unlikely people and in the most peculiar ways, if we look really close, we will find Gods help was there.

A broken heart and cross stained with tears. Worn out sandals covered in dust. A day when Gods heart burst. The ultimate gift of love, a perfect sacrifice sent from above. Christ was Gods valentine to all of us. When the messiah cried it is done, we revived greatest gift, his only begotten son.

When I am knocked down, the lord will pick me up. When the enemy builds a strong hold against me, I will wait in faith. When my best efforts seem futile, I will let the lord take over. When all seems to have failed, I will pray again. No matter what shall come to me, even if death shall bring me down. God will watch my footsteps and bring me to my crown. So in life and in death, I will do my best you see, for the lord is ever present and God will be a help unto me.

If I could return to my home, the place of my childhood. What would the happy stolen moments be worth? Could I recapture the innocence lost, would I ever change history's course? I am unsure what would be the outcome on a grander scheme of things. I just know that returning to a simpler time, would be a true treasure to me.

Jingle bells, Jingle bells, Jingle all the way. A hybrid will be in the driveway on Christmas day. No more dashing through the snow in a one horse open sleigh. Global warming has melted it all away. Deck the halls with bows of Holly, not when there is a protected bird that lives in the plant, the EPA is not that jolly. No coal in a stocking because they don't  mine it anymore. No Yuletide greetings or songs of mirth that tell of a ****** woman giving birth. That is thought of as offensive you know, she didn't have planned parenthood or other places to go. Forget about the Christmas lights unless they are LED and powered by wind or solar oh what a sight that would be. They won't look great at night but they will shine during the day, though you can't see them if the wind doesn't blow or clouds get in the way. An at last their is the Mistletoe and the Christmas tree, you must get the proper permits to harvest them you see. So fill out the proper forms and send them by January for the government to see and perhaps next year you will be approved but not this year you I'm afraid. So have a fun time going green for Christmas this year.

Stuck in black muck, idle for lack of trying. I am trapped in an inkwell and cannot get out. The pen punctures the surface of the icky goop, but I still cannot escape. Try as I might, I am stuck in the darkness. I see only brief glimmers of light each time a quill pierces the surface. Nothing is moving, I am stuck. I cannot just materialize on the page. The words that want to be written are trapped in the ink well and I can't get them out, and thus I am trapped with them going nowhere.

I was going to work out at 7 am, but I hit the snooze 10 times so I think that qualifies as something. I didn't get out of bed until noon, then ate left over pizza for brunch. I need to clean out the fridge, but I just won't open it for a while. My clothes are clean but in a unsorted pile, I would separate them, but the static cling makes my skin itch. I would like to be in a relationship, but then I would have to commit to something. At this point, I can barley commit to watch a t.v. series. I know I should be more concerned about a whole host of things, but right now I think I will just put on my fuzzy slippers and go out and buy some more beer.

Around a sharp curve on a urban highway there are red splotches and streaks. What to some appears to be random marks are a testimony to the lack of care some people take. At high speeds and under the influence of various things, unsuspecting souls have left their mark on the high stone wall that supports an overpass. One by one they have left graffiti on the wall that was stained with the blood of the unsuspecting souls who did not heed the warnings and took the curve way too fast.

An old Gray headed man told me about his life. He spoke of sorrow and joy. He told me of good times and bad. He spoke of having nothing and having more than enough. A journey that was condensed into a few hours, covered eighty some odd years of memory. In the words of wisdom spoken from a weather worn traveler, there were sign post. Honesty was always his hallmark, keeping of your word was important. Hard work never killed anyone, it made you appreciative of the things you earned. Patients wasn't given it was learned, only the passing of time can teach you that. You don't have to be old and Gray to gain wisdom, just remember the lessons learned the hard way and you will be smart enough. Though he is long since gone on to his final reward, the path that he spoke of is still there before me. I just have to chose to heed his advice and walk it the way he did.

I watch the sun rise this morning. I heard only birds and drops of dew. While in another land, others woke to a different sight. The birds did not sing or at least could not be heard over the falling bombs. There was no morning dew because of the drought and famine in the land. I drew water from my sink and made a *** of coffee, while in another land children struggled to get a drink of water from a ***** well. In a land so rich and safe often we forget to have gratitude for no matter who you believe God to be, but for the grace of God go I and you. Thank God with all gratitude.

Tear up the earth, and wound the ground. Expose the dark rich soil to the burning sun. Open your mind to the possibilities of what you have done. Cut furrows into the dirt and sew your seeds. Fertilize the earth and water the rows. Wait patiently and watch for something to grow. The seeds that died are now reborn into green chutes with leaves that reach for the sun. Beans, and corn rise up along with Tomatoes and other delightful treats. Sweating to pull out the weeds and keep the garden safe, you toil and labor for the yield of your harvest. At last when the work is done, the bounty is brought into your barns. Taking lessons learned from patients and labor, that is required when growing a garden.

Spawning a new concept is never an easy thing. You must first plant the seed in the fertile ground of imagination and then water it with a desire to succeed. Once the idea has blossomed into a physical realization, then you must fight through the weeds of dissent and often times prune back some of the wild chutes of the concept, before the idea can truly bear fruit.

Digging out the weeds and putting down dark soil. Bending over and kneeling to set the plant firm in the ground. Spreading fertilizer evenly around the roots. Adding water to cool the fire of the enrichment of the soil. Spraying the branches to keep pest away. Waiting to see the buds form. A labor of love intense and unrequited. All the effort just to see a beautiful blossom surrounded by a bunch of prickly thorns.

Set a watch on your emotions and lock the gate to your heart. Let no one pass the sentry of your feelings. Keep a close guard on yourself and forget the sorrow and pain you felt. Set up a wall and instill discipline into yourself. Purge your memory of what it is to love erase all semblance of compassion and forget where mercy lives. Move into another endeavor to occupy your time. Fill the void left by a the hopes and dreams that were dashed, with things that will not require you to feel. Stand watch on any chance at love and let no opportunity arise in which you might get hurt again.

Killing has become too easy and life has become too cheap. Many put the blame on an implement and not the person who wields it. Banning a thing never works as it causes it to be wanted more and enriches those who do not regard the law. The teaching of morality is our failure. The idea of civil discourse has been replaced with a selfish nature as the lesson of the day. Only when we accept that we are our own worst enemies and stop Blaming an object for our actions, will we begin to resolve our problems without violence and come to realize that guns aren't the problem.

Reaching into the gutters of life. Walking into the places others will not go. Pulling up people that others have left behind. This is a calling for all of those who would walk boldly. To withstand the fiery darts of the enemy. To become a light of hope. Having hands of mercy, by doing what others will not.

Chime, ring, jingle, clang, ding ,**** and so goes the symphony of bells ringing in my head. The echo of each glass of cheer as I toasted to so  many things last night. The symphony of hang over bells does ring. If I hear not but silence, for a full week of the new year, to me that will be a tiding of good cheer. So in a dark room I will lie quietly, if it is humanly possible to do and I will listen to the symphony of bells ringing in my head, chime, ring, jingle, clang, ding, **** oh my aching head.

The lock pops on the cell block, you can hear the keys as they hit the floor. I am losing hope sitting behind a steel door. The life that the streets brought me, for this wrap it never taught me. My life was hitting on the out side. I was getting money, now all I'm getting is time. Babies in their mama's arms crying, when I had my hustle I was trying to get ahead, now I'm sitting here on half past dead. My life is a neutrality, this can't be my new reality. My family was the only reason I was living the life of the hustle, poverty is what got me in trouble. I just wanted my piece of the American dream, not this nightmare I am living, iron bars are not the real prison. Trapped inside the silence, each day seem like my twilight. In the shadows I cry out and then it hits me that there is no doubt. Drugs were the name of the game, I was just trying to rise above the pain. Children with no hope and nothing to eat, so I picked up a gun and went to the streets. I am sorry that I made my loved ones cry so many tears, but the hustle cost me some years of my life, now my torment is missing my family because of the life. I hope my children and god will forgive me, it was the only way I knew to live you see. Now I am not sure if redemption can be mine, I am inside my own prison doing hard time.

Lesser orb of the night, guide of seasons and counter of days. Orange giver of shimmering light, mysterious body that comes then fades away. In season you mark the harvest, giving the time to bring the bounty in. Wheat, Corn and Pumpkins are brought in from the fields, as the chill of fall sets in. Hay rides and Bond fires become a normal scene. Lovers walk under your light as they think of comfort and warmth in each others arms. In your own way, you stand watching the mysteries of life and love, as summer ends and fall  begins, marked by the harvest moon.

I look at a sea of Orange across a Pumpkin Patch. I watch stacks of corn stalks shaking in the wind. In bare feet I walk upon the cool dark earth and I shiver slightly as it passes between my toes. I look out in the distance and watch children at play around an old scarecrow. I feel a rush from the north wind and I see falling leaves blown in all directions as they carpet the ground in a canvas of color. I immerse myself in all that I see with fond memories of riding on a tractor with my grandfather. I feel the golden Autumn sun as it touches my face and I once again take comfort in lost innocence with memories of harvest time.

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!

Once there was freedom then there was none. The ability to exchange ideas has been replaced with intolerance. Rhetoric is hyper charged and vitriol is all that is left. You can not even peacefully espouse your ideas because you might strike a nerve. Political correctness has changed peaceful dialogue into fearful words if some one does not agree with your ideas. So silence everyone but my point of view. Then violence is the response if you disagree with me. When did civil discourse become so convoluted, what is hate speech anyway?