Accept my way or die. They are to blame for your problems. God loves me and hates you. These are the messages that are delivered everyday. These are the things that our children hear and see, ignorance and intolerance, close mindedness and bigotry. Blaming ones neighbor for our poor decisions. Saying that what another has is ours by some imagined right. These are the messages that stir up strife. These are the words that people use to create divisiveness. These are the tools of the messengers of hate.

The fullness of the silver moonlight shines over her naked form. The stars in the deep dark sky twinkle in and out as she moves. She dances on her balcony and down the stairs into her garden. Like a shade or a Pixie she twirls about. Her breast and curves are outlined in the lesser light. Her flowing locks of hair whip around in the night breeze. Like a willow tree she bends and twist rising into the air and falling silently back to the earth. Beads of sweat begin to form on her body, the light catches them and she shines as if she were covered in diamonds. Her passion runs hot as she works her way back to where she started, then in stark contrast you can her natural beauty from her shapely legs to her breast to her supple lips as she bathes in the moonlight casting a Midnight Silhouette of ****** imagination for all to see.

Ganges giver of life's water, flowing through a mystical and vast land, heart of so many lives. How you have been afflicted by the changes in time. If only people would stop and listen to the peaceful song as your waters run deeply through the land. In silence they would hear your cries and see the peoples tears. Those who reverence you are at a loss for the things that you have suffered in the name of progress. If all were taken back and let to run its own course, you would bring hope and life once again. Until then your children will weep for you and pray for you to recover until you become beautiful and full of life once again.

I walk by a lake and look at the clouds. I see the leaves losing their hues of Green. I remember what it was like when you walked beside me. Now I am not sure how I feel. I hold an empty space inside that I am trying to fill. I look to recapture the old magic that we shared. I stop and stand by an old stump as I watch the lake lap at the shore line. I close my eyes as the breeze touches my cheek and I imagine that it is your hand, as I fall back into old memories and try to fill a void that was left in me when you went away.

Chatter, chirp and screech, thus goes the pundit on t.v. . Reminiscent of the mocking bird, sounding like other things but itself. Chatter, chirp and screech, that is all today's news commentary is to me.

I stepped out of bed and fell into the shower, I was in there only a few moments, but it felt more like an hour. I put on the coffee and microwaved my breakfast, the coffee was not hot enough and the French toast was burnt. I swallowed both down and shuffled out the door, I felt a sudden draft and realized I forgot my pants. I rushed back and danced back out the door. If I am lucky I will be at work before the boss hits the door. I get caught by every traffic light and even though I am on time, my boss gives me a ***** look as if I am way behind. I clock in and start the drudgery that I call a job. I labor under what feels like interrogation lights. It's only 1030 when I check the clock, I know that can't be right. I push through the paperwork and try to settle my mind, oh how I wish it was quitting time. Lunch time finally rolls around and I am still confused, I should have called in sick today, I have the Monday blues.

I was always told that there were monsters in the darkness. Then I found a mirror and realized I was one of them.

Lush carpet of color in hues of Purple, Pink and White running along the edges of a field ready to harvest. Oh how you glisten in the days first light, covered in new morning dew. Your petals are soft as silk and your scent is gentle like a summer breeze. You are truly a flower of wonder and the mornings glory.

A cool white veil hangs over a green garden. Frogs croak as night gives way to morning. In the cool of the early morning, the mist gives life a magical quality. Of you look closely, it is as if you can see i,to the past. If for a moment, there is a tear in the fabric of reality and the misty curtain is the doorway to another world.

Standing in the starlight looking into your eyes as they reflect the moon. Watching the horizon as the night fades. Dancing barefoot on the cool earth with you in my arms, I do not want the night to end. As the sun begins to break the veil of night, Shadows begin to fade into morning and your silhouette becomes mysterious and beautiful. I pull you close and look at your face as light and dark cast shades over you. The sun and the moon are in equilibrium and you and I are balanced and in love. I savor the moment as the shades of night fade and the mornings new light separates shadows from day.

In the dark of the night I lie in anticipation. In hope of tomorrow I silently hang on. Many have been the disappointments and sorrows that I have met, but I still wait for another day. As I know spring must follow winter, so light must follow the darkness. As the last shreds of darkness are torn away, the new dawn is just over the horizon and soon I know morning will come.

Life is a fine thread that we pull taught then loosen. It strains and releases given to our circumstance. If we pull too tight, it will snap, if we let it go too loose, then it will tangle and we will get caught in one place. The twine must spin and flow not going to much to one way or the other. A balance must be maintained, for we are never sure of our own mortality or when it might come to an end.

Hands wrinkled by age and years of caring labor. Some days often forgetful. A heart full of caring and love. Always worrying about others, but giving little concern for herself. Age has greyed her hair and time has left it's mark on her smile, but deep impressions are scarcely noticed when her warm greeting meets the sick sniffles of a runny nose. No treasure could be greater, no wisdom can be sweeter. These are things that make a mother so dear. A person who cannot be replaced no matter how hard you may try. She is a gift from God indeed.

Twang goes the Banjo down the hollow. The whine of the Harmonica can be heard across the ridges and through the tall lonesome Pines. A Bow Fiddle sings next to a rushing river that comes cold out of the rocks of a mountainside. From the Ozarks through the Catskills back into the Great Smokey Mountains, the sound of a simple but difficult life can be heard in the tears and joy of mountain music.

High peaks covered in lone pine trees. Clefts of rock as old as time itself. Water running from deep with in cracks formed by dripping rain and wind. Deep rivers that run through valleys filled with wild flowers. Dark clouds form among the peaks and thunder echoes off of the mountain sides. Mountain rain falls cold and chilling cleaning up the earth and making me feel alive again.

The sunrises and the sun sets. The seasons come and go. Rivers flow from mountains into the sea . Things change everyday. A person's skin wrinkles and their hair turns Grey. The world turns and people pass while others come into their own . I have seen joy and I have seen sorrow . The journey is an adventure and what comes next is not always known. So when I have to go away, don't cry for me. I am not really leaving, I'm just moving on.

Feel the rush of fear, hear the plea for help. See the blood spurt as you twist the knife!. Listen to the gasp for breath as the body goes lifeless. Look through the sight and see the face of your prey, just before the trigger is pulled. Watch in anticipation of the POP as the gun goes off! The prey is unaware of their fate. Going about their life then POP, the gun goes off and a splatter of Crimson ejects from the exit wound, as you see the shock of their face. Down they go, the image of the **** burned in your mind. Listen to the begging and watch the victim squirm, tightht are the ropes and black is the hood over their face. Struggling and pleading, crying for mercy where none exist in the cold heart of a predator. To a private place you go, where you can take your time and savor the taste of their fear. Each delicate morsel to be extracted as if though it was some rare treat. The victim holds out hope until the bitter end, enduring torment after torment, hoping for death but fearing the end. Not knowing when the blade or bullet will come, ending their suffering and putting the finishing touch on a masterpiece. Thus is ******, an act, a way of living, the essence of a killer.

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.

My voice began to change at 13 years old. Hair begin to growing in places it wasn't before. My feet became too big my nose became too small, I'm now all thumbs and I keep walking into walls. I'm convinced that this is a conspiracy contrived to put an end to me. A now gain weight just looking at cake, my ankles are swollen and I get moody all the time. I've come to the conclusion that this must be a crime. I'm just not sure how you can arrest yourself, perhaps if I think about it more and answer will come to me. Until then I have concluded that my body just hates me.

What I want for Christmas cannot be put under a tree. The thing I most desire is something that cannot be wrapped with a bow. What I truly want is something more precious than silver or gold. The gift for which I ask, is to be allowed to see, the smiles on the faces of those that I can help you see. No treasure could be greater than to give another hope. Nothing is more precious, that making children smile. To bring joy to others makes it all worth while. So if heaven will pay attention, and by mercy hear my plea, then to let me be of help to another is what I wish my Christmas gift could be.

No matter where I was born, I knew I would not stay there. I had to makes choices on where I wanted to go. Traveling on a hard road was the only way I knew, but poverty and discouragement did not stop me. With ****** finger nails and callused hands, I climbed out of the place that fate put me. I might not have been born to privilege, but my circumstances don't define me.

I sit down to eat a meal and I give thanks for what I have. That which I eat with family is simple, but for it I am glad. While others may not think that I have much, I have more than enough. I have all the things I need which is a family and their love. I see so many who languish and are in pain. I see so much need that in tears I sometimes have to turn away. I know that what I can do will never be enough. So as I sit to eat my daily bread, I thank heaven above. I have been able to do some little thing and I hope that will do. For in one instance tragedy could strike me too. So before you gripe and complain each morning when you get out of bed. Fall to your knees and thank God that he gives you your daily bread.

Yesterday was great but today the world has changed. No longer am I cheery, but I want to be friends with a kitchen knife. I hold it and see how shiny it is and wonder how it's cool edge would feel. Then I fall even further and look at my medicine cabinet. I pour out the pills onto the floor and look at all of the pretty colors. If I just scoop up a hand full and wash them down with beer, I can pretend that I am swallowing a rainbow. It is then that I look in the mirror and decide I can stand my hair. I get the scissors and cut and whack it until it is shorter than I might like, but now I fit the darkness that has taken hold of my mind. So I go and sulk on the couch and wash down my sorrow with *****. What I am drinking I am not sure, as long as it numbs the pain. I will pass out when the bottle is empty and perhaps I will have a better mood tomorrow.

Shades of Phantoms haunt my days. I see strange things. I look in the mirror and I am not myself. I see a crown and armor yet I feel less than mortal. The world shifts around me as I walk, everything is skewed. The faces of the people that pass me are contorted, I see them for what they really are. There are no pleasantries among them, each one holds a monster inside. I see their Dark Inner secrets that they cover with a facade. Is the world an illusion or am I simply living out my delusions? Who can really say what is real anymore?

When my lifeless body is found, ashen white and cold. Do not let any grieve, but let my story be told. I fought the battle, but I could not win, Victory was taken from me as I gave in. Life was bitter sweet, some days were easy and some were hard. I lived as best I could but in the end I did succumb. I gave in to the longing for peace, I surrendered my armor and felt deaths sweet release. Let history not people judge me. Some will say I was cowardly but others will understand. At least who now stand where I did a very short time ago, on the edge of the abyss looking into the eternity. So now let my Epitaph be written, that I have nothing else to fight. Let the night take me and let me learn my fate. What ever may come, surely it is better than the hell that was called my life.

Being able to bend iron is impressive, but it is not my greatest strength. The ability to be humble is what really strengthens me. To be a servant to those who are in need. To wash the feet of a beggar that is strength indeed. So when someone say I can lift half a ton, would they stand firm in the face of poverty and want, or would they turn and run?

I walk through the house and I hear voices and laughter. I turn down the covers and your pillow is wrinkled. I look in the mirror and I see a glimpse of you. I cry into my hands and wonder how I could have been such a fool. I hear footsteps coming up behind me. I catch your scent on a gentle breeze. I spend long nights missing your embrace, I wonder why I didn't see. Now my bedroom is haunted with your memory. Your ghost haunts me and reminds me of my mistakes. The memory will forever haunt, it is perhaps more than I can take.

Spring brings thoughts of love and June remembrance of marriage. I long for winter when the frost is cold and the snow comes deep. It is then that my heart is frozen and feels no pain for its loss. When love is gone from my memory and frozen trees give me comfort. When my emotions are as cold as a winter mountain stream, then is my soul at rest for there is no feeling in my heart of the pain of lost love.

I live in a house filled with window panes. They must be replaced often. Why would I live in a house made of glass some might ask. It is so that I will know when I have thrown a stone or know when one is thrown at me.

Let me out I want to play, no I have to work today. Eighty hours this week alone, I am not sure when I will be back home. I fight with myself in this grown up rat race. All my inner self wants to do is play. At the end of a decade I see the wear and worry. Lines in my forehead and lines in my face. It is time for us to switch place. So I let the inner child come out and play. We get to work on time and leave early once in a while. I see the world in a different light that I used to do. I wonder why it took so long for me to let you back in control. If we let our inner selves out more often, perhaps it would be a better place to live and play.

I keep it locked deep inside of me. I seldom let it speak. When it does it confuses me. It screams at me and rages for no reason at all. I keep it locked away deep inside of me. I smile politely to most people when the voice inside me wants to scream obscenities at them. I do not know why it does, I just no I can't let it out. It warns me when I am being stupid, but I seldom listen. It tries to get me to do things I do not want to do, but it says are fun. I keep up appearances, but I grow tired of putting on a show. I keep it locked up deep inside of me, but my inner voice is clawing its way out.

The alarm clock screams in my ears! The coffee *** hasn't worked in what seems like years. Is it my day or my spouse's day to take care of the kids. I need 5 more minutes please I wish I could have 10. I'm up and step into a cold shower because all the hot water has been used. I wipe to sleep out of my eyes and stumble down the hall through an obstacle course of toys that leaves me battered and bruised. I turn on the TV and there appears to never be any good news. My taxes are going up and the layoffs continue and then the weather concludes. More grey skies and rain oh, that's my everyday life. So I try to get some food down as my kids scream and holler in the background. I pull it all together and everyone heads out the door and then it hits me that the dog is still in the kitchen, I hope he hasn't done anything to my floor. So I get my house situated and drop the kids off at school on the Curve. Then someone honk a horn at me and gets on my last frazzled nerve!

I woke up one morning and found my nose was cold. I tried to but it, but my claws got in the way. I stood up and my tongue hung down and to one side. I Shook myself and wanted to scratch in odd places. I looked behind me and saw that I had a tail. I suddenly got the urge to chase it down. I went to the bathroom and hopped on the counter, I looked in the mirror and was horrified and confused. I saw that I was a dog and no longer a human, perhaps that is why the blue toilet water now looks so inviting.

I can smile and tell people good morning. I can offer a helping hand. I can give my blood to save another. I can spare a few dollars to help out a cause. I can talk of hope and sacrifice and then live a life that reflects them. I can show kindness and give to others that which has been given to me. I am able to do what many cannot. I am willing to be there when others will not . I understand that my life is a gift and I should be sharing that gift when I can with others.

My life is a play, a sonnet worthy of the greatest writer. In every scene there is a story. My birth is joy, my raising redemption, laughter and tragedy. My loves and losses can make even the most reserved person cry and feel joy. My story is filled with anger and hope. It is filled with philosophical moments and moments of revelation. In all things my life is like a play. So are the lives of people who live each and every day. If ever person were to be examined, they would find all things similar. There are moments of crisis of faith, moments of love and joy, moments of anger and hate. So look at your life and see what I see. Each aspect of an act and a scene. This is why my life is like a play.

As a trickle of water from the heights of a mountain or the depths of the earth, so began my life. It started from a singular lonely place and moved forward slowly. Drip by drip until it formed a small stream. Then the path narrowed and it became faster until it began to rush forward. Into a widening river until it again slowed on it's journey to the sea. Into the sea my life goes, where all that I am is lost and forgotten among the masses of people and the passing of time. Like the water of the river that flows into the sea, I to shall be drawn up and start again my journey. Into a different path and a new life.

My hands tremble as I take yours gently. We turn and face each other. My heart races like the wind off of a mountain peak. I can barley stand beside you. With warmth and sincerity I look into your eyes and I see the window into my own soul. I try to find words to express how I feel incomplete without you. I can only stare at your beauty and know that you and I are meant to be. I pledge in a silent moment in which I have become whole. That I give my life to make you happy and to always let you know how you have completed me.

We are both unique like two snowflakes yet we merge and come together like the winter. The cold is joined to the season as we are joined to each other. When we are together our passion sparkles like the glistening of new formed ice drops on barren trees. We dance as snow swirls that are blown up by the wind. We are content as a wild Hare safe in it's lair. Our love is miraculous like a clear winter sky where all of the stars can be seen. What a wonder I have found in you, my perfect match, the keeper of my soul, the love I know in winter.

I stopped on the side of the road today and helped a young woman change her tire. Yesterday I gave a lost couple directions so that they could find their destination. Through out my life I have stopped to lend a hand, I have offered directions or just listened to the troubles of a friend. Through all of the things I have done, the person I helped will never realize that I gave them my most precious gift, which is a moment of my time. For time only moves forward, it does not move back. Once it is gone you cannot buy anymore. Unlike money which you can earn or things which you can use money to buy, my time is the most precious thing I have to give and it is what I give freely to make simple changes in ordinary everyday lives.

With my quill I transcribe thoughts into words. I ply a trade on paper and into print. I shape and mold ideas into daggers that pierce through corruption and injustice. I sharpen my implement to do battle against the ideas of ignorance and censorship. I cut to the core of the bone and separate the marrow from it. I slice out the forked tongue that tells lies and spits venom. Only with the written word can I stand my ground. When I am silenced, I find another way to pull my words together. In freedoms name, I may even lose my life. Yet my pen will cut sharper than any blade, because the truth and the idea of freedom cannot die.

Adorned in jewels and silk, walking to stand by my side. Silent but strong in your beauty, I take you by the hand. I endow you with all of my riches and give you all of my strength. I pledge to you my undying love, she who will be the mother of my children, she who will be my refuge. In silent strength she will support me, in gentle wisdom she will advise me. In all things she will love me. The one who will make me her own and give me hope and a home. My beloved, my queen.

From bruised knees to a broken heart I am covered in the scars that life has left upon me. Some are visible and some are not, but all show who I am. The scars show that I have been foolish and they show that I have courage. They show that I can love and know loss. The scars mark the healed wounds of a life's journey that I am still undertaking. Before the end comes I will face more difficulties and hardships, but with each new experience and each new scar, I grow as a person to become what I am destine to be. So when you see the scars upon my body, do not feel sad for me, for it is my scars that define me.

In a book that keeps the record of all the deeds i have done, there is a mark beside my name placed there by Gods only son. Where there once the word condemned, now there in only crimson where once there was sin. For you see Christ paid the price, of this there is no doubt. On the day that he was crucified, in the book my sins were crossed out.

Cut open with the knife of emotion, all that I am is exposed. You have wounded me deeply and I am not sure that time can mend the damage. I am not sure what I can do anymore, my inner most self has been put on display for all to see. I am no longer protected by my armor, I am empty and barren. Take a look at what you have done. See the grievous damage you have inflicted. For now, I will just hide in the shadows and hope that in time things will change.

Oh Starry night grant me repose, for my soul is burdened down. What trouble lies in wait for me in the darkness, only the pail light of the jewels of heaven looking down to bear witness of my weariness. Oh sleep come to me, for I am sorely lost. I see only darkness and little of the pail light. Please oh shroud of forgetfulness find me and bring my soul to remembrance of a gentler time. Oh Starry night that bears witness to my suffering, call now the night shades to spirit me away from my trouble and end the suffering of my soul.

A shadow of beauty, walking by without a word. A golden haired beauty who disappears into the night then reappears into my dreams. With curves like a winding road and a subtle smile that tempts the spirit and troubles the mind. Mysterious woman, why did you steal my heart with a glance.

I see dragons and flying horses. I ride upon unicorns and watch fairies fly about. Waterfalls are enchanted with water nymphs that tease and play tricks on unsuspecting passers by. The trees can speak in their own peculiar way and the sky changes color with the mood of the day. When all things are in harmony, it is a light blue or a bright hue of pink. When there is distress it turns silver grey or a pail yellow. The sun shines down brightly but not too hot, only warm enough to wake the gnomes and wood sprites. In a land that is as real as my imagination, the world is a much more interesting place when mystic creatures abound.

Though I walk and appear to be defenseless, I carry a breast plate and a shield. The things that protect me cannot be seen with mortal eyes, yet they are ever present. The righteousness of the lord and the shield of faith are upon me and through his spirit I am not afraid. The double edged sword of his word, will cut through the enemies lies and the truth will be made known. Though I walk before mighty armies, I am protected by the unseen armor that God has given me.

A hope in the unseen, a belief in the divine. Holding on to something that human understanding cannot define. Believing in the absolute power of a divine creator, this is my sword and my shield. Faith is the weapon that I choose to wield.

Hills filled with tall white pines, aged and knotted reaching to the open sky. Rivers running from dark high mountains capped with snowy peaks where the feet of man seldom walk. Lakes filled with fish and crystal water untouched by progress. A quiet people living in harmony with nature, taking only what is needed and no more. The noble eagle soaring into a valley to chase the clever hare then dashing back up towards the sun on hidden winds. A scene captured from history of a peoples native land that has long since gone away.