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Hal Loyd Denton  Apr 2012
Thorns
Hal Loyd Denton Apr 2012
Even to think about such sharp devils stabs your mind somewhat they are plants defense system on the
“Great Saguaro cactus they have been shown to record changes in local rainfall and can be used to

Reconstruct climate and plant ecophsiology over the plant’s lifetime Acanthochronology thorns grow in
Timed sequence” and so doe’s human character beat back held in check this is refining at its tortuous

Best a couple of quotes if you want to be refreshed look up this great man’s quotes here are a couple
All the resources we need are in the mind. Americans learn only from catastrophe and not from experience.

– Theodore Roosevelt a fertile mind aerated by coarseness is the procurement for a fine point
Put to your life the most worthless arrogant person is one who has never struggled for the prize
That is a life lived well no matter what the circumstances they face to bow is not to suffer

Indignity but you present yourself as selfless and deserve the crown of nobility that person
Will have once worn clothes that were torn and tattered by thorns otherwise it is like uncultivated

Land its wildness pleases and feeds the eye it can roll out grand vistas spill and dip hills of
Splendor but nothing to appease physical hunger the warrior must willingly sacrifice his blood

Not a pin ***** but all that it takes to route evil and restore peace that the weak share with the
Strong the United States used these necessary building blocks where nations insert the rich and

Powerful they build with rot that will be their undoing the great story Two Years before the Mast  
tells of Richard Henry Dana JR while an undergraduate at Harvard College he had an attack of

Measles which created problems with his vision he took the action of enlisting as a common
****** feeling it could help his vision he shipped out on the brig pilgrim for a trip around the

Horn to California the initial thorn of measles started a chain of events yes the man already had
Potential but without the thorn he wouldn’t have ending up writing an American sea classic

And also from his experience with the plight of the sailors it instilled in him a deep sympathy for
The lower classes he became a prominent anti slavery activist not to many thorns that big and

He helped found the free soil party and he is credited with giving America one of its greatest
Historical record of early California he has a city named after him Dana Point and several  

Southern California schools are named for him he was on the fast track to becoming a lawyer
Then through encountering the thorns he found out life’s secret the way to unexpected

Achievement is along a path that at first only seems to hold dread but to persevere in hardship
Will lead to commanding heights not of pride and presumptuous arrogance but real humility

That is the fruited fields spoken of in America the beautiful you only rise through your
Willingness to accept abasement it is said God will resist the proud but give grace to the humble

So next time you’re faced with thorns see them as sentinels that bar the insincere but to the
faithful They show a sure path to rich fulfillment
Hal Loyd Denton  Apr 2013
Thorns
Hal Loyd Denton Apr 2013
Thorns


Even to think about such sharp devils stabs your mind somewhat they are plants defense system on the
“Great Saguaro cactus they have been shown to record changes in local rainfall and can be used to

Reconstruct climate and plant ecophsiology over the plant’s lifetime Acanthochronology thorns grow in
Timed sequence” and so doe’s human character beat back held in check this is refining at its tortuous

Best a couple of quotes if you want to be refreshed look up this great man’s quotes here are a couple
All the resources we need are in the mind. Americans learn only from catastrophe and not from experience.

– Theodore Roosevelt a fertile mind aerated by coarseness is the procurement for a fine point
Put to your life the most worthless arrogant person is one who has never struggled for the prize
That is a life lived well no matter what the circumstances they face to bow is not to suffer

Indignity but you present yourself as selfless and deserve the crown of nobility that person
Will have once worn clothes that were torn and tattered by thorns otherwise it is like uncultivated

Land its wildness pleases and feeds the eye it can roll out grand vistas spill and dip hills of
Splendor but nothing to appease physical hunger the warrior must willingly sacrifice his blood

Not a pin ***** but all that it takes to route evil and restore peace that the weak share with the
Strong the United States used these necessary building blocks where nations insert the rich and

Powerful they build with rot that will be their undoing the great story Two Years before the Mast  
tells of Richard Henry Dana JR while an undergraduate at Harvard College he had an attack of

Measles which created problems with his vision he took the action of enlisting as a common
****** feeling it could help his vision he shipped out on the brig pilgrim for a trip around the

Horn to California the initial thorn of measles started a chain of events yes the man already had
Potential but without the thorn he wouldn’t have ending up writing an American sea classic

And also from his experience with the plight of the sailors it instilled in him a deep sympathy for
The lower classes he became a prominent anti slavery activist not to many thorns that big and

He helped found the free soil party and he is credited with giving America one of its greatest
Historical record of early California he has a city named after him Dana Point and several  

Southern California schools are named for him he was on the fast track to becoming a lawyer
Then through encountering the thorns he found out life’s secret the way to unexpected

Achievement is along a path that at first only seems to hold dread but to persevere in hardship
Will lead to commanding heights not of pride and presumptuous arrogance but real humility

That is the fruited fields spoken of in America the beautiful you only rise through your
Willingness to accept abasement it is said God will resist the proud but give grace to the humble

So next time you’re faced with thorns see them as sentinels that bar the insincere but to the
faithful They show a sure path to rich fulfillment
WS Warner Feb 2012
Miscommunication
serendipity, anticipation,
blurred reality -
lost in the dialect
of a dream,
in pursuit
of Love
find callous irony;
subversion of desire
what's it all about?
to know and be known.

Mere seconds
of scrutiny
inferior,
I am shown.
Her appraisal
eviscerating
my warm flesh,
her tilted criteria
supplanting the interior,
voluble with
saccharine neologisms
and preferences
for the exterior.
(not mine)
Ironic was my
attraction to
her brain.

Lines, features
and symmetry,
image - the commodity,
aesthetics, the
currency
in this transaction,
cursory liaison,
incendiary,
collapse of the
insurgent ego -
there was no
us in the
the affair of
nothingness.

Bruised in
abasement,
I'm not the one -  
I thought I was.
Hyperbole -
the center
of delusion,
a curious
diversion -
avoid my life.

The allure of
the illusion,
transference,
the ordinary to
the romantic,
the perfect other.
Searching, the
absorbing project -
aquiring wholeness,
did she reject me?
I rejected me.

The escape into
fraudulent
sadness,
to mourn,
is to displace,
the disowned heart
by self is tragic.  
Should
I not mourn for
the one I'm
deferring?

Inside of me
It's safe,
to lament
the loss of
identity -
tension is agony
without resolve
sequestered,
in my pain,
self-imposed
familiar terrain,
upon retrieval,
awaking in
renewal,
mystery and destiny
providentially,
I am free.
zebra Jul 2016
I never ****
no
never go
against the will
of another

I am interested
in a certain
kind of dark angel

I have always dreamed
of dying
with my lover
inside of me
she coos
I am excited
by the danger
of dark alleys
hunt me sick boy
through dim city nights

her feet
sweeten the earth
with desire
corpuscular
with sparks
that ignite
the moon

who finds lifes
meaning on her knees
as if in prayer
for ****** intensity
no matter the cost
a sweet fat snail
wanting to be cooked
in butter

her deity
the solar phallus
she its supplicant
her **** dampened
in devotion
aching to be
mortally un wound
by an artist
of the despicable
her *** an
unguarded pearl
waring tiger pants

a true *******
she is my beloved
***** princess
lover of the venomous
revels in her abasement
a spilled bottle of perfume

inspired enigma
runs into a blades
like an embrace
searching for
plastic bags
poison
a razor
any thing that helps
that may take her
to a sapphire tunnel
of effulgent light

*** toys for
bad boys and girls
she says
inserting
hells kitchen utensils
jewels of ******
blood plush theater
now on a stained
linoleum floor
her perfect feet
wet
from onerous self hurting
a gory performance
exquisite poses
of impossible
tarnished yogas
as she stares into oblivion
**** soaking
desires rushing poem
of blood

she murmurs
with sweet kisses and *****
undo me slow
come on baby
thrilling her
like a steaming
Lilly pond bayou
of gators and snakes
that consume each other
for horror and sustenance
like the universe
she is a snake eating her self

tremulous with heat
at the thought
of her own demise
ready to caress
to **** in silky *****
and bleed puddles
until finally succumbing
to inescapable
dark water labyrinths
deaths embrace
tsunamis
flooding
*******

the blade sinking into my body
my **** a bond fire
for cruelty and adoration
a good flogging
to soften sir
decapitate
with a knife
something dull please

a headless woman
in flames
gently sways her hips
then crumbles
like a barren echo

your invited
to my carnation
of ruination
by hellish insertions

oh pain
pleasures food

she wiggles
like a modern dance
Aphrodite

sir please
a ligature and feral kisses
my throat begging
slowly squeeze
the life out of me
her mouth gapes
eyes bulge
with a
hideous blackened
stare
staring staring staring
blink-less

another calls
make my body
your ammo dump
filled with lead
small handgun.
several non fatal shots
lets do it in the bath tub
in the stomach
before the finishers
I do like my body to be used
before and after death
make it sacred
**** whats left
use my mouth hard
or turn me to ash
Olivia M Jackson Jul 2010
Streaming glitter
Suspended laughter
Delayed happiness
Evident abasement
Surmounting fears
Shadows dance in torment

Pleasant gestures
Pretence abundant
Deferred bliss
Creeping obscurity
Empathizing stares
Lured smiles led to drown

Malevolent touch
Masked intentions
Insubordinate emotions
Disappearing identity
Longing spirit
Laughter is beheaded

Joyful wickedness
Jeweled thorns
Loving stabs
Poisoned kisses
Unassuming mortal
Beauty lays dead
© 2010 Olivia M. Jackson
XVI

And yet, because thou overcomest so,
Because thou art more noble and like a king,
Thou canst prevail against my fears and fling
Thy purple round me, till my heart shall grow
Too close against thine heart henceforth to know
How it shook when alone. Why, conquering
May prove as lordly and complete a thing
In lifting upward, as in crushing low!
And as a vanquished soldier yields his sword
To one who lifts him from the ****** earth,
Even so, Beloved, I at last record,
Here ends my strife. If thou invite me forth,
I rise above abasement at the word.
Make thy love larger to enlarge my worth.
The fog crept in on giant monster claws,
Surely no itty-bitty feline foots, I pray:
“Feets don’t fail me now,”
A line that will live in infamy,
Way back in a vaudeville when,
A minstrel Chitlin Circuit then,
Was an actor known as the
"Laziest man in the world,"
A character designed to stick to a
Collective white consciousness,
Stick like Tar-Baby, that negative
Image of African-American men--
I speak of The Brothers--
Who for over a century, have been
Struggling to live down a pernicious,
Most persistently demeaning,
Hollywood trope.
Tribute is due to the black actor born:
Lincoln Theodore Monroe Andrew Perry.
Oh, Mr. Perry, & yes, you were the
First black actor to receive
Screen credit in a film.
Well, I guess that puts you right up there,
With Jackie Robinson & Sidney Poitier,
Carver or Tubman, or any of those
Countless northern abolitionists--
With no personal stake in slavery,
Or emancipation, but fervent nonetheless--
Color-barrier breakers &
Household saints a-coming &
A-marching in, in that number . . .
You paid a big price, Mr. Perry:
The indignity & débauche,
By abject surrender to the Boss Man,
Tribute, recognition is due for
Feats of humility & self-abasement,
Entailing total superhuman surrender,
Capitulation to the dismal, prevailing
State of American race relations at the time.
Stepin Fetchit: a name & a persona,
Not just painfully racist, but
Downright subversive.
Cosmogony of My Emotions: Teleological Theosophy of My Personal Theology
Death cannot defined. Being of ultimate consequence it is above causation, yet reigns supreme as an effect. It can only be affined: Aqua, Ignis, Terra, Ventus , Umbra, Lucem/ Hydro, Pyro, Gaia, Aero, Erebus, Aether, all swirl in dead languages spoke a thousand years ago yet they all have been read by our generation in our youth.
The veil of death is a tabernacle in which only the high priest returns from walking, all others are drug back rope around their solar plexus. All paths of death are two fold.
First, from the feet of the Teleologic Cosmos of Emotion we grow towards the Son, the Father, and the Holy Spirit. From the abyss we stare at the knees of the concave exterior of healing. Like the twins of June, hate and pain, are the two closest modes to death, but not the most direct. I feel fear is the ultimate neighbor of death. The flow of Consciousness lies first in the womb. Concealed from the light, darkness sheilds us from the illusion of Illumination. Hate feeds into pain as Pain feeds into hate, like a sibling rivalry. The knees (pain and hate) bend not to cushion the feet (death) but to stop the pelvis (fear) from shattering under the weight of the back bone (Stillness).
Adapted to the new ways of my mother's demon of lust wedding sloth and gluttony. Sin is the seat of unconscious control, or lack there of like a drunk blacked out asleep, already anticipating his next drink. Hate is Ache followed by ate. Pain and hunger are two sides of the same page. What can I say, everything happens for a reason. Even if I feel it was treason yet I'm no regal prince, nor a Mercury lying closest to the Solar, I drenched myself in my own masochism: physically mentally spiritually, and had done so for years. The basis of your emergency alert was quite founded, yet not without ignorance. Yet to me, you felt i was going to rise through fear to descend into pain and find my new year 25th, death. But the beauty is in my birth with one hair on my head I left the manger a man, no wig, feeling for the first time while the police speak to my mother searching like the warriors dispatched of Herod. My blood spirit is free, having saved Adam through the pyramid  I dethrone Satan by the sip of the crown of the feathered serpent. Yet you hate he who fell. I fear the vile nature of the burning fields respecting the ignitor of the flames as the sole cause of err that lead or Savior to accomplish who no one else could. For without the fall of the unholy, wingless, cut from tip to tip, Iesus-Yeshua-Judah would not be your most beloved. Without the pain of Christos (the annointed), Khristos (the enlightened) would not achieve ideology of the cosmos. Pain rises to fear shortly, and shifts into hate in confusion as siblings squabble, as I had done internally for a decade. Yet through the gift of the heart heavenly Saul is able to see the life lesson to use the lower part of our mind to find the Big Blue. Pain ascends into love if and only if death can bounce like glue. If you aim for the Sun and the Moon you can only be a child of astronomy, yet you showed me my dreams to buy you a ring of Saturn and hand it to you on a Sunday. I believed my pain laid plain and bare could convince you of you're convictions. My mission in the deepest recesses of body was for you to give into your fears so we could slip into the underworld of sin sipping red wine until the mounring in my heart rose Rex by the fading starlight. I dream to live a lye, basic as alkaline, I wished to be a battery. I saw myself freed of my woman battering heritage ceasing the cyclic self fear that posited the ferocity of my fore fathers, due to the love of a woman most beloved and true. I felt you could be the instrument to my Burning Lyre, my love Plutonic I felt my crow caw. As I held you in my arms singing with you in harmony, setting the bond between the viscous cycle of Pain, paying dues with Hate, to rise like smoke to face fear starring death in the face like a shadow below. The night sky black with how to Know, twinkling with the star light of Love. Only above the vault of heavens clung Joy, Hope, and Live.
Without poeticizing further, what I term the Basement of Abasment consists of Death at the roots (red inverted triangle) rising into Hate (orange w/ red center) and Pain (tan w/ red center), with the connection of Pain and Hate forming a cross with the direct bond between death and fear (yellow w/ small red center).
Proceeding up the towards the chain of being, leads to what I call the equator of emotions. Cling/stillness/resolve is the grey region connecting all body's of feelings as the Moses, the leader of the Exodus and the appellation of the celestial globe. It binds Love and Know laterally to one another, while connecting the Vault of Virtue to the Basement of Abasement.
George Krokos Aug 2019
WARNING:
This is a true story which might be distressing for some people
and hopefully may also be a kind of help or revelation for others.
-------------
It was like a cut or rift in the soul which seemed to be fuelled by anxiety and the sometimes innocent presence of others where the sufferer or victim would mostly come out second best or worse still, as with a sense of loss, going away with the feeling of anguish knowing that one had somehow absorbed sponge-like all the negative vibes and crap of those who were close by or there around regardless of who or what they were and then later on having to pay the price alone by taking it out on themselves with the almost near endless and uncontrollable self expunging torture of the bad habit.

A living daily hell of pain and self doubt, lacking that much needed acquired gift of self confidence and assurance that all would be well in the hope of the future where one could look back here on the current situation or malady like a bad dream and perhaps even laugh thinking how could that have been happening at all and the causes of it, if there were any, so that it could be reversed for one to make amends or at least be normal again and not have to go through this problem any more which in some ways very much resembled the taking on of someone else's curse where no matter what one did to get rid of the **** problem they were confronted with, it always kept coming back at them like some merciless relentless demon that wouldn't stop until it stopped.

Only then would there be peace or a semblance of it after coming to one's senses by sensing the extent of the damage caused by the feverish non-stop action of the bad habit which they didn't want or need to do; thinking or even saying to themselves with anger or utter frustration that this has to stop once and for all and then regretfully attempting to cover up or hide the all so obvious affected area that was the result of the distressful action which targeted that prominent part of the body indiscriminately and then having to get rid of all the evidence and now useless pieces which once covered and formed that well rounded part of their body wondering with stark curiosity if anyone else in the world had the same condition that didn't seem likely to go away. Or, even for that matter, if one could have a period of time, for it to heal long enough for them to make some recovery and be able to get on with their life, whatever that now meant or was; at least to live and prove to themselves that they were in control of it; and if all the so called powers that be would grant them some kind of reprieve from whatever the hell was causing the problem to continue without any clear purpose other than that of self abasement and an apparent denial of their own worth and potential which was their precious birthright which many people would call, say and affirm to be a God given existence and inheritance where no one had the right to take it away from anyone else regardless of whatever had happened in the dim past, being now more or less forgotten, not having any real or tangible reality other than that which one thought it may have in their mind and soul by a deep psychological wound like that of perhaps a post traumatic disorder where the original harm of whatever happened in the past still lingered in some way and had not been treated or healed.

Yet there were days, weeks and even months that would go by seemingly and  surprisingly relatively free of the problem but it would gradually once again find its way back to wreak more havoc and dismay on the already fragile life of the individual who had been suffering for most of their life with the unusual condition in a shroud of silence unseen except by those who were helpless to do anything about it only to ask questions of why and how was it going on, not really suspecting for one moment that they themselves were contributing to the ongoing pain and anguish of the person suffering with the above illness and were also somehow partly responsible for the cause both mentally and physically of the condition called or known in medical terms as “….............”, a form of ADHD, which was also known as the “Trickster” because whether one liked it or not and regardless of what one did to avoid doing the **** thing, it would sooner or later find its way back to plague those who were afflicted even though they knew that it was something they didn't want or need to have anything to do with at all.

Healing eventually came gradually after that person's immediate family had passed away when living by themselves for a few years but still in the same house where all the action had been taking place previously over most of the years, though it even occurred elsewhere as well irrespective of where they would go but seemed to abate for a while at least when away from the rest of the family and other people, and it also seemed upon reflection that it came as a blessing or some kind of reprieve from beyond the grave because for one thing there was no one else around to thwart one's effort or self determination to stop and live a normal life without the intermittent and unwanted action of the self debasing bad habit when the person afflicted then began taking some Chinese nutritional supplement that they had originally bought for the well being of a relative who had passed away a few years before, of which packaged contents were found partly unused and stored away in an area on the kitchen bench.

Another factor which contributed to the healing of the deep psychological wound was the use of, it seems, various powerful brain hacking software in the form of binaural sounds that some entrepreneurs, pioneers of a new science of awareness, had discovered, developed and made available under different guises with their own creative genius or interpretation, which had to be listened to by using a set of headphones with eyes closed as in meditation and under specific instructions that the user was not to do anything else while listening at some convenient time of the day or night, and to drink some water before and after the session, whenever they could find the necessary time to undergo the building of new neural pathways between the right and left hemispheres of the brain which was emphasised as being the beneficial action taking place by listening to these sounds that were played together and along with other relaxing music to avoid the monotony of the repetitive nature of the binaural beats or sounds in the form of mainly: alpha, beta, theta, delta, and gamma wavelengths that represented the normal and deeper levels or layers of consciousness that were scientifically proven to exist by years of research monitoring those who were in fact either Buddhist monks or some other neo, pro or non-denominational class of meditation practitioners that had participated in a scientific research program.
----------------
Sometimes healing comes by itself when a person learns how to be their own best friend and works with nature rather than against it away from exposure to unnecessary or overwhelming negative influences and undergoes that discipline which facilitates the much sought after healing response in a conducive environment.
________
Written early in 2018. Based on actual first hand experience. If anyone would like to find out more information on anything mentioned above or is seeking help for a similar personal problem or perhaps is trying to help someone else just let me know with a comment or send me a PM.
Chad Chumley  Jun 2014
Pure sin
Chad Chumley Jun 2014
Sin, something I shouldn’t get worked up about,
But I feel that I betray you when I sin.
You comfort my heart so that I feel okay to transgress.
I pray for forgiveness and
With some abasement felt I am still forgiven.
It’s not like I’m hurting other people.
Just turning to passion and desire.
I see no road into the heaven of purity.
It is fake to me now.
It is fake because the most pure woman I know divorced me.
She turned her back on me
And I’m supposed to want to be pure?
When will I meet a person who will treat me right
Whom I can call pure?
My friends are pure for lending me their ears
And spending time together thinking of each other.
The people that treat me the best aren’t perfect.
They are just learning everyday like me
Or are stuck in sin like me.
I have my demons.
Brent Kincaid May 2018
We learned that freedom of speech is
Is a privilege granted by some
For seeing the abasement of millions
And remaining politically mum.
The violations of human rights today
Are too numerous to record
And the rich perpetrators of the crimes
Grant each other the rewards.

We learned that rich people only care
About the money they make
And the rest of us can congregate
And please go jump in a lake.
If the forests are all sawed down and gone
They don’t give a stinking ****.
If they bees are all dead and we all die
They lie and say ecology is a sham.

We saw that fossil fuels are the biggest game
And they’ll **** to win and get rich
And anyone that gets in their billion dollar way
Will be a sad and sorry *******.
We know that our country is run into a ruin
By the greedy whims of a stinking few
And they care not all that much among them
For the outcome for me or you.
Seán Mac Falls Aug 2014
To face the world, a runt,
With such brunt and abasement,
Is to know ones place in the scheme,
Standing in the stream of frivolous
Happenings, this is the dance,
To be danced, this is the play,
Yet, he has the ears of a king,
To jest with such fire is to be
Ferocious, not feeble, his mocks
Are mostly mirrors for the blind,
For madness is a known methodology,
How he revels round the sad theatres
Of the high born absurd, how he speaks
In tongues and with bold proclamations
Only taut whispers of wind would know?
He is certain that the spindle fates are real
And that lightening strikes purposefully,
Kingdoms will fall, as the sun will rise,
As the noble trees ring with ideologies,
Without travails, he is always arriving,
To sleep out of doors, this is his way,
The path, the masted ship of fools.
The Fool, from Shakespeare's 'King Lear':

The Fool does not follow any ideology. He rejects all appearances, of law, justice, moral order. He sees brute force, cruelty and lust. He has no illusions and does not seek consolation in the existence of natural or supernatural order, which provides for the punishment of evil and the reward of good. Lear, insisting on his fictitious majesty, seems ridiculous to him. All the more ridiculous because he does not see how ridiculous he is. But the Fool does not desert his ridiculous, degraded king, and accompanies him on his way to madness. The Fool knows that the only true madness is to recognize this world as rational.

— The End —