Bless the Man crucified
Bless the slain Lamb
Bless He who bled
Bless God in flesh
Bless the Savior
Bless Jesus
He Lives

How I try to count my blessings,
They do little to ease my saudade,
Look to the past
For some consolation,
But the past remains resistant,
O woe, where is hope?
I feel so old, and so alone…

Twenty years to destroy an existence,
Is all it took,
To steal my contentment,
Look to the past for a glimmer of peace,
To the past for a little release.
O woe, where is hope?
I feel so old, and so alone…

On one level, I feel so blessed,
Cleave to life with all my strength,
There’s so much to be thankful about,
‘Til I sink back into deepest night,
O woe, where is hope?
I feel so old, and so alone…

Wake up with an ugly old bed head
Breakfast is coffee and stale bread
I'd like to complain
About taxes and rain
But I won't
'Cause at least I am not dead

Thank you fighting Irish,
for standing at my side
and I will do the same for you-
as I share in Irish pride,
it's time for every Irish heart,
to come out from where they hide,

We have come amazing distances,
from oppression at our throat,
and we wear some real
deep battle scars,
in an Irish fighting coat,
as we sailed in ships from an irish loam,
as we sailed
in freedom's boat,

All we came -
to this place
yeah we all came the same,
an our happiness-
it was the goal,
in our knowledge
that all hard work pays off
well so knows the diamond
from the coal,
and happy is the little fish,
finding comfort in a shoal,

An it's tattooed on our skin to see,
on an Irish skin so fair,
and in every Irish freckle seen,
it marks connection that we share,
an I don't have to guess at all,
how much my Irish Brothers care,
it's never too much to measure in,
the familiar things we bear,

The same for Irish sisters too,
and all of any other race,
as we are all connected true,
in all the light and colored face,
the color of your skin does not,
provide one with their grace,

We all can be some
Boondock Saints,
like my badass Irish kin,
we all share our connection deep
down below the earthly skin,
to think that what you do -I do
if you do wrong,
then I too "sin"
an we should not be fighting here,
if we join hands-
then we all win,

So I send an Irish blessing
to help you on your way
an I know that you don't need it
but I hear the bagpipes say,
that we have still much work to do,
before we all can hear it play
so as I get down on a bended knee
and again this morn' I pray,

And yeah some hands
were made for fightin'
all defendin' Irish wing
well I hope St. Christopher
he stay with you
until the final ring,
and bring a comfort
to your heart anew,
the kind that only real love bring,

I hope it finds you well
and happy -
an you be contented with your life
an I hope that all are grateful,
for every child, man and wife,
the best time to count your blessings
is when you're knocked down hard
with strife,

So I am sending you my Irish love
I sing laughter
- living mirth
to spread the seed so wide,
an defend from hell
on  Earth,
returned we are to innocence,
returned in death from birth,

I pray for all a peace to come
that one day all will know
just exactly what it's all been truly worth.

Ma Cherie © 2017

By Arcassin Burnham

Take the shot,
please don't blow it,
unless i lose it,
I'll never know it,
feeling like i'm ten feet below,
on the slippery ***** , to what hell has to offer,
i'm glad that you know,
the things that we cherish, we lose,
i know that this life isn't proper,
Take a shot,
i command you,
but i don't wanna,
swear i can't stand you,
lord please just take the wheel tonight,
no more promises to fight , if you promise me we would stay
up all night,
stranger than a twilight,
trash is another mans treasure,
find it on sight,

thinking how long have i been in this condition besting all my other personalities of when i'm drunk infesting way too many signs of intoxication in ways that i would think is not good for the human brain,
if not then i don't act the same,
With life struggles you can erase,
work hard to replace the things that have been impacting all of us,
but the last of us don't need to say a thing,
locked up and get life in jail or don't really better yourself at all,
like dominoes , one day it'll be your turn to fall,
please don't let the serpent win , but you just wanna hang out with the boys,
please don't let the serpent win , but you just wanna get high with the boys,
please don't let serpent win , but you just wanna commit a crime with the boys,
oh look! the serpent at the finish line and its on you,
my boy that was your choice,

Take the shot,
please don't blow it,
unless i lose it,
I'll never know it,
feeling like i'm ten feet below,
on the slippery ***** , to what hell has to offer,
i'm glad that you know,
the things that we cherish, we lose,
i know that this life isn't proper.

2 Corinthians 9:8 "And God is able to bless you abundantly, so that in all things at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work."

In the gleam
of the morning sunrise
i saw the blooming
of the seed of faith;
strength to live
another day,
peace to let go
of yesterday,
grace
for the journey ahead.

I am blessed
going in and going out;
wherever I go
I carry the beauty-mark of success
eternal happiness
because I believe
I am blessed
because you love me
I am alive
because you touched me

And eventhough
it may not be an easy road
i recognize
that you are here with me,
there to guide my eyes to see,
hold my hand and lead me
through treacherous trail of every trial
until I get to promised land
of milk and honey.

I am blessed

As I sit front row amongst an abundance of lushness I accompany a congregation filled with long-term friends. The holy ghost is in Canis latrans. Taxidea taxus isn't really diggin' it. Mephitis mephitis came into service smelling a bit reckless. Procyon lotor is all over Lynx rufus's shoulder. Castor canadensis just don't give a ****. Neotoma cinerea haven't said a peep and Glaucomys sabrinus is the flyest I've seen in weeks. The tunes that the Warblers are singing is sweet, with the Hawks hitting notes all the way to the peak and you know the Great Horned Owl cadence had to be deep. The gospel put all California Poppy, Star Tulip and Western Pennyroyal to sleep. Now everyone quiet down, all I hear is the river and the wind, patiently waiting for Giant Sequoia to speak. Drum roll please? Pileated Woodpecker knows the perfect beat. The deepest sermon goes unspoken. Nature is the religion and the earth is church. Praises to God for his Kingdom translating his words.