-A Psalm Of Johnson


Jesus fought death on calvary and won,

Now salvation is free to everyone.

To no longer be Death and Satan's slave,

You must believe that Christ rose from the grave.

-A Psalm Of Johnson


Because He lives, I can stand strong and tall,

Because He lives, I fear not death at all!

You can search for God all you like;
He cannot be found.
He's forgotten who he is–
All entirely on purpose.

So thorough is his forgetfulness,
So deep the slumbering dream,
That he will never again wake–
Indeed he means not to.

And I would prefer nothing else more

Oh, my lord, I thank You.
You gave me a true faith
which have got only few
the price for it You paid.

Some may be sad; I have pleasure
where's god, there's no death.
Some may worry — I am sure
later He'll crown me with a wreath.

In harsh times of sin
he offered us a helping hand
and redeemed us through raisin'
Jesus Christ, our best friend.

And he will raise us too,
I can tell you for sure.
With Him there's nothing we can't do —
his love is impossible to measure.

Wow! What a meadow is this,
To think, I did not look up from below,
In the woodland Manor Pits,
I hung my head down low,
In this rocky culvert water-hole.
Never did I know!
So close to the Great Blue Hill,
The crickets jumping everywhich way,
Like driving into snow,
The purple iron **** not bending at all,
" Excuse you good sir,"
From these gentlemen so tall.
Who's down there in those yellow flowers,
Sniveling their nose at me?
The snooty shrew, in the partridge pea.
Is that a Bobolink? surfing the grassy red awning,
In the bright August dawning.
With no need of a tree.
Stick my face inside a world,
Of pink pye ****,
The Bumble and the Honey dont mind me.
Let them come and register all the grass and flowers to vote,
Where shall your address be when the wind shall blow?
Have the policeman chase the laughter–
And the laughter scatter low,
Through the hare bells below the Bobolink,
In the shooting cricket snow.
Come bring your clipboard,
Chase the breeze unknown,
Would you like more blazing star?
Speak into the bee laden microphone,
Form a line!Walk abreast!
Forward march!
To find the cottontail with fixed bayonets,
It escapes through pantaloons,
Like the red admiral butterfly from the net.
Give a sermon from the pulpit of shining golden rod,
For the mysterious and unquantifiable beauty of God,
Warn against the liquorice hyssop's sting,
A Bumble bee up your shorts,
From all night bivoucking.
I would not know which– to be raptured to or from–
This meadow to the west of the great Blue in the August sun,
Never did I even know that hill was even this nigh,
Until upon crouching at the culvert brook–
I held my head up high.

I never ask for anything
that I don’t need,
I never beg,
I never shout,
I never pout.

I’m like a bird
with no wings
or no rout.

Giving money,
giving clothes,
giving everything that’s around you
and the closest to you,
but far nowhere near
the thought of giving support.

The money,
the nickels,
the dimes,
all of what can’t replace time
is the opposite of believing
in a single soul.

My mindset and motivation
doesn’t always run on money,
it runs on belief
and that is what keeps my engine going
during the hard times
of the storms and the clouds.

When I’m finally ready,
I will be shinny
more than the sun
has ever shinned
in front of the crowds.

I never do ask for what I need
because God already gave me
all of what I needed
deep down in my soul,
my heart,
and all of what’s around me—

the roof over my head
and a beautiful women
to motivate me,
to keep my engine going,
and to fight for what will be
forever ours in the future
and for what all we have left
on this earth.

I learned to hold my breath
the way leaves hold out for seasons change; continuously
relentlessly
bracingly -
both in anticipation of the storm
and caught beneath its savage gaze.
The piercing ditty,
melodious cries that uncoil us
springs forth like flashes of lightning -
fear that catapults towards another painful promise of sleepless nights and hope deferred yet held fast still.

Still
Still
I need only be still.
And I exhale
Your name on my breath
as I realise I’ve been holding air in my lungs, tighter than anxiety and fear clasped my heart causing the beats to come like torrential rain,
like tears of release, relief, remorse that fall, surrendering to the One who sees me.

I feel the load lift from my shoulders
boulder by boulder
9.12, 9.57, 11.26, 13.50, 16.10, 18.12
every confidence, horrifying utterance
weighed so heavy on my heart
absorbed into yours
piece for peace
Yahweh Yireh.

Still.
Still.
I need only be still.

Who takes the time to talk out of a donkey
but ignores every train car of the entire holocaust?
Sure does love his "chosen" people, right?

Yep, Yahweh.
That's YOUR guy.
The "world's" chosen daddy.
The ultimate GOD wars winner?
Defeater of Baal, Moloch, Marduk, Tiamat, Horus, Ra, etc.

So, Immortality, sounds amazing to you?
You do realize, you can’t hit the off switch?
Or even... run away.

Forever isn’t a gift.
To anyone or anything.

Imagine eternity spent with
all the same fake disturbing "lovely" people
you try to avoid at the grocery store,
or water cooler,
except now you can’t escape.
Not even into death.

Every smug, painted up, repressed, crotchety church lady,
every judgmental, animal murdering, red hat *****,
every “actually, let me tell you why that’s a mortal sin” guy,
"pray away the gay," "god hates ****"
at an AIDS funeral (?)
those kind of real winners.

All now immortal.
All your neighbors.
FOREVER!

In return for your collection plate scraps you get:
"Worship me, or eternal torture."
(Bro, if you have to threaten people into loving you,
maybe you’re not that lovable?)

Sunday morning eternal worship sessions on bad punch steroids.
Eternal consciousness?
That’s not paradise.
You're choosing a hostage situation, with extra steps.

MY only prayer
is that prayers are useless.

Gold? (In heaven, really??)
Gold streets that lead to a padded cell
for the already dead soul
you been trying so hard to keep pure.

Where does the Bible mention humor, art, creativity, or entertainment as a value again?
Oh, right. It doesn’t.

There probably aren't enough window views either,
and now we all have to compare
"stars in our crowns" forever,
cause nothin says "equality and justice"
like an eternity of being made to feel inferior.
So, so righteous.
Cause there's no do overs.

My only want
is for death to be the final freedom.

To those that want to exist forever,
it's clear you don't really think.
But try to realize the HELL you're actually praying for.

If my reward for being "good"
is to be trapped with you
AND your lazy, ineffectual, cruel, hate-filled sky daddy,
then I choose, PASS!

PASS.
Hard pass, that is.

That’s no ones heaven,
that’s a cloudy PTA meeting
getting molested by an overzealous catholic choir master
during a timeshare scam.

Just some reality for every idiot
that thinks "Hey wanna be with me?, Cool.
If you don't or act 'bad'
I'll chain you in my basement
and have a guy I "created" peel and burn your skin off
while he pokes you with a pitch fork forever."

That's normal relationship stuff, right?

Here on Earth you wouldn't run from that guy?
But it's okay to hang with em forever ?
cause gramma told you to
And hey, it’s HEAVEN. !
Yay.
lol.  There  WAS a good  reason  we  separated  church  from  state.
"was"