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ConnectHook Jan 2019
1) groovy dancing hippie shepherd of love

2)  intrepid communist/anarchist revolutionary

3) wandering shaman/healer

4) african anointed of black liberation

5) messianic community-organizer

6) spokesmouth for free-market capitalism

7) stalwart working-class carpenter

8) cynic hellenistic philosopher

9) ascended master who studied with himalayan yogis

10) witty rabbi who sold out to rome

11) ****** rastaman babbling about ethiopia

12) refined orthodox prince on background of gold
For there shall arise false Christs, and false prophets, and shall shew great signs and wonders; insomuch that, if it were possible, they shall deceive the very elect.   (Matthew 24:24)

If you can think of any other false Christs, let me know.
Desire Jan 2019
I was a minor who grew up as part of the majority of minorities. Then I embraced a misfit lifestyle, believing Christ, the Messiah, holds all authority. I became a Marine and a married man receiving  more responsibility.  I'm becoming a medic, treating trauma and those who's lives need monitoring.  In the midst of it all, my entire life has been molded by this common theme: ministry.

Not the religious type, but the genuinely authentic, legitimate kind; full of humble and authentic servants and leaders through community;  Imperfect people pursuing positive change and holiness; its more than self-prosperity.  I call this community of people, Church, and these members I call my family.

My life ain't perfect, but its been a blessing to live life despite dark days, receiving unearned and undeserving forgiveness, mercy, and grace. My hope can't be "proven" real or fake, its why its called faith. So  may those who obey  through faith bring  peace, placing  hope on display. I am nothing without God.  My  love  for you comes from Love He sacrificially gave.  My heart, mind, and soul are transformed and influenced by His perfect ways. May the One whose might cannot be matched receive glory and praise, for His ways have given me, a newly-shaped life, that is, the least to say... Im ever thankful.  Amen [YAWEH]!

This is me. The  medic-in-the-making, former Marine, Messiah's misfit from the mass of minorities - ministry molding my life, even in the midst of where I'm moved to next. I  just want to obey, do, and be better for me, you, and future generations.  There's really no harm in this. You could disarm the hostile hits. There's good news (the gospel message) and my past, present, and future are moved by it! Be blessed!
[MAKE YOUR MOVES]

9 Jan 19
0103hrs
XLIV. New Year Reflection and Resolution [Testimony]
only idiots gaze
into the abyss
when facing
existential crisis

only idiots surrender
to the abyss
when you can just
walk around it

sadness stays
when you insist
that you cannot be
without it
and it will leave you
as you walk
never again will you be
behind it
'look at that madman'
says the ***** and her victim

'look at that madman'
says the intellectual in debt

'look at that madman'
says the activist with rigor

'look at that ******* madman'
i screamed with them
as i looked into the mirror
'you ******* madman;
persist and never wither!'
And you ask me,
Dear friend

Why I have painted
The world red

And I would have said:

Mind you I did not
Paint this world red

Someone just threw paint over my eyes once

And I haven't gotten it off yet
Hatred never stays one sided
And those who condemn others
For having it
Are the worst kind of hypocrite
Esther M Nov 2018
This is more then just a love letter
Because you did more then just love me
This is more then just a confession
You remember the first impression
I gave you?
When they said I find no guilt in this man
I made you guilty
Not worthy of your mercy
But now here I stand
With no nails in my hands
You were the dove dipped in black paint that became a black crow
For the price of my soul
You are the example of fixing something that was never broken because you fixed something you never broke in
So for that,
This is more then just a love letter
It's my soul returning back to the sender
It's my heart exchanging my blood for yours
This is more then just a confession
This is me saying you  my attention
This is me saying im breaking all connection from all distraction
This is me taking action.
After all I've been through
I hold your words to he true
This is me giving up me
For You.
Before I am anything I am a Christian. This is my letter saying how I've completely gave myself up and placed myself in God's hands because he loved me first and loves me more then I do myself. I hope you enjoy it and God Bless you.
CRobinson Oct 2018
A Shepherd and his 100 sheep walk among the hills of Judea.
It is a warm pleasant day
not too hot
not too cold
It is the perfect day for grazing.
Ninety-nine of the Shepherds sheep have stuck together
But one has left to do his own thing.
He jumps and runs away from the herd
Hiding from the Shepherd
The Shepherd leaves the runs after the sheep
searching high
and
searching low
but then
no more than twenty yards away he see it
He bolts towards him
screaming
cheering
crying
He was filled with such excitement that it echoes through the hills.
He looks his sheep in the eyes
so happy that he found him.
With his eyes swelling up with tears
He gently picks up his sheep
puts him over his shoulder an carries him back to the ninety-nine.
“Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Doesn’t he leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it? 5 And when he finds it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders 6 and goes home. Then he calls his friends and neighbors together and says, ‘Rejoice with me; I have found my lost sheep.
(Luke 15:4-6 NIV)
Ken Pepiton Oct 2018
I put my hand in the hand of the man from galilee

Or I thought I did, I imagined he would walk with me
and talk with me

and help me fill the darkness behind my eyes,
which i think may have been blind, at one time,

I have memories like that guy, Gold-something
color maybe, Goldfarv? Bloom. Right, my augmentatious savant
looked it up and I sorted what I recalled

Google The Global Brain, where he named a kind of
category of knowability. Memes, he called them.

And I thought, memes mean something more,
not Dawkins's, nor Bloom's, but
these, heteromemes bubbling out my belly button,
look real close.

Fractally featureless by the time a clock could have been imagined,

the point of the story was made, and there is no end in sight.

Pop. Another apocalypse bubble eclipsed by mortality. Whaddyaknow?

What remains when a bubble pops at a positron level,
after the charge is touched and
the tensionpowerloss collapses the bubble?

You should think you know atoms work, like
not a cloud of super positioning, elect-
tric-magi-tech, touch screen at the quantum accounting point,
not that, but
a bubble, powered, one way or another, with a single charge,
Go, that's it.
What an electron does. It goes,
as soon as any sense can be made of it,
oughtaouta hear
ping. No charge, no bubble, but next sure as...

Hell,
somethi' from nuthin must ahapt one time,
but ya'll take no heed, m'fallin angel droppin' in olfren, tricky hybridbast...

Noah was a tellin' Ham the truth found in wines that moved themselves
aright, slurry tongued, but pisstoff

The idea of somethin' goin' south in a family,
that started up again when
ever Noah started drinkin' old wine, sayin' sbetter'n...

Who told you I was naked?

-- aye, ye know, Noah was drunk,
No excuse, but you know.

Things were said, that maybe were forgotten, after a while,

But those father wounds a man imagines worst
are the one's his son's forgot.

The story being told is complicated. See,
the Bible is a lens,
not a map.

It got me much farther than this, should you ever
visit me.
No,
that's not in the stack,
that card's about as relevant as McLuhan's hair of the dog.

Somethin', ain't it?  All them three meter dishes shrunk down
to the size of a spoon, a teeny weeny spoon, a coke spoon,
like on Miami Vice, back when.

Satellite TV changed the desert, fer sher, but 4g, brohan,

that was the trick.
Future, on demand, where outhouses are still de rigueur.

Before you know it, country kids,
too poor for any but outlaw dreams,
can audit courses at MIT,
if somebody
shows him, it can be done, prove t' him
it works, faith can make things happen,
but
happening is sorta hard to nail down to one thing,
until the very last
Planc-sec.  Astrophysics is part of the metagame, fer sher.
But
there's some stuff that takes some patience,

everything that's old is only old, not rotten.

Olde time religion, at the oldfo'k dayroom,
where the clock runs the whole show.
It's another game show. Saint Bob Barker takes a bow,
and declares the worth of all your eyes behold,

If, if, if you are alucky winner and you arise when I call your name
to come on down
fall on your knees and declare the worth...

pure gamesmanships required here, golf whispers only,
worship, smuch more difficult to aim for than praise.
I agree.
Praise, appraisal, worthyness, worthship, prize,
how do you declare such a thing worthy,

A feeling? What's it worth? Depends. Safe? Priceless. Don't shout.

So we sell walls. We'll be rich and powerful wallbuilding,
citi-zen warriors fed and fattened by those we make
feel safe.

That's the idea. It's worked for years, at least
since
we
capitalized Campbell's bliss and Sagan's billions and billions of stars.

Workers will work for food and a feeling. And Facebook.
They choose, believe what's easiest, they are told,
you are absolutely co-rectallatime, tekayepeel.

There are such wishes being made, on all manner of stars
for happy ever afters. If wishes were asked for, whatif
connecting to the source of haps that are
all happiness can possibly
consist of...
Oh, consist is a sticky, gluten idea stuck in my daily bread.
It's related to resist, desist and the command to stand. Sistere.

This is that bomb, this is a dam buster Jesus H Christ Bomb!

Something's bound on earth to go wrong,
ever since Eve bit that apple, if she'da left that apple on the apple tree
Nah, that ain't how it went down and
songs about it don't change it none.

But, maybe this is me interrupted..
Whatif, nothing is immaterial, as an idea, it can't go wrong,
and Murphy's law, obeyed, is good, all the time.
Ask the pilot. What if,
asking for help helps? Was that a message? A touch by an angel?
Spirit, the idea?
Are you familiar with its role in reality?
Something makes these bubbles spin, y'know.

Ignoring is bliss, nay,
No more,
precisely, nevermore, quotheraven, shall the man who can read
be locked away from all the stories of all the things that
men, wombed and un,
have told and tested for ever, it seems,
when ya stop
striving for perfection and let patience have her way witcha,

whatcha learn can change the world.

Look back. Good news from a far country come our way.
In my younger days, I visited folks in county homes, the rest homes that once were called the po house, and sometimes I'd just sit and watch Jeopardy, and hold her hand, while listening to conversations with angels, all around me.
ChildofGodyay Oct 2018
It seems, your tears filled up your bowl.
It seems, that, your mouth, your teeth, they chewed till they were sweets.
It seems that, your....
I can't do it.
Couldn't sympathise so well.
I am confused, and I am so broken.
I am breaking. I feel so dead.
I feel like, I...I can't...do that...or this...or them...
I have so many things.
"I am holding on..too tightly to certain things..."
I am scared and frightend.
I am lost. Feel forgotten.
I can't seem to breathe.
I am so tired.
Of....me.
Of myself.
This body, this heart, my enemies. .
Oh, how I hope I can be separated from them.
I didn't get enough sleep last night again.
I didn't....
I cant.
My fingers they are sliding across the keyboard, just trying to catch up the wild thoughts of my mind, and I stop, broken.
I want to rest, but I would be lazy.
I want to stop and think, but that's just procrastinating.
I....
I can't.


Sorry, 12258
Sorry God.
Sorry Mother and Father.
Sorry sister.
Sorry. To myself.

"Congrats you failed. Yes you."
I said.
Pointing to the mirror.
Just my thoughts sometimes.
When I lose sight of God...but...just...so confused and lost.
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