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Viktor Frankl's faith was trust that one's life holds meaning
trust in ultimate meaning...
My word trust holds true and rest crammed together for support
to stand under knowing the entire set of upgrades
and lock changes,
to mankind-basic knowledge of good and evil, since my last
a filtration algo-i'll-go rythmn and hyme adjusterho rholler
that powers ourkind past wayless places
when language joins the gamers playing for glory, at any cost,

Old Glory

per pose haps need happening,
sans happy-ness,
what ness could ever be?

What's the haps? Don't lie.
What's goin' on? Don't lie. Say,

Regular stuff. My side's winnin'. A *** in Pershing Square,
under the Jesus Saves sign, brought that to mind,

Fifty years ago, for him, looked like "no direction home"

Sansara sera, whatever sera selah

Nihili, to the max, right. But,
we know
other than this now,

thinking process of cognitive rythm building

coughing final, expulsion of some invading barb,
a fiery dart, setting cooling

actions sponding to ligands loosed when the
third aveili in a micron failed to expell

slowww whoooshhhhh
in-a-ginning be da vita, see...

say I think I know this feeling

qwhy-esse quiessence,
a settling,
after all that could be shaken, was.

acid to water, or water to acid?
who would gno?
Southern California autumn breezes
when a
clump of
lice afield
with the
prey was
abruptly fired
between her
**** that
this cantilever
bucked yet
would bone
the cast
upon her
harvest moon
only she
made right
turn bare
an autumn bear
Joanna Jul 30
Through the rain, the wind and blistering sand
workers toil without a plan.

Failing to see, much less care, that another's garden
is in disrepair.

Even so, there is a call to make a choice, to tear
down walls.

While preparing the ground, they pull the weeds,
casting bread upon life's water to meet another's

And then with a little rain, and a little sun, one can
take joy in the harvest when it is done..
To read more of my writings go to:
She was looking like a carrot,
With a green hat and orange dress.
She was spotted by a rabbit,
Who was hungry for a taste.

He now can see in the dark,
No longer needs to wear glasses.
He goes to tell his friends,
Restoring vision like he is Jesus.
Gods1son Jun 25
Isn't it illogical to expect apple fruits
After sowing orange seeds?
Isn't it easy to understand that
What you give is what you receive?

He wants a devout and loyal woman
Even though he sleeps around,
How does that sound?

He wants his kids to respect women
Even though in their very own eyes
He treats their mum like a punching bag

She wants a team of dedicated employees
Even though her attitude is of that
Who doesn't care even by a bit

Life has its way of mirroring
Or magnifying what you give
Which ultimately comes back  
to you as a harvest.
Some call it Karma, it is what it is!
Joanna May 27
The heart beats to give life, not death, and it is made to run this inner race, I confess.

To give forth its treasure to those who have a need and see the value of the harvested seed.

The heart beats to shed light on any who would not give up the fight.

To walk in a world of too much talk, and to live as a beacon versus too many lies.

The heart beats to keep it from turning to stone when left with unnecessary and suffocating ties.

For within, the heart, a story is told of an adventure not to be ignored that must unfold.
To read more of my writings go to:
Down in the earth I plant a small seed
Time passes by - it grows what I need
Matter expanding, building from earth
Proving the young seed’s worth

Oh, how perfect is the grand design
I can harvest all of what is mine
Follow the laws, and truly believe
Reach out and I’ll receive

Deep in my mind, a prosperous plan
My seeds of wealth, to grow what I can
I’ll plant the seeds of wealth with delight
God gives the warmth and light

Oh, how perfect is the grand design
I can harvest all of what is mine
Follow the laws, and truly believe
Reach out and I’ll receive
This is Prosperity Poem 24 at  and you can see it displayed on a beautiful background here
Legends be told, and written in tomes of a creature which roams the residence of the family: Lee-
Through shrubs and trees, though silent and unseen, it seeks seeds-
Ones of fire. Ones of sweet.
The creature seen only when: upon them, it feeds, simultaneously.
Its form of a boar with a tongue of alchemy, ignites in a spectrum of brilliancy. Hovering eyes remain but for a moment and weep vehement tears; crystallizing with the essence of harvest.
This poem is a story about a certain fiery candy called "Tear Drops;" lovingly produced by an online vendor: CaliforniaBlazingChilieFarm. Please Check them out and enjoy, fellow Pepperheads
Ylzm May 17
in seven of sevens,
in time, times and a half,
from the very first night,
the harvest is completed.

the fruition of the leaven of truth,
once a strange tongue,
coded in familiar languages;
unquenchably burns on altars.

a foreign bride awaits,
the reason a man leaves his family;
love shall be awakened and aroused,
for the time is right!

the light, fully revealed.
a child, a new creation:
King of kings for a thousand years,
then Armageddon!
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