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If I ever cared at all about anything, the sweet love of our King and Creator is my cause to sing! Rather than regurgitate the same old thing, and moving my mouth in meaningless shapes. I’d rather sing to YHWH the praises He so deserves, if such a song could I even sing, to Him no justice I’m sure I could bring. Though He loves me anyway, and while I was still dead in sin! I mean, on that old rugged cross He did what no other ever could. He who knew no sin, fully God, fully man, stepped down from His throne and wore a body of flesh, and bore the sin of the world, this God/man did only good. As only He could. Yet He already foresaw His painful death, so that’s why with His very last breath, He said “It is finished!” Jesus Christ paid the ultimate price. In the courtroom of life He, Jesus Christ, paid our deathly fines so we may be reconciled to The Father through the blood of Jesus. Legal and just is His love for us. All one needs to do, is accept his gift, repent sincerely, and ask Him to reside in your heart, trusting him like the solid Rock He is. Hallelujah Yahweh!!
Only half done. Needs more work.
Ken Pepiton Aug 2023
Jeffers on salvation- the eventuality, winning by grace.
Meditation On Saviors
"
Love, the mad wine of good and evil, the saint's and murderer's,
the mote in the eye that makes its object
Shine the sun black; the trap in which it is better to catch the
inhuman God than the hunter's own image.
"
Little dare I care if I hold, comprehending,
holding center most attention, intending

to behold a beauty we all share below our cares,
cast away, worry of worthlessness being made known,
when I die, and you are not made aware I was ever there.

To all the unread poets,
a muse I used has gone to offer solace devoted
to silence.
I find Jeffers, again, I walk the hills west of Mendicino County,
imagining Glass Beaches in the future, as all our excess erodes.
Johnson Oyeniran Apr 2021
To enter through the gates of heaven where all your worries cease,

You must believe in the resurrection of the Prince of Peace.
Kata Jun 2023
I am trapped in my skin
Wrapped up and dripping in black ink
It colours me transparent, there is no escape.
Where i go, it goes.
words are my salvation.
They hold everything in, poetry spilling from the seams.
I walk around with midnight holding close to me.
I am my shadows shadow, hard to tell the difference
Melissa Wessel May 2023
I stand at the shore of an ocean
vast, uncrossable waters
between me and my salvation
I could swim, but for how long?

how long before my limbs give out
my lungs searing in my chest
metal in my throat
salt in my mouth

so I stay on the shore
(metal in my throat
salt in my mouth)
feet on the ground
My Dear Poet May 2023
Maybe, all we need to do
is put our pens down
The poets painted

Maybe, all we need to do
is place our drums away
The drummers danced

Maybe, all we need to do
is lay our shoes aside
The dancers wrote

Maybe, all we need to do
is return our books back
The writers sang

Maybe, all we need to do
is keep doing what we do
The king cried
The living shall worship 🛐 thy Lord as the Angels adore Him on the throne. Off their faces with their golden crowns 👑+ bowing down. Their songs is hallelujah, 🙌 glory, giving holiness, admiring the everlasting living being. Who made heaven is holy place of abode. Make audible roaring, let the pillars of heaven tremble, and the waters surrounding the universe from the peak of heaven shallow down the depth of sea bowing🙇 before His presence Every powers and knees worship, 🛐 before his presence, glory, salvation, healing, blessing, devine favor, love, peace, life hove in His presence, sing melodiously shout excellently even with poetry, sing palm unto thy Lord who is worthy, on whose hands lies everythang. Holy, holy spirit, holy is thy Lord Almighty God. Blessing be the name of thy Lord God. Amen! 🙏
Palm Sunday inspiration.
Ken Pepiton Mar 2023
C'est oui, paste away, we make do, duty calls
Le Bourgeois gentilhomme
(French pronunciation: ​[lə buʁʒwa ʒɑ̃tijɔm],


From the troves of our public domain,
what did you wish you had known,
when you had that chance
at Jeopardy, one chance,
if a wish were truly wished,
we occur to some as riverwise twisted

fibers from longer ago than local time science
allows, you suppose allowing belief with reason,

cause of pain is pain relief, loser role attained,
proof of past trauma drama as collect sets. Points.
Scoring. Exact.
Past out act/ Bam/slap play slips into Chris Hart,
o we all recall him, he did that slapping body music,
and did not comb his hair for a year or so,
-not him, the kid from Orm, the dean's kid.
so in your reader mind, you have a few clues, times
and seasons seen from distant bubbles still,
- Reagan's daughter attended Orm. Datafact.
time slips, mental lubricant for safe letting.
All forms go out be come standard, it is the object.

Like that, or this, to ways to sense make and so
many more point from which one may choose to see.

McLuhan bolted, as I learned the ropes and gears
years ago, a kind of ******* in and out,

with pressing walls, closing in and teeny, tiny holes,
shine so bright as day explodes camera obscura,

on the inner wall on the backside of our eyes,
mindtimespace stirred into a foam,
the old saying, put a head on it, meant something
to sailors in the beer commercials.

I got advice from Ziggy's therapist {that's amindscrew}
in the funny papers, we all saw the truth freeing
knowledge that everyone knows,
nobody is as happy as people in beer commercials.
From a lost crossed thread, that stareted near here. Tis in the midst of this
Zywa Feb 2023
Father is buried,

there is more light now, the sky --


is so much wider.
"Het Bureau - Het A.P. Beerta-Instituut" ("The Office - The A.P. Beerta-Institute", 1998, Han Voskuil), page 45

Collection "Not too bad [1974-1989]"
'I'll live with Thee and be Thy love,'
I said to God, who, as a dove,
Did build a Nest within my Heart,
And who from me shall ne'er depart.

He gardens, farms, and tends a flock
Of silly sheep of spotless stock;
Secure beneath the Shepherd's gaze,
The sheep do roam and safely graze.  

He made for me a robe of wool,
The finest wool that He could pull:
It's snowy white, like Winter's breast:
In spotless wool He hath me drest.  

He makes the Sun to rise and shine,
And turns the fruit of life to wine,
And shares the Vintage when we sup,
And fills, and fills again, my cup.

For Him I sing a song that's new,
Falero, lero, lero, loo!
I pluck a string, and raise my voice,
And alway in the Lord rejoice.

My true love hath my heart, and I
Have His, because I heard on high
His wooing voice, which did me move
To live with Him and be His love.
Compare 'The Passionate Shepherd to His Love' by Christopher Marlowe
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