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Our World                        
          Is our delicate time and space;
          it drains us, yet sews
          all its wisdom in lieu.
          As an honorable thief,
          does it give and it take;
          yet, the World, it refuses
          to learn or give due.

          The World dons scarves
          as dark as the night
          as to peddle its eye
          round a vanity, fair.
          These beautiful veils
          of deceptive insight
          do shamelessly shade
          the reality there.

          And, so, the World speaks
          a fallacious demise,
          and helpless are we
          but to learn for a season.
          So, painfully teething,
          oft made is the choice
          that's ironically borne
          by the curse of it's
                              R E A S O N .

Our Life                        
          it is fickle, and its hurdles, astute,
          are hidden from sight,
          lest we brace for an err.
          Erectors of kingdoms
          and heroes of lore
          have knelt in submission,
          though truly, they bear

          as successors of wisdom;
          and, hashing the mind
          will lessen their fears
          and their Love beatify.
          For, whereas our Love
          will instill in us purpose,
          this World, of its greed
          shall indemnify.

          Blind to this study
          are those who are jaded
          by a constant
          societal scrutiny—
          what spawns of a whisper,
          one so oft mistakes
          as factual precept
          or a mystery.

          And, as nature's allowed,
          through the pain of what's seen,
          born of this mindset's
          a fear that
                              M I S L E A D S .

Our Fear                        
          can be weakness or a tool to enlight,
          and those of the weakness
          shall suffer the blitz;
          the absolute's waning
          shall surely bevex
          such disdaining and hopeless
          a reckless dismiss.

          Misplacing this fear
          makes a host most deranged
          and the doorway to
          failure falls wide.
          The fear of critique,
          and of silence and death,
          all are but wrought
          of the fear of one's life.

          For lesser is known,
          such siring mistrust,
          though, all but uncommon, herein.
          And, those who fear
          are as ignorant sheep,
          but those who do not
          fall astray to the spin.

          Yet, let ignorance be noble;
          for denying Love's endeavor
          be ****** as boiling waters
                              F O R E V E R .

Our People                        
          fall short of the brilliance of babes
          to pursue a suggestion—
          a swindling so grand.
          So, of what mystic gall,
          so bold to demand,
          has the World to serve
          as the Heart of man?

          The wise do not place
          fear in death or the World;
          they take solace in faith
          and fear not this affair.
          Their fear has been placed
          in the face of greatness,
          relieving an ignorant
          soul of despair.

          For only in death
          is there absence of question,
          and far beyond crossing
          will peace enrobe the wise.
          So, sharpen your motive
          and look to the skies;
          for alongside the answer,
          therein, lies the
                              *R E P R I S E !


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¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯
the girl
is quite comical.
i find it entertaining
to watch her fumble
about words and
apologize
to
the
air
.
the girl
staves off the
darkness when she
brings it to light and
my light burns bright
with the
words
she
will
share
for she's
full of hot air
(though a little
shy to spare)
.
the girl
shoves back with
an oxygen-rich burn,
but she listens well
and her heart
is good
like
the
weeds
that grow
under her
watchful
eye
.
the girl
gives me courage
to pray it all forward
and even though she
may never call me
a brother, i'll
surely
grow
stronger,
and i'll rejoice
in the Lord and
i'm thanking
Him for
both
the
girl
and
those
grins as
she struggles
admitting she is
simply illegitimate,
NO LONGER
~!


Cheers
to a fellow
poet in arms!

God bless you, love :)



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---


the Man
sat crosslegged
on a mat of
green reeds

the woman
gulped and
wept as she
broke the
beautiful bottle
and poured out the
oil of spikenard
(worth a year's wages)
onto the head
of the Man

grumbling from
the thief as he
saw the chance
for his fortune
running
down
the
beard
of
the
Man
he
valued
less
than
dust

but i set
these words
down in
rememberance
of this deed

for her

she valued Him
more than
her most prized
possession

more than her
own temple of flesh
she had perfumed

and so
she
prepared
the
Man
for
leaving
His
own.



in DEATH


soulsurvivor
(C) 8/17/2015
I can just imagine
Jesus Christ on the cross
Inhaling that perfume as
He struggled to breathe
And thinking

"Thank you Mary..."

---
¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯
*Choose
words wisely
for the ink of life
is permanent.


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¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯
if any man's palate be perfect,
then let him also be perfect,
but if his palate be
untrained,
then
let him
eat until his
heart's content, for
there is plenty!

and if his
heart
remains
hungry, then
let him ask for
more for his soul is
malnourished and
there is plenty!

and if he
is full and
satisfied, then
let him ask for more
still, for there are those
that starve and still
there is plenty!

and let him share his ration
with his neighbors in good
taste, and let them
dine together in
fellowship, for
**there is plenty!


Come and get your fill! But, don't
forget to share that good bread
of the Gospel of the Christ
with those who might
be hungry!



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