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What cannot my praise effect in your singular mind?
When flattery soothes – or when ambition is blind!
Desire of the heart, is it an earthly vicious seed?
Yet, sprung from high, is it nothing but a ****?
But to God 'tis its glory and when love aspires,
'Tis but a spark of the most heavenliest of fires.
To the ambitious youth, thou too covetous of the flame,
Too full of the vermin running throughout thy frame.
Unwarily led astray from any virtuous ways -
Made drunk with love, and somehow debauched with praise.
Half desire, and half consenting to the ness of the ill,
For in the blood the sentiment - cannot it be still?
To thee I must reply — pray thee - what pretense have I,
To take up arms for justice or for your love’s liberty, I cry?
Love governs with an unquestioning right,
Love’s the defender and love’s the delight.
Be ye good, be gracious, be just, be observant of the laws,
And in loving wonders - be ye especially espoused to love’s cause.
Whom has love ever wronged in all its peaceful reign?
Love cannot sue for justice for any judgement would be in vain.
What millions has love pardoned or has taken on as foes?
To what revenge does love get even or even mildly expose?
Mild, easy, humble, studious and good,
Always inclined toward mercy, never spilling any blood.
If this is the love that you know put it on like a suit,
For in you -  you have God's most beloved attribute.

The age old question deserves a final answer

A view of blue leading a glaring eye
Toward a deathless heaven’s sigh.
Softly sinking the trembling sun,
As haply as I look upon you as I run.
In these thoughts I find myself desiring
God’s art within this simple man’s inspiration.
I look to the East, I look to the West
Looking for the primmer, Heaven’s Rosetta Stone, lest
It all be to difficult to keep it in heaven's focus.
I clean the lens and offer its richness
To a legendary creature somewhere adrift.
She gazes through my eyepiece bereft
Of the inner truth that she sees.
Focused ahead of you, you see the Helix Nebula
Otherwise known as the Eye of God, the Alpha,
The Omega, the Beginning and the End.
It’s then you see your body transcend.
You look from the eyepiece and then into my eyes
And I feel us tantricly knowing that we are soul mates.
“What do you see?” I ask as you turn back into the scope.
You answer, “I see the thread of hope
That holds the entire garland together.
I see that we are small and the world is big.
I see that we came from the one end and forever
We will return to the other."
Looking away from the scope she continues;
"In between in this life there is a contradiction
A duality – And if we are to ever experience
This oneness, the one mirrored in this eyepiece,
Then we as a pair need to break
Through the apparent reality and take
Hold of the hidden reality."
Looking back through the eyepiece
She continues, "That which I see
Is at the source of our dual niche.
Accessing, manifesting..
Mastering this duality returning us always
To source.."  

The heavens are all the proof that anyone ever needs. Endless, timeless , mighty yet tame. I love thinking about timeless most of all.

Praise not the barren, praise the rich consummate flower,
Fair only to those without sight, so full of internal power.
None nobler with an unlimiting petaled command,
Given by the earth’s love to all the native land.
Given a successive name, tall, short, light or dark,
Drawn from those once hidden away in the human Ark.
It is now, as when on the holiest of land
No less joyful as it spreads around my willful gland.
Covering the breach, and lengthening the strand
Rising like the Prince of Consummation’s imagined height,
Coming tumbling downward with diminished fight.
To unbetray the plot free of public scorn,
For this is our only blessing until his blest return.
To all those heaps which one petal does nigh bind,
Blown off, and scattered like tumble weeds that unwind.
What strength can you or your designs propose
With ***** friends who round you upturn their toes?
If the flower is doubtful of how it should you use,
A foreign object would more satisfy its queenly news.
The proud stamen would assemble a friendship ring,
Foment the battle, and support the coming King.
Nor would this royal party ever unite
When in the flower’s arms, it strains to set it right.
Or if understood, the gripping interest soon shall break,
And by odious aid, make the reed return to the weak.
All sorts of vessels, by their successful arts,
Abhorring the panting, encountering their altered hearts.
From love’s incandescent rule, and a heart beats nature’s cry,
Thought, passion, common-wealth and health all belie
As the flower is the champion of all the public good.
As into her arms falls another chief of royal blood,
What may not the suitor hope, and to what applause
Might such a King regain by the flower’s cause.

Nature oh nature - how beautiful is your cause...

How long wilt thou - this generation of deceit and joy – detain,
Starve, and defraud the people of our holiest reign?
Content ingloriously wasted to pass by as our falling days,
Like the flooding rains, as virtuous fools chase each other’s praise:
Till all thy fleshly allegories, now dimmed once shined so bright
As the multitudes grow stale - tarnished with each day’s new light.
Please believe me, ye youth by whose royal fruit thy must be
Gathered before ripened - else ye rot upon the tree.
Heaven itself must be sufficiently allotted, soon of late,
Like some unlucky youthful revolution born purely out of fate.
This false fate whose notions if we watch with skill,
For does not human good depend on human will?
Fortune rolls upward like lava, smoothly it does ascend,
From its first release, it takes not the bend.
But, if un-seized, it glides away like the wind
And leaves us - a late repenting fool far behind.
Now to meet with you, the you reading of this glorious prize,
As I spread these wisdom words before you as above you he flies.
Had thus Old Noah, from whose ***** we all offspring,
Not dared, when fortune called him to be the lead offering,
At the bottom of the ocean in exile he might still remain
And Heaven's sacred anointing oil would have been in vain.
Let Noah’s successional ages to your heart engage
And not shun the examples of this prophesized declining age.
For behold soon there comes three days of darkness to the skies,
As the shadows lengthen into the airs and then we slowly vaporize.

Watching the weather, all the earthquakes, the volcano eruptions, the crazy skies and all - well - if you haven't thought about some of the prophecy you've always heard then perhaps this poem makes very little sense to you. But on the off chance that while you read this piece you too have noticed the weird strangeness now enveloping the globe then maybe you can appreciate why I had to write this.
You by whose sweet nature does rule this text,
As surely as I spell your name, your thoughts it reflects.
My longings my darling are nothing less than your desires,
Our combined cloudy pillar floating on high by our inner fires.
My second dream is but a forethought of your mind’s first wand
Parting my words and showing me your promised hand.
Who’s to say, in some very far off distant age,
They will say that I have exercised some sacred prophet's rage?
An unpeopling prayer within our combined diviner's themes,
Like we were young filled with vision and the old people's dreams!
To thee, my Love’s Savior, to thee my vows’ confess,
I am never satisfied with the time the world gives us in bliss.
Swift do those times pass, bespoken each timely romp, thy hips do proclaim,
These words, a stammering thought teaching me how to whisper thy name.
If you share the meanings hidden in this piece you possibly can understand why I wrote it.  If not, it's just another crock of time.
My wild ambition loves to slide - ye all must understand
But fortune's ice prefers only the most virtuous of hand.
In Malaga I grew weary and wanton to possess
The most colorless canvas, one easy with a lazy happiness,
Disdained by golden fruit to the viewer be
As I passed the crowd to gently shake the tree.
Now manifest in paint, inward contrived and long since
I stood in bold defiance with the heart of a prince,
Held up on the square by one wanting to buy my latest cause.
Against the wind I held it up in spite of all the laws.
Do they wish to thicken my lot among all their other mistakes?
What circumstances find you this? -This is what my mind makes!
The buzzing of my emissaries fill my ears
With many solitary jealousies and fears,
Arbitrary thoughts brought forward into the light,
Contemplating existence, must it prove my vision right?
Weak are the arguments! Which the true artist knows full well,
Where weak minded people curse my renderings or are easy to rebel.
For am I not governed by the moon and by the far off stars?
Tread lightly on me and don’t put me behind your own bars.
And once in a shard of time let the Annunaki’s scribe record,
That my vision once rendered could somehow affect their lord.
The unrecognized Enki still wants to be a chief, yet none
He created was found as fit as barren Adam.
Not that he wished his greatness to create,
For leaders should wish not to be called great.
But he like I know our titles are not to be allowed.
For titles are useless and only dependent upon a crowd,
Those are kingly powers, thus ebbing us out, they might be
Drawn by the dregs of a falsely acclaimed democracy.
But in my paint I attempt, with studied arts to ease,
And shed the unholy venom with visions such as these.
On the other side of the canvas, not much escapes my eye –
But once in front of it – nothing escapes the me that I call I.
I have several prints of Picasso's work and sometimes I ponder their true meanings. I'm like that. I wonder what was the artist thinking as he created this or that piece. Picasso was/is a hard nut to *****. Born of influence and trained mostly by his father he should have had a life of luxury. But such was not the case. For a time he lived almost penniless and hungry a lot of the time. But even in those years he not only refused to conform but he defied all reason to conform to what he was being taught as an artist. Instead he blazed his own trail. And today more people know the name of Picasso than any other artist, I dare say. So - in this piece it is my hope to show you how original he truly was. To me his magic is found in his ability to reflect his own thoughts into - if not inside of - a particular piece of his renderings. After just a little study - you can see him in his drawings, paintings, etc. Here's a last bit of trivia for you concerning Picasso. Were you aware that in his earlier young adulthood that he was so poor that he actually burned some of his own art just to try to stay warm? Think of what any of his burned renderings would be worth today. Now I call that perspective.
If an impeccable ally is false or the implacable ingrate
Resolved to ruin or rule our combined fate
Or to encompass us with the blood oath bonds they've taken
The pillars of our safety shall forever be shaken,
A jilted child removed from a foreigner awakened.
Then seized with fear, yet affecting fame,
Usurped by an intruder’s unatoned name.
So easy still it proves in falsely factious times
With public zeal to cancel their most private of crimes.
How safe is treason and how sacred it’s ill,
Where not even a child is safe to be free at will.
Where evil marchers are all hoodwinked and their offences not be known,
Since in each other’s guilt - they confuse and hide their own.
Yet their fame is undeserved, for I am their enemy with a giant grudge
Once a child that they abhorred, but praise be – I am now their judge.
In my court they sit for me to annihilate their scheme
With my discerning eyes, with these hands that are bloodlessly clean.
Unbribed, unsought, these wretches I redress -
Swift to dispatch them to ease the victim’s distress.
Oh, some call me a heartless hanging judge,
As I dispense my medicine on this vile blood thirsty sludge.
But had I the ownership of these evil souls freed
I’d hang these oppressors twice hoping to redeem their evil seed.
A hanging judge I’m truly not, I’m just a historian in love
Setting heaven straight for the one I serve, the true guardian above.
Daily our news gets weirder and weirder and something tells me that we are just now seeing the tip of the iceberg. If so I pray that God sends us good men and women to weigh through the filth and gives these evil, sadistic, satanic worshiping crazy nutcases their just rewards.
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