There sandy seems the golden sky
And golden seems the sandy plain.
No habitation meets the eye
Unless in the horizon rim,
Some halfway up the limestone wall,
That spot of black is not a stain
Or shadow, but a cavern hole,
Where someone used to climb and crawl
To rest from his besetting fears.
I see the callus on his soul
The disappearing last of him
And of his race starvation slim,
Oh years ago—ten thousand years.

Imagine a world without terror outer
and inner, sans famine of food and water,
where every soul is well-sated; a world
sans sickness and disease, not by the cord
of morbidity and death held; a place
where huts are mansions, every shack is
a castle, and each flat a grand manor;
where the roads are built with pure gold
and the bridges with resplendent diamond;
where the day does not change in colour,
except when full moon in its full array
once in a month has its  own display.

I mean a planet steeping in love
unfeigned, bristling with true hospitality
of the soul; a world bereft of danger,
and of every mind-and-heart breaker;
a world with the similitude of the garden of
Eden, hung on the shoulders of harmony--
where man at another cove's lovely dove
will not leer, where there are
no split and divorce. The genre, stuff
of life where one's pigmentation is
not the cardinal, but the inner essence.

A sort of society where ******, Hussein
and Laden-like fellows and all their
coterie of killers do not have a lair
of habitation, i refer; where besetting sin
has no confederacy with the rotary heart
and mind of man; where the leagues
of villians are non-existence. An earth
where conglomeration of wicked cliques
is non-operational: where everyone be
holy--no child soilder, nor forced labour;
where women are not ravaged in cruelty
of acts, and is void of conflict and war.

Such a place "the world" is not called
but "heaven: governed by the Almighty Lord.

Evil will always invite us to a feast of retaliation—that seductive chance to pay an offender back with more evil, disguised under the pretense of protecting what is rightfully ours and of defending our dignity. Reciprocated malice is what it craves most of us, as it thrives on infecting us with its slimy, slithery, leprous self. It seeks voraciously, insatiably to ensnare, enslave and devour us, for it's a hideously monstrous creature sent from deepest caverns of hell. Its predatory intent is to extinguish our light with its darkness, and if we open the door to it (even a crack) it will reach around with long, lecherous fingers to grab us by the throat and choke the life out of us with such force and speed that we won't even see it coming.

But goodness has an invitation of its own, an invitation both to us and to our offender, an invitation to drive out the infection of evil and illuminate the darkness. It invites us, when offended, into the precarious but glorious adventure of turning the other cheek. But first we must understand clearly that this turning of the cheek should never be mistaken for turning a blind eye to continual sin. It is NOT ignoring the hurt or diminishing the harm done to us so that we might spare ourselves the dreaded inconvenience of rocking the boat and disrupting our own greater interests, nor is it foolishly submitting to evil's unhindered presence around us and control over us while cowering in the face of it. It is not attempting to self-righteously shrug off that which feels to us like a serrated knife twisting in our belly or burying, beneath the layers of an ever toughening heart, the fallout from an ongoing betrayal which mocks all that is decent and sacred. It is not weakly accommodating habitual, sinful behavior in the name of peacemaking, giving up the good fight of faith in order to give in and just live with it while our soul suffocates in the meantime. It is not saying that it doesn't matter, that it's okay or no big deal. To do so (and I have surely done them all) is to deny the powerful truth of the gospel, the truth of the serious and highly offensive nature of all sin, the truth that God absolutely hates it, is greatly angered by it, calls it what it is and that He desires (and has made provision through Jesus Christ) to set sinners free from it, not simply overlook it and leave them entangled in it.

So we too ought to have a righteous anger toward the destructive nature of sin, both in ourselves and in others, seeing it as God sees it and calling it what He calls it by humbly speaking the truth in love and pointing them to Christ. And once we have removed (or are willingly, honestly engaged in the process of removing) the obvious plank(s) from our own eye (including a crouching fear of uncomfortable but necessary confrontation), we are supposed to do what we can (whenever and however the Holy Spirit leads us...that part is most essential) to help others (with mercy, meekness and wisdom from God) remove the speck from theirs. We are called to 'restore gently' (Galatians 6:1) and '****** others from the fire and save them' (Jude 23) as the Lord enables us by His sovereign and saving grace to do it, to enter fully into His kingdom work in this dark world and into the risky business of loving even our worst enemies. It is our high privilege and duty as followers of Jesus Christ and those who bear His name on this earth to participate with Him in His work of redemption. He alone can save and deliver from sin, but we are called to be some of the instruments He providentially uses in the process.

Turning the other cheek (as Jesus taught it, commanded it and lived it out) is a shrewd, deliberate and Spirit-led extending of extravagant grace and unselfish blessing to our offender, along with a daringly tactical invitation to him to show his true colors and his true intentions, whatever they may be. Exactly how this looks and plays out will vary greatly depending on the unique circumstance or relationship, and we must always rely fully on the Lord (on His word and through communion with Him in prayer, His perfect example and His prompting) to give us wisdom and creativity in carrying out our part with humility and discernment, never forgetting that we too are in want of much deliverance from our own sins and besetting habits and therefore in desperate need of others to graciously do the same for us.

We must ask and believe God for His step-by-step direction in all of these things and be willing to follow Him no matter what it might cost us, even if the price is the seemingly unbearable discovery that our offender does not and will not love us—a possibility which may feel worse to us than death. The paralyzing fear of such a devastating revelation can easily become one of our greatest stumbling blocks to giving truly wise and beneficial gifts to those who hurt us, especially if they are among those from whom we desire a particular intimacy and acceptance.

Are we willing to face even more rejection? Are we willing to set aside our own 'need' to be loved by them in order to courageously, unconditionally love them as Jesus loves them and as He loves us—with a yearning for deliverance from sin and restoration to intimacy with God that requires the laying down of oneself for the sake of the other, the spending of oneself on behalf of the spiritually captive, naked, hungry and oppressed? And if not for their sake, are we willing to do it for the sake of our own intimacy with Christ and our own soul's hunger? Are we willing to rest completely in and rely only on His perfect and never-ending love to fill us so full that it cannot help but spill over to them? Are we willing to trust that He is enough for us in all things and at all times through all situations?

However complicated the situation may be, offering the other cheek is meant to be a sacrificially loving and boldly open invitation for our offender to make a clear and definite choice between repentance or continued and greater evil. It gives him the freedom, the responsibility and the obvious opportunity to decide exactly what he will do with our 'other cheek.' Will he 'kiss' it with genuine kindness this time (as a pledge toward true restoration) or strike us once again? The choice and responsibility are his alone, but either way it will eventually expose him for what he really is and his intentions for what they actually are and, perhaps, by the mercy of God bring him to see his need and desire for true reconciliation and healing. Our part is simply to hunger for him to hunger after God and to do what we can to cunningly provoke such an appetite.

But even if that never happens, even if he chooses to remain in captivity to sin, evil will no longer have a safe place to hide in the shadows. And once it is out in the open we can look it fully in the face with our dignity intact and without backing down or shrinking from our call to always be the aroma of Christ, and we can overcome it with the power of good through the strength of Jesus and the praise of His name (even when the situation and the Spirit dictate that it is wisest to keep our mouth shut and 'not cast our pearls...'). And because of Christ's satisfying love and all-sufficient grace, we can do it again and again and again, not with reluctance and resentment but with overwhelming compassion and unexplainable peace flooding our soul, even in the midst of earth-shattering pain. We can defeat evil by our very refusal to give into it or become part of it and by our determination to rest in the Lord and His promise to defend us in His perfect time and in His perfect way. And that is the heart's ultimate 'vengeance' against evil, for surely it cries out resoundingly for it.

So rather than taking our desired revenge on the evildoer (our offender), we can take it straight out upon the evil one (the devil), upon our real enemy and on his evil schemes. One of the weapons which the Lord has given us to carry out this precise form of tactical warfare is forgiveness, and we must learn to use it regularly, skillfully and lavishly without giving way to fearful intimidation or self-serving cowardice. 'And who is equal to such a task?' Only the Spirit of Christ living in us! We are utterly dependent on Him to do it in and through us and, unless we yield to His grace and power, it will be an impossible undertaking.

Dear wounded and hurting ones, we have been issued distinct invitations to two mutually exclusive feasts, and it is time now for us to choose which one we will be attending. There is much at stake in our decision, and so we must journey to the foot of the cross to make it...

the woes
the woes
of the poets did
compound
for there were many woes
around

the woes they couldn't
surmount
woes that stayed on the estate's  
mount

poets tormented by woes
day and night
and there was no respite
for their plight

the woes were never
ending
the woes not ever
suspending

the woes such as
plagiarists
taking works in pilfering
fists

so too the trolls on
patrol
on them no firm
control

woes
woes
woes
besetting
the
poetry
community
woes
woes
woes
permitted
to
act
with
licensed
impunity
woes
woes
woes
of
them
not
much
immunity    
woes
woes
woes

Such words laid down for me the path to the world of light
They stabilized the dark
And hugged me along with my loneliness, however
When I who sought comfort slowly inched to lean
on such warm words, they crumbled at my touch
what a foolish choice it was
to for a second, immerse myself in words of lies
and lean
because on nothing I lean, I begin to fall
all humans with their fragile hearts know well
that something unfortunate enough to fall
breaks

In this sepulchre of sordid desire I rot,
sinking in obscure nostalgia,
waiting.

Lingering historic apparition, besetting me with
the echo of distant inexorable destinies, once intertwined.
You stir my soul. I close my eyes,
listening.

Through the seclusion of a dream arises a pathetic pathos.
The ephemeral vision of your frozen splendor moves me.
This is all it takes. A bittersweet smile transforms me,
remembering.

Your austere form marches to the scaffold, alone.
A river of blame and doubt streams through me, rejected.
forgiving.

I look down at my pale existence. The thin, yellow,
mildewed pages curl at the tips, scarred with the memory of you.
My soul expelled in ink; stricken, crossed, weighed down,
spent.

The past is diaphanous.
This is all. This is nothing.
Stop, look.
Live.

Description seems inadequate
To capture Nature’s essence
When life is solely permanent
In momentary prescience

Yet still her eminence unveils
A grim facade exterior
When setting suns, besetting sails
Reveal the realm’s ulterior

Unmotivated inspiration
Morphing into beauty’s beast
A hideous abomination
Come to wage its war of peace

And watch the world dehumanize
Itself in feasts of banquet flesh
Before starvation’s slow demise
Can feast its eyes on Bangladesh

And sink into the Indian
Where karma is the salt in wounds
Samsara born to die again
In Shiva’s doom-impending tombs

I wanted my pink folds ravished,
Unprepared was he for what i had dished:
A lifetime of fantacy all in one day,
At devotions for is what i would pray;

Hard were my nips at every bite,
My soul leaped at his giant sight,
It is now or never again,
I'm ready to be driven insane.

Another was called daddy tonight,
At the feel of his lenhth and might,
Though his lips tasted as honey,
I still didn't make him my hubby;

Things change when emotions are attached,
Therefore after tonight i will stay detached,
incase i do not meet another to match this strength,
I would return to feel what i have felt.

Oh, how my **** is rock hard,
Lord, am i a sinner, am i really bad?
i'm just a damsel with besetting desires,
just doing all that my flesh requires.

"Come to me baby, fill me up,
My legs wide in the air, do not let them drop,
i will take you on a horse ride, long and hard,
Sure you would faint but will be glad.

I return home to my unsuspecting father,
Although tired but feel so much better,
Home to be daddy's good little girl again,
Until this insanity returns to my brain.

I'll walk a million miles,
In the rain and cold,
Overcoming besetting trials,
Just to get to you;

I'll sail across the sea,
Even if my boat will break,
No Matter what may be,
I'll get to you;

i'll fly across the sky,
In a stormy weather,
Even if i'll have to cry,
I must get to you;

i'll stay awake at night,
No matter what it cost,
Even if i have to fight,
I will get to you.

They say "a spell is on my mind-
it is all a waste of time,
And that my love is blind"
I must get to you;

No matter how long the time,
No matter how far you are,
If i'll spend the last dime,
I must get to you.

You are the pillar of my heart,
The fragrance of my life,
Without you i'll fall apart,
I certainly must get to you.

and let the youngbloods take the reins
infusing our promised land with hope.

You done good for America,
serving as laudatory President
from 2020 to the present
Vice President from 2009 to 2017,
and in the United States Senate
from 1973 until 2009.

The nation teeters on the brink of chaos
legions of legendary nasty
and not so shortish belligerent brutes
aping capering, galloping,
hollering on their figurative high horses
egging, fomenting, instigating,
jimmying, kick/jumpstarting, kindling tinder
activating spark to explode in a reign of terror
decking the hallowed halls with blitzkrieg
videre licet philanthropic donations

courtesy gazillion billionaires
from Wall Street to Silicon Valley
trumpeting their Republican choice
cymbal eyes zing, drumming,
fluting with sax and violins,
whether former president number forty five
loses or clinches what promises
to be a hotly contested election
Tuesday, November 5, 2024
marking the end of the world as we know.

Though no bleeding heart liberal
yours truly vouchsafes
being die hard landlubber
ardently embracing social progressivism
chalked up to a Unitarian upbringing
and parents who would not tolerate
a conservative proponent
of any right wing controversial issues -
just kidding, but in retrospect

a heavily skewed leftist tack
did not disallow opportunities
to spar with intelligent repartee
particularly with father -
Boyce Brandon Harris,
a strongly (read dominantly) opinionated
Democrat, whose willfully voiced notions
set the precedent concerning
what side of an issue would be acceptable.

He passed away October 7th 2020
and would be appalled at current political events
besetting the United States of America
and may even possibly take pen to paper
to sketch an intelligent blurb, drawing,
funny highly jaded literary novelty,
applauding your storied achievements.

Quite frightening the strong lurch toward autocracy,
great probability linkedin to ruthless demagogue,
a machiavellian agent provocateur
one foo fighting beastie boy barbarian, and totalitarian
dead set to eradicate closest approximation
of egalitarian and humanitarian realization
witnessed with starts and fits of enlightenment
and inexcusable decimation,
humiliation, liquidation, and pacification
of peoples dissimilar to ancestors,

who came to Turtle Island
(a name for Earth or North America,
used by some American Indigenous peoples,
as well as by some Indigenous rights activists)
from northern Europe, especially England,
and who were formerly considered
to have a lot of power and influence
nevertheless wrought a continent
associated with the land of the free,
and the home of the brave

serving as a beacon for possibility of lofty ideals
to attain salutary manifestation within the realm
spanning from the mountains to the prairies
to the oceans white with foam
encompassing diverse topography
from sea to shining sea
spurred courtesy ignominious manifest destiny
nevertheless anchored by
Constitution of the United States
a cherished living and breathing document.

In April 2023, the Heritage Foundation
published the 920-page Mandate,
written by hundreds of conservatives,
most prominently former Trump administration officials.

After I read excerpts of Project 2025,
courtesy news worthy publications
such as Mother Jones, The Nation,
The Week, and TIME Magazine
my intimation jump/kick started
to make a general conclusion
that said tome of a door stopper
cast dark foreboding shadows
hinting the outer limits
of many important legislative milestones

promulgated for the benefit of society,
especially post American Civil War
granted then revolutionary smart
transformations from isolationist
essentially incorporating xenophobia into  
broad-mindedness suddenly
on the figurative chopping
if former president Trump  
garners the majority of votes,
whereby he would set in motion

looming monstrous nightmare outlined
in above titled manifesto
would spell gloom and doom
not only across the contiguous United States,
plus Alaska, but affect
western civilization in general
resurrecting the ghost of despotism
eviscerating the guts of the unique experiment
in government courtesy founding fathers
(though no doubt significant women

played an important role
helping to bring into fruition
mandates and female dates
resulting in our raison d'être
to pursue vocations to allow, enable, and provide
free market enterprise an economy
where the market determines prices,
products, and services rather than the government.
Free enterprise focuses on the private sector,
private investment, private risk taking,
private innovation, etc.

Laissez faire represents the other side of the coin,
the absence of government interference
in the private sector, especially in matters
of trade-policy (the historical origin of the term).