Throw away thy rod,
Throw away thy wrath:
O my God,
Take the gentle path.

For my heart’s desire
Unto thine is bent:
I aspire
To a full consent.

Not a word or look
I affect to own,
But by book,
And thy book alone.

Though I fail, I weep:
Though I halt in pace,
Yet I creep
To the throne of grace.

Then let wrath remove:
Love will do the deed;
For with love
Stony hearts will bleed.

Love is swift of foot;
Love’s a man of war,
And can shoot,
And can hit from far.

Who can ’scape his bow?
That which wrought on thee,
Brought thee low,
Needs must work on me.

Throw away they rod;
Though man frailties hath,
Thou art God:
Throw away thy wrath.

if learned darkness from our searched world

should wrest the rare unwisdom of thy eyes,
and if thy hands flowers of silence curled

upon a wish,to rapture should surprise
my soul slowly which on thy beauty dreams
(proud through the cold perfect night whisperless

to mark,how that asleep whitely she seems

whose lips the whole of life almost do guess)

if god should send the morning;and before
my doubting window leaves softly to stir,
of thoughtful trees whom night hath pondered o’er
—and frailties of dimension to occur

about us
              and birds known, scarcely to sing

(heart,could we bear the marvel of this thing?)

HUMAN FRAILTIES
Smiles do not tell the true character
Love is not what it seems
Friendship can be faked
There is deception in dreams


Words hide too many lies
Promises are made to be broken
Who would self-accuse
Condemn words he has spoken?

It is impossible to compass life without suffering harm
from loved ones.
Wrongs that take the ground from under the feet.
Wrongs that hurt heart through and through.
Wrongs that make us distraught victim.
Does forgiveness immunize us for further injustices?
Does forgiveness soothe suffering?
One thing is certain, everyone has been hurt in life
and everyone once inflicted wound:
betrayal,
selfishness,
criticism,
unjust judgment,
bad word,
emotional abuse,
unfair reward.

Love that bears all things, and endures all things
shows the principle of overcoming evil with good.
We live in times where love is seen as pleasure.
When there is lack of fulfillment the connection ends
instead of support in moments of weakness,
jointly bearing burden,
willingness to give up the ego.
In relations underflow of virtues is worthless.
Every love at some point hurts.
The more we love the greater the suffering.
Remember, that you are also sometimes hard to bear.

One of the most important lessons in life
is non acceptance of evil.
Always we are entitled to protest and defense.
There is a difference between sagacious enduring of injustice
and permition for hard time and  humilitation.
Defense against evil should be free from desire
for revenge, hate, wrath, punishment and anger.
Leave vengeance to God.
The point is love. It is she who shows the right path.
The cure for the human pain of injustice is forgiveness.

Man needs time to forgive,
therefore necessary at times of touch of hurt is compassion.
Does forgiveness mean to forget?
No, forgiveness is an act of will not of forgetting.
Great injury can not be erased from memory.
Forgiveness is duty that gives hope and strength for the future.
Forgiveness is the transition from helplessness to peace of heart.
Forgiveness is overcoming anger and grief towards acceptance of reality.
Is forgiveness reconciliation?
No, although it is a quantum leap in the direction of reconciliation.
There is no way to force act of reconciliation.
Forgiveness is one thing,
and to be mature for reconciliation is another thing.
Most important in forgiveness is not to rely
on gesture of compensation.

Some believe that only weak people forgive.
Forgiveness requires tremendous effort and courage.
It is easier to sail away in anger
than creative dialogue which leads to remedy of the situation.
Without forgiveness you can not win
with guilt, abyss of past and human frailties.
Forgiveness is above all priceless gift for yourself.
Forgiveness frees you from inner poisons,
and also opens up new lands.
If we are able to injure,
we are also able to say the sorry and make amends.
Act of contrition allows for a true change of heart.
Act of forgiveness is the bud of heart at peace.

The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
The lowing herd wind slowly o’er the lea,
The ploughman homeward plods his weary way,
And leaves the world to darkness and to me.

Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight,
And all the air a solemn stillness holds,
Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight,
And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds;

Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tower
The moping owl does to the moon complain
Of such as, wandering near her secret bower,
****** her ancient solitary reign.

Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree’s shade,
Where heaves the turf in many a mould’ring heap,
Each in his narrow cell for ever laid,
The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.

The breezy call of incense-breathing morn,
The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed,
The ****’s shrill clarion, or the echoing horn,
No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.

For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn,
Or busy housewife ply her evening-care;
No children run to lisp their sire’s return,
Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.

Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield,
Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke:
How jocund did they drive their team afield!
How bowed the woods beneath their sturdy stroke!

Let not Ambition mock their useful toil,
Their homely joys and destiny obscure;
Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile
The short and simple annals of the poor.

The boast of heraldry, the pomp of pow’r,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e’er gave,
Awaits alike th’ inevitable hour.
The paths of glory lead but to the grave.

Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault,
If Memory o’er their tomb no trophies raise,
Where through the long-drawn aisle, and fretted vault,
The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.

Can storied urn, or animated bust,
Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath?
Can Honour’s voice provoke the silent dust,
Or Flattery soothe the dull cold ear of Death?

Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid
Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire;
Hands, that the rod of empire might have swayed,
Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre;

But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page,
Rich with the spoils of Time, did ne’er unroll;
Chill Penury repressed their noble rage,
And froze the genial current of the soul.

Full many a gem of purest ray serene
The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear;
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air.

Some village-Hampden that with dauntless breast
The little tyrant of his fields withstood,
Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest,
Some Cromwell, guiltless of his country’s blood.

Th’ applause of list’ning senates to command,
The threats of pain and ruin to despise,
To scatter plenty o’er a smiling land,
And read their history in a nation’s eyes,

Their lot forbad: nor circumscribed alone
Their growing virtues, but their crimes confined;
Forbad to wade through slaughter to a throne,
And shut the Gates of Mercy on mankind,

The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide,
To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame,
Or heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride
With incense kindled at the Muse’s flame.

Far from the madding crowd’s ignoble strife
Their sober wishes never learned to stray;
Along the cool sequestered vale of life
They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.

Yet ev’n these bones from insult to protect
Some frail memorial still erected nigh,
With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture decked,
Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.

Their name, their years, spelt by th’ unlettered Muse,
The place of fame and elegy supply:
And many a holy text around she strews,
That teach the rustic moralist to die.

For who, to dumb Forgetfulness a prey,
This pleasing anxious being e’er resigned,
Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day,
Nor cast one longing ling’ring look behind?

On some fond breast the parting soul relies,
Some pious drops the closing eye requires;
Ev’n from the tomb the voice of Nature cries,
Ev’n in our ashes live their wonted fires.

For thee, who, mindful of th’ unhonoured dead,
Dost in these lines their artless tale relate;
If chance, by lonely Contemplation led,
Some kindred spirit shall enquire thy fate,—

Haply some hoary-headed swain may say
“Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn
Brushing with hasty steps the dews away
To meet the sun upon the upland lawn;

“There at the foot of yonder nodding beech,
That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high,
His listless length at noon-tide would he stretch,
And pore upon the brook that babbles by.

“Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn,
Mutt’ring his wayward fancies would he rove;
Now drooping, woeful-wan, like one forlorn,
Or crazed with care, or crossed in hopeless love.

“One morn I missed him from the customed hill,
Along the heath, and near his fav’rite tree;
Another came; nor yet beside the rill,
Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he:

“The next, with dirges due in sad array
Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne,—
Approach and read, for thou can’st read, the lay
Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.”

                THE EPITAPH

Here rests his head upon the lap of earth
A Youth, to Fortune and to Fame unknown:
Fair Science frowned not on his humble birth,
And Melancholy marked him for her own.

Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere,
Heaven did a recompense as largely send:
He gave to Misery (all he had) a tear,
He gained from Heaven (’twas all he wished) a friend.

No farther seek his merits to disclose,
Or draw his frailties from their dread abode,
(There they alike in trembling hope repose,)
The ***** of his Father and his God.

Does God Love Me?
By Harry Toye

He suffered and He died for you,
An agonising death on a rugged cross;
Tortured and crucified for you,
To save the sick, the lonely and the lost.

Black hearted Pilate washed his hands in a dish of delph,
It could have been in blood as much as in water.
He may as well have nailed Jesus to the cross himself,
For it was he who gave the fatal order.

They surrounded Him in the dark of night,
Armed guards with torches aglow;
The crowds milled expecting a fight,
But Jesus said, “It is I you seek, let the others go”.

On His Head a crown of black thorns they did add,
Their tips dipped in a deadly poison;
A practice that could drive ordinary men mad,
As the Blood of Christ turned those tips to crimson.

The mass of bleeding tissue was revealed,
As ruthless Romans scourged again and again;
Strips of skin were torn and peeled,
But not even once did Jesus complain.

They mocked and insulted,
They ripped the cloak from blood congealed;
They pierced His Hands and His feet,
His back was like a furrowed field.

When they nailed Him to that cross,
They nailed our sickness and our sin;
They nailed your pain and your loss,
So you would learn the Kingdom of God is within.

His friends who loved Him looked up and cried,
The sky darkened and clouds gathered as if nightfall;
When Jesus looked down at the mob, just before He died,
His Heart of Love still forgave them all.

He had created the very wood and also the nails,
And even the merciless men who drove them through;
Despite the leather whip with it’s leaded tails,
He pleaded, “Forgive them Father; they know not what they do”.

They took Him from the cross and gave Him to His Mother,
She cradled and she held this Blessed Fruit of her womb;
She cried for her baby that once she lay in a manger,
But now she prepared to lay her baby in a tomb.

However three days later the impossible happened,
And Mary’s pierced heart was healed;
She screamed with Joy as the tomb was opened,
Jesus had defeated death, to all it was revealed.

He had endured and He had triumphed, this story is true,
How He dispelled darkness with the light of love that day;
And He would suffer it all over again, even if for only you,
So that you too can live again in a most abundant way.

Who is this faithful man who now holds out His Hand?
This man who is always honest, always true.
Who speaks to pain and misery and it’s forever banned,
He is the one who will never leave or forsake you.

You may not know Him yet but He knew you before you were born,
He knows everything about you, your strength and your frailties;
He loved you in the womb, before you were even formed,
And He will love you forever, and through all eternities.

For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.
John 3:16

©Harry Toye 2014.  http://www.fivefoldministryireland.com

Frailties overlooked--
**** is fragrance, snoring a nocturne
with affection.

I never spotted perfect with 7 many years, that may be, until eventually I just rode by having a snowstorm in Cheyenne, Wy piles. Neither of the two does That i of course bear in mind just how the results in difference in autumn for the east coast Cheap Fitflop Malaysia, and the way they will appear like fire flames lunging on the sky inside tones of persimmon, cardamom, peridot, wine red and rust. However not too long ago experienced this and much more by going to typically the Baltimore Booklet Pageant the day with Sept . 28, 2003. Even while I can look at using an superb meal inside the Renaissance Resort dismissing the actual have or use the handyroom I really performed at "Writing Entertaining Imagination," it absolutely was the seasons which often discussed in my opinion. Both these incidents-the excellent skiing conditions together with the results in changing-reminded us just how much I have got bad a pageantry with the gardening seasons. Simply because got time consuming relaxed excursion across the states, I thought overall regarding basically the la position for the third 20 a long time seems to have distracted myself towards swapping times. On the other hand, I don't know once this may possibly helped me to recognize an alternative growing months inside my living. We are in front of the imminent diminished my favorite ultimate surviving mother or father. Purchased, grow older Eighty three, who have serious osteoarthritis and rheumatoid arthritis, has worsened since I discovered her during the past year. Surprisingly, I would not think sadness, but a resignation, a feeling that this is part of the life never-ending cycle. Just like the music, "Everything will have to improve.Inch That is the totally different problem at the time We displaced our momma. I used to be now 100 % unprepared in the event that my favorite the mother was killed of your sudden cardiac event in December Just one, 1993 that we seemed some fury, nearly an important rail alongside God. How could You? Ways dare You operate the following women, exactly who I was really acknowledging has been my base, that carried us on the inside of your girlfriend, whose quite fingers moves We spotted mimicked around my own? This era ended up being to grow to be some tips i afterwards discovered for the reason that darkest winter season about wellbeing. Looking back, It is my opinion my very own problem was in fact a natural part of just what usually symbolizes have an effect on the original parent, in particular the momma. Those are the basic items, we all, just as novelists, will need to draw in our writing--the shifting months people day-to-day lives, people letters, on their trips and how many of our character types deal with these folks. As soon as the Baltimore Arrange Festival, I ended with Detroit. Even though presently there, When i had dad out from her brand-new residence-a nursing jobs home-to obtain a milkshake in Carl's junior, and even though moving him as part of his motorized wheel chair, I just sensed for instance the father or mother. I have been don't annoyed on the subject of his particular becoming people, his particular frailties, his own failings, (that have been far more obvious due to the fact my own maternal dna fatality.) Freezing imagined her to help you check out heat of the sun at her tissue-like pores and skin, whereby you could possibly begin to see the azure problematic veins. I actually sunken myself 100 % inside decisive moment. We've been experiencing the natural light. Irrelevant of the calling I'd received from my personal hometown, Detroit, concerning how ugly it is about Pop, "He's in that brand-new turmoil," or "that innovative crisis"-I wasn't extended irritated. Within the connected with a original public individual, To begin with . to help you reframe the matter. In contrast to contemplating my personal daddy's slower loss of life simply because Cheap Fitflop Shoes, "Isn't doing it awful the way in which become old in addition to die?In . here are currently being how a the seasons in everyday life transform. As a writer, we regularly come up with from the conclusion, "What however, if ...In I absolutely point out, can you imagine we all reframe a lot of the issues of joining the dinner generation-dealing along with children/grandchildren/elderly parents? Imagine this is often a festivity?

I really saw my best father's temper carry because instructed her just how blessed the guy would have been to now have some sons who have checked available for your ex boyfriend, not to mention three little girls. Exactly how skilled he's being a Ebony mankind, to get little children who may have prepared your partner's everyday living much better, for money, when you virtually all started. I really came across all the treatment inside brothers' face when i suggested it for the health care they've got brought to during the throughout the last 90 years many years, which includes settling your ex within a elderly care facility historically month, although it is often in opposition to my favorite daddy's choices, however was basically just for his / her better great. It struck me. My own inlaws and I are currently all the seniors. What's more, as an author, Now i'm currently a teacher-the little come to others meant for guidance.

We're trustworthy to give in the experiences as a result of preceding years to a new generation on the way, as being a people today, lived through, which describes why I think it is vital for american to write down our own articles. Sadly ,, for African-Americans, a great deal the historical past was initially damaged or lost as, though there was basically your dental customs, plenty of people still did not publish its testimonies documented on daily news. As a general penning tactic, When i came across a pattern. On paper, some remarkable summer often connote a trending up get out of hand in our characters' activities. As an example, typically the characters just fall in love, get a household, have a very the baby, and grab special deals. They are simply happy. Paradoxically, a new figurative fall and winter typically reflect some sort of volitile manner, which can be known as the "inciting occurrence,Within in a very report. Someone don't likes you and also results in one. A friend or relative dies out of the blue. Or simply a cherished one is definitely the sorry victim in mindless abuse. The smoothness becomes sorry. For a quick blizzard hard to bear a person's tidy daily life, typically the character's world is usually thrown away about stabilize. This can be the center with trouvaille. Loaded to listen about how exactly good your own character's a lot more. Imagination is centered on bother.

Now perhaps even the appropriate lifetime really ought to get hold of worried to keep your readers changing web pages. Concurrently, even though Fitflop Sale Online, It looks like that him and i ought to learn to look at the excellent of these downhill spirals and rehearse it inside our writing. Even while a lot of these awful instances are actually everything that compel you on, we have to reveal typically the advantage in this, much too. It really is usually while in the "symbolic" winter season that the character's mettle will likely be subjected to testing, and also reader will find out what they're constructed from. As a writer, you would possibly consult, so how exactly does the transform and also be because of this specific wintry year or so? May he / she range from sceptical to be able to optimists? Mistrustful in order to trusting? Mean to be able to non-profit (for example Scrooge)? The character could also read the undo of menstrual cycles. Sarcastically, equally winter time means loss of life, (like. loss of life from a connection, departure of our own children's, loss individuals illusions,) there is also a some part resurrection within this end scenario. Hard usually is when we experience a disaster, i am plopped level on our supports, occasionally essentially, and forced, (whether or not from much of our could,) to think. Exactly what privacy or maybe nutrition will the identity identify subsequently? In particular, presently, Simply put i gaze at how my mummy might be born-again again and again at a frosty working day when I drink a common tumbler connected with broth, that is certainly one of your ex lots of ways connected with taking care of.

Currently I'm wondering. Just what remembrances might your dads continue winter time bring in myself? Might it be the love on the good anecdote or perhaps her story-telling potential he given to if you ask me? I don't know. Nonetheless I understand. In the midst of daily life, we are now throughout demise, to be able people we will have to adapt to those exceptional, wonderful events that make up each of our humanity. In the end, mainly because Ruben Irving was concluded her epic saga around the world Depending on Garp, Inch ... business people are station incidents.In . Copyright (d) 2008 Dark-colored Butterfly Marketing
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with what sense does
this sea of read
pirouette on?

the soot leaving black
blotches on the ****** sheets,
lampposts do not complain
of sudden twitches
as cacophonously, a line
of machines with their ravenous
machinisms create a seam of
crimson to a slender
rose's architecture.

i leave my engine on
so as to hand this road
my readiness,
Ely Buendia on the tattered radio
leaks outside the ajar windows,
chasing the dream of rearing
movements
as my flesh remains dreamless,
stationary.

there is a sequined gathering here.
erratic simulations of
naked eyes pierce the musk
of the austere air's gravity
of existence.

all of us
occupying space
and our attendance is our
sigh of dismay as our homes
decompose in waiting,
as our beds remind us
of our body's aging clamor,
as our ineluctable senescence
opens the dungeons of our frailties
with its trembling, wrinkled hands.

we are our waiting's consummation
as we are left here,
wary of our precise proprioception,
left in
the tongue-tied dark.

A drink isn't hard to swallow,
but a divorce, a lost child, death, they are.
The wind comes up, blows away dreams,
ends marriages, sifts through plans,
hopes, throws out what it wants.

A drink isn't hard to swallow,
but growing old, pain, dying dogs, they are.
The wind comes up, tears our garments,
exposes our frailties, our nakedness,
thoughtlessly shreds our defenses.
At times like these
A drink isn't hard to swallow.
---

Knees, keep supporting me
You know I believe in you
Stop with all the frailties
And get me where I'm rolling to
Unscrew
All the blues
You sing and keep running in time
Well fed, sleep when you're dead
Or at least aT the end of this rhyme

Pause time, wipe off the grime
Focus on the words I have to say
Ran five hundred score, just a few more
And we can be in a happy place
Don't stop
Don't drop
Reach mountaintop and valley low
Haters degrade the progress made
Saying that we run too fast, too slow

Oh yes, do your best
Until you glimpse that finish line
Past the dream to reality
And see it was you all this time
These knees
Strongly
Wanted to finish just as bad as you
God be blessed, revel in success
We all run, but how you finish is up to you

’Tis better to be vile than vile esteemed
When not to be receives reproach of being,
And the just pleasure lost, which is so deemed
Not by our feeling, but by others’ seeing.
For why should others’ false adulterate eyes
Give salutation to my sportive blood?
Or on my frailties why are frailer spies,
Which in their wills count bad what I think good?
No, I am that I am, and they that level
At my abuses reckon up their own.
I may be straight though they themselves be bevel.
By their rank thoughts, my deeds must not be shown,
    Unless this general evil they maintain:
    All men are bad, and in their badness reign.

There is no guide book for life
look as hard as you can,
a boy
grows into a man
and a girl
matures into a woman,

someone told me that
I didn't read it
though it might have assisted me
in my own growing maturity
to know the odds.

And then we reach a point where
the love of life is there, but
the time of our life is almost gone,

that point where we wanted to go on
when the mind was willing
and yet the thought of time killing us
halted us
in our tracks.

I have chosen to be frozen
just prior to the point
when my mind is a blank
like it's
a new passport to frank
and I thank my lucky stars
there is time to find all
those things
that books are written of.

I want to be the me that I wanted to be when I was a kid who dreamed of being the me that I’ll be when I turn 70
I want to be a race car, a ******* rush; I want to be a daredevil on both
I want to be a tight-rope circus act, and tread daily on loose strings with firm feet and handstands
I want to be a shaman with normal senses, instead of a normal person with shamanistic pretenses
I want to look what I saw, I want to listen what I heard, I want to speak what I said with absolute, immaculate, immovable conviction
I want to be like Jim Morrison, and sail to the moon on a crystal ship
I want to be 25% pessimistic, 25% optimistic, 50% opportunistic surrealist
I want to be an Anti-Christ neutral anarchist, and go on a nihilistic bowling spree
I want to be like Jeff Lebowski
I want to be an unintentionally over-achieving burnout who’s proud of his very human frailties
I want to be my own version of Salvador Dali’s first drafts, Allen Ginsberg’s papers and Jack Kerouac’s path
I want to write serenades about melted ice-cream, burnt sausages…and similar tragedies
I want to be a comedic prophet with bad timing; I want to laugh at a funeral-my own funeral
I want to be a suicide note; an obituary that says, ‘**** Condolences! I’m dead. Now, just let me be’
And although, I’m not half the things I said I wanted to be,
I’m an ancient nutshell with reinforced-concrete casing and recent cracks that show the me that I am right now,
I’m an educated, at most times mostly illiterate kind of bloke
I’m a six feet tall hormonal speck of snowflake on snow
I’m a growing ukulele, dreaming of bursting out an improvised, deafening, soul scathing Electric guitar solo, on an amp that goes up to 11!
I’m a short-tempered, soft-spoken, heavy-breathing embodiment of all I’ve wanted to be and the things I’ll never be
But right now, I am the me, that I want to be
And all the other ‘me’s would be proud if they could see me.

(In Memory of Miss Araceli M. Katigbak, TMA’s Miss Grammar)

You taught us
to talk and write head up high
in a tongue to foster,
that is not our mother
The scroll of rules
and the roster of exceptions
you’ve mastered
and you made us master,
patiently you nurtured
the timid buds
diligently you challenged us
daily, and your voice
still reverberates –
Correct practice makes perfect!
Beyond subject-predicate agreements
Your treasured grammar lessons
taught the young at heart,
the malleable minds:
Every man or every woman is
but
Men or women are,
regardless or irrespective
of beginnings,
required to know:
1. There are rules to be followed.
- and we expanded this to our lives,
and not just our paragraphs and sentences
2. There are exceptions to be considered.
- and you indirectly taught us,
to recognize differences
and that difficulties of the English language
are just like people’s frailties
and our friends’ idiosyncracies
3. Mastering grammar is good
but honesty is the best!

And thus, your lessons most precious
are far above your prim and proper dress and shoes
and your gospels of correct usage, syntax and other linguistic gems
delivered good citizenship and how-to-be-a-good-friend items.
The Good English we learned are words to live by
You’ve given us treasures no money can buy.

Into the darkness of midnight lies
the fall of many righteous skies
devoid of love and self-assurance
where demons thrive through perseverance
to consume innocence with haunting fears
which overshadow their victims in despair
for the hope of light burning internal
dims as concern rules the fraternal
hidden under the guise of dignified uncertainty
to follow the footprints left by predecessors
tormented by the visions of conquest
over land, possessions, and prominence
able only to behold the frailties of souls
buried deep within shallow but hollow goals
conjuring sinister thoughts to become undead
to greet fate with a hideously gruesome end
as they ***** the life out of reason and wisdom
feasting upon the remains like laughing hyenas
until the rise of daybreak only to scurry away
and eagerly await another knight to lose his way.

O, never say that I was false of heart,
Though absence seemed my flame to qualify.
As easy might I from my self depart
As from my soul which in thy breast doth lie.
That is my home of love; if I have ranged,
Like him that travels I return again,
Just to the time, not with the time exchanged,
So that myself bring water for my stain.
Never believe though in my nature reigned
All frailties that besiege all kinds of blood,
That it could so preposterously be stained
To leave for nothing all thy sum of good;
    For nothing this wide universe I call
    Save thou, my rose, in it thou art my all.

Edges of shadows
In the corners of eyes
Too fast to see
It might be me

Is it true
What you see?
Is it real?
Is it really me?

You do not hear my voice
Or know the colour of my eyes
You would not know me in the street
Or recognise my accent
Should we meet

And yet
You have seen my soul
In the words I write
And even the spaces between them

Those who care to look
Can know my story
My frailties
My vulnerabilities
My reality

This may be my curse
And my gift to you
Whatever it may be
You know that it is true

                                   By Phil Roberts

She feels her frailties
Gnawing at one another
Believing that's the escape
From the somber vessel in which they've been trapped
The vessel that constantly strives to set them ablaze
Yearning to free herself
Of these blemishes that keep coming back to haunt her
As if they never really left -
As if they've always just been watching -
From under the bed
Or through the window
Tormenting her with their eyes
That seem darker than the hollows around hers

Should you follow footsteps
walked in blackouts?

Age bring wisdom
to some.
To some it brings concrete
to set them in their ways
and it weighs them down to younger days.

Rage forms little more than a fist,
a tight grip that holds. It unfolds
under the eyelids; that's where he hides it.
In control of a beast
that should've been tamed or destroyed.

I saw prints in the debris of adolescence
and followed in an immature suit.
Eventually this led me into the night
docile, hostile and not always an honest smile.

An enemy that's almost like a brother to me
preys on my frailties, daily. But
if words form *****
then I am the four walls.

Why does it sometimes feel
like I'm the role model?

Remembering our dead
Mansions, or humble abodes
Virtues or deeds

Learned by heart
Nights of gladness
Morning sorrows

Stories as grains of sand
Forming eternal rocks
Or leaves from a tree
Shelters of hopes and dreams
  
Ocean waves drowning breath
Dreams crumbling as castles
Small homes becoming shrines
Images we choose, or not

Our great grands looking back
Thinking of us as we of ours
Long for memories to grow

Good grows as hands reach out
In time to lift, serve or destroy

Things break and lose charm
Those we feared and loved
Or guides found with sobs

Moments of shared delight
Human frailties, loss and pain
Keep us in want
Never enough, always too much

The hell of heaving
Infernos of inherited pride
Or careful purpose and deeds
Blessing those left

We follow their climb
When plotting our course
In darkness hides the light
Doors close in mind

A time will come
in your life when something will wake you




and your fears
and insanity will finally forsake you.



You stop dead in
your tracks and somewhere the voice



inside your head
cries out… ENOUGH! Just rejoice!



Enough fighting
and crying and constantly blaming



and struggling to
hold on, and senselessly shaming.



Then, like a
child quietening down after a tantrum, you blink back your tears



and begin to look
at the world through new eyes, without fears.



This is your
awakening, you realise it’s time to stop hoping



and waiting for
something to change, whilst you’re barely just coping,



or for happiness,
safety and security to magically appear



over the next
horizon at which you anxiously peer.



You realise that
in the real world there isn’t always a fairy tale ending,



and that any
guarantee of “happily ever after” must begin with self-mending.



And in the
process a sense of serenity is born, but not by de rigueur,



You just awaken
to the fact that you don’t perfectly configure.



That not everyone
will always love, appreciate or approve of who or what you are



And that’s OK,
for they’re entitled to their own views and opinions, you’ve got here so far.



You learn the
importance of loving and championing yourself, and start the removal,



of outmoded
behaviours, in order to process a sense of new found self-approval.



You stop
complaining and blaming other people for the things they did to you,



or didn’t do for
you – for only thing you can count on is the unexpected, ain’t that true!



You learn that
people don’t always say what they mean, or mean what they say,



and that not
everyone will always be there for you anyway,



and everything
isn’t always about you. So, you learn to stand on your own two feet



and to take care

of yourself…  for you are actually
complete.



And in the process
a sense of safety and security is born of self-reliance.



You stop judging
and pointing your finger in defiance.



You begin to
accept people as they are and start to overlook



their
shortcomings and human frailties, don’t live by THAT book.



And in the
process a sense of peace and contentment is born of forgiveness.



You learn to open
up to different points of view whilst not making them your business.



You begin
reassessing and redefining,



smudging your
edges; perceptions realigning.



Distilling who
you are at your core.



Titrating what
you really stand for.



You learn the
difference between wanting and needing



and throw out childhood
schemas from psychological spoon-feeding.



You begin to
discard the doctrines and values you’ve outgrown,



or should never
have bought into to begin with, but in your youth you were shown.



You learn that
there is power and glory in contributing and creating,



and you stop
maneuvering through life merely as a consumer, unsatisfied and berating.



You learn that

principles such as honesty and integrity are not the outdated ideals of a
bygone era,



but the mortar

that holds together the foundation upon which you must build a life to hold
dearer.



You learn that
you don’t know the answers to any and everything,



it’s not your job
to save the world and that you can’t teach a pig to sing.



You learn the
only cross to bear is the one you choose to carry



and that martyrs
get burned at the stake, regardless of whether or not you do tarry.



Then you learn
about love. You learn to look at relationships as they really are



and not as you
would have them be; for they will hurt and scar.



You learn that
‘alone’ does not necessarily mean lonely.



You stop trying
to control people, situations and outcomes, and thinking ‘If Only!’



You learn to
distinguish between responsibility and guilt,



And the

importance of setting boundaries and learning to say ‘NO’, when ‘YES’ is
inbuilt.



You also stop
working so hard at putting your feelings aside,



Or smoothing things
over and ignoring the resentment inside.



You learn that your
body really is your temple, and finally select,



to care for it,
and treat it with love & respect.



You begin to eat
a balanced diet, drink more water, and take exercise.



You spirit starts
to soar, which should come as no real surprise.



You learn that
being tired fuels doubt, uncertainty and fear



so you take more
time to rest and be with the people you hold dear.



And, just as food
fuels the body, laughter fuels the soul.



So you take more
time to laugh and to play, and make joy your goal.



You learn that,
for the most part, you get in life what you deserve,



and that much of
life truly is a self-fulfilling prophecy, which will unfold without reserve.



You learn that
anything worth achieving is worth working for,



and that wishing
for something to happen is different than making it happen; for sure.



More importantly,
you learn that in order to achieve success you need direction,



discipline and
perseverance, but most importantly, self-affection.



You learn that no
one can do it all alone,



and that it’s OK
to risk asking for help and sharing your zone.



You learn the
only thing you must truly fear is fear itself,



For you learn to
step right into and right through your fears and not hide them on some shelf



In the recesses
of your mind.



You treat
yourself well, treat yourself kind.



Because you know
that whatever happens you can handle those fears



As the fire in
you burns brighter with the passing of your years



For to give in to
fear is to give away the right



to live life on
your own terms, filled with much love and light



You learn to
fight for your life and not to squander your hours,



living under a
cloud of impending doom which will sprinkle you with its showers.



You learn that
life isn’t always fair, you don’t always get what you think you deserve



and that

sometimes bad things happen to good people whose fate you are unable to
preserve



and you learn not
to always take things so personally, or let your pride be so bruised.



You learn that
nobody’s punishing you and that you are not always being abused.



It’s just life
happening. You learn to admit when you are wrong



and to build
bridges instead of walls, from which you can sing your life’s message all along.



You lean that
negative feelings must be understood and redirected



or they will

suffocate the life out of you and the universe which will just become more
infected.



You learn to be
thankful and to take comfort in the many different gifts



That we the lucky
ones possess in this world of deep rifts,



things that
millions of people upon the earth would love to have just for one hour:



a full
refrigerator, clean running water, a soft warm bed, a long hot shower.



Then, you begin
to take responsibility for yourself,



by yourself, and
you make yourself



a promise to
never betray yourself



and to never,
ever settle for less than you heart’s desire and good health.



You make it a
point to keep smiling, to keep trusting,



and to stay open
to every wonderful possibility in this life which is there for the lusting.



Finally, with
courage in your heart, you take a stand, you take a deep breath,



and you begin to
design the life you want to live as best as you can, to the death.

Matt Revans
©Copyright

Emulating the reflection of seasons
passing, its waning desire to stay.

Lingering in flurries of breath until
it descended in frailties last moments .

Life became fragmented an outline
now broken.

for my friend, the artist,
Ayesha Joy Burkey

the answer simplest,
is there any other way?

we paint, fashion jewelry,
even human beings,
for and from
wire, stone, DNA,
and paint

our harshest critics,
ourselves,
always we busy saying,
not good enough

so South Dakota,
breathe release,
let one whom,
you have never
in flesh seen,
see you through
the ten plagues,
to a promised
answer~land

long have I searched for my
flawless poem,
knowing it my be
my next one,
each a doorway
to the next

this one,
and the
one before,
never good enough,
keep the essay going,
in fourth gear

so South Dakota,
in hot springs,
salve and be saved,
rapid city breaths exhaled,
in Jerusalem,
see the deal sealed

breathe release,
read out loud,
for hereby,
and nearby,
your voice must join me,
in this semi-silent
collaboration to make
this solo poem
into a
partnered painting
all yours,
your very own

can't you believe,
the mere question
you posing,
within,
the answer,
reposing...

The creation act,
frailties fraught,
what we design,
never good enough

but we paint on,
for the paint,
when eyes embraced,
says
a piece of my grief
herein encapsulated,
and so on and on,
to the next,
thus it's entirety
lessened,
one step closer
to diminished

you, grief painter
right hand cunning,
me, grief writer,
lest we forget,
through our art,
that even if our
words fail
our tongue, the ears,
to comprehend,
to communicate,
to convey,

but the eyes
they,
cannot be denied,
eyes,
that have gazed upon your
painting prayer

Of course you heal,
tikun (repair) of your world,
in every brush stroke,
you answer,
sufficient,
dayenu,

and then you
Restless Painter,
ask again, and answer,
af p'aam lo maspiq,
never good enough,

and I say it once more:

can't you believe
the mere question
posing,
within, the answer,
reposing...


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Two small paintings are part of a number
I did as an assignment
when I went to stay with my son.
One of his OCD symptoms  
is seen in a difficulty to get through doorways.  

When I showed the collection of work
to my teacher she said  
"do you realize you are painting open doorways?"  
And indeed, the motif was there
whether abstract or realist.  

Can one heal a child through paintings?
Or one's grief at being helpless to change things?"
A.J. Burkey

I am not human with the frailties of what every
sentiment falls on my thoughts that I pen in black
but in a colour blind effect is written in red.

As is the pain that I etch-a sketch in wobbly lines
showing that drawing my emotions isn't as perfect
as I want it to be.

But still I draw a picture with words in how I'm feeling
beneath every collage of moulded words. But like paper
I split between the effect of what happens midway.

Read upon what I spend on every word and see that
I'm just as you human, humanity in frailties that spill
in black, but bleed my emotions on every single new page.

The silence of the night is enticing,
A cold chill is blowing from the north.
Walking barefoot under the moonlight,
I look up at the sky and think of you.

I light my cigarette and blow out the smoke,
The smell of rain is still fresh in the air.
Walking down the empty street,
I see your reflection in every window.

The night closes in and the darkness deepens,
As the nagging doubts and frailties of the mind begin to appear.
The clouds above twist and grow with anger,
The moon hides behind the impending storm.

The smell of your hair, the delicate smile on your face,
The softness of your lips, the warmth of your embrace.
These are the shadows that haunt me,
These are the demons that persecute me.

I take another swig of whiskey to try and clear my head,
To warm my body and steel my thoughts.
The demons taunt me with memories sharpened like knives,
Reminding me of hurts so deep that left scars which will not fade.

However, as I lie on the moist grass and take another drag,
I see your image shimmer across the field.
I remember falling asleep in your arms,
And waking up to the sound of your voice.

Suddenly, the sea of clouds disperses,
And I see a great moon shine bright and proud;
The shadows and demons flee at the incoming light.
And with the last puff of my cigarette I see,
Your image fade away into the night,
Leaving me behind with a smile and the taste of home.

I think I love you so much because
of your frailties and sometimes regrets.
Perfection in people is boring
And this you are not.

Never to have reached up and failed
Never to have fallen stumbling
only into one of  life's trap's.
Set there for us to learn a lesson.

You are unlike them,
the virtuous and untested.
You are completely immersed,
In the revelation of life's possibilities.
And life has revealed its beauty to you.
And now you share it with me.

Love's burning desire**

Life passes by much too quickly. More often than not, we lack an appreciation for the true value of time. Almost like in the blink of an eye another day has past. Then, another week. Then, another month. Then, another year. When we finally come to our senses reality starts to settle in. We are now left with that ever recurring question of, where has the time gone? Ergo, why not come to this appreciation for life while we are still young. At a time, perhaps, when we still have most of our basic faculties intact and an ability to use them more beneficially and productively while "age" is still somewhat on our side.

Below is a poem I wrote in an attempt to get this point across in a more creative way. Here we can see the development of that passing time. Here we see the changes time necessarily impacts on us. The message is clear, don't let human frailties and shortcomings from stopping you from enjoying, accomplishing, living, experiencing, etc. Don't let things like fear, laziness, depression, unhappiness, or anything similar restrict you from appreciating everything that life has to offer and for you to experience. So mush exists in this our beautiful world. So much awaits us to experience and to grow. Why squander away that precious time that so often steals away everything we have from right under our noses. The real tragedy is when we finally see how precious time is. We see why it is thus so precious. It CANNOT be replaced. Appreciate Life! Enjoy Life! Don't even stop to turn around.


The sun will shine, and the clouds will rain
these winds will blow, and love will yet feign
the eye will see, and the heart will crave
the body will sin, and sin will enslave

The baby will crawl, and the boy will walk
the man will run, and love will soon talk
love's burning desire, but a fleeting fire
age overcomes, desires quickly retire

The old man now stooped over
memories have but faded away
that life once full of living, alas
sitting in solitude, nothing but decay

So in youth, don't ever miss the chance
never stop dreaming, a time for romance
the days are shadows, years will soon disappear
don't miss these opportunities when you're young
just because of this word called fear

I wish I could tell you;
everything
I've been keeping inside.
How I want to blame you,
how that Halloween was a thorn in my side.
How when I think of you,
I grit my teeth.
How you need to be in a hospital.

I wish I could tell you;
everything
I've kept and all the lies.
How I never loved you,
how that companionship was just another
dip in my stride.
How when I see your name,
I wish it was on a clipboard;
at the foot of your bed again,
sitting guard-style as you made small talk.
How my sketchbook filled itself as I
stayed by your side.

How of all the people you've abandoned,
I'm the least of all the snide remarks,
the least of all the cries for attention.
How when I think best friend,
I think pull the trigger.

How when you mention all the things you've
"done for me" to get me to overlook your insecurity,
to get me to reassess the frailties I know are simply
ingrained in you...
What passes through my mind are not what I owe you,
but what I've done for you,
and all the midnight phone calls that saved your life.

How when you tried to make us "even",
I cried.
How when you brush aside my concerns,
I wallow that you've let me down.

You're unreliable and I've known it from the start,
that you were weak and lazy, like me.
How your conscience crumbles under the weight of
a simple phrase.

I always had hope but it fades every time you tell me
that I should talk to you, that I must not like you because I don't.

Steady, I am. Like a plant whose roots are drinking all the wrong things,
but going nowhere.
Locale has never been my issue. I wander not far,
I walk on my own two feet.
I am always where I am.

Afraid, and alone, and aside,
a thorn in my side.
a dip in my stride.

I know that you are the one that owes,
and I'd be happy to overlook it.
But I've given you
chances
chances
chances
to overcome what I know you're capable of,
to become what I know you're capable of.
I've given you
smiles
times
graces
to breathe life into the dream sitting straight ahead.

But your blind eyes sway you,
every time.
You're not sublime, never feeling just 'fine'.

I wish I could tell you
all those times we spent side by side
before you cast me aside
before the dip in my stride
before the tides tore us apart;

best friends means you get what you deserve
best friends means