"The iniquity of the fathers upon the children."


O the rose of keenest thorn!
One hidden summer morn
Under the rose I was born.

I do not guess his name
Who wrought my Mother's shame,
And gave me life forlorn,
But my Mother, Mother, Mother,
I know her from all other.
My Mother pale and mild,
Fair as ever was seen,
She was but scarce sixteen,
Little more than a child,
When I was born
To work her scorn.
With secret bitter throes,
In a passion of secret woes,
She bore me under the rose.

One who my Mother nursed
Took me from the first:--
"O nurse, let me look upon
This babe that cost so dear;
To-morrow she will be gone:
Other mothers may keep
Their babes awake and asleep,
But I must not keep her here."--
Whether I know or guess,
I know this not the less.

So I was sent away
That none might spy the truth:
And my childhood waxed to youth
And I left off childish play.
I never cared to play
With the village boys and girls;
And I think they thought me proud,
I found so little to say
And kept so from the crowd:
But I had the longest curls,
And I had the largest eyes,
And my teeth were small like pearls;
The girls might flout and scout me,
But the boys would hang about me
In sheepish mooning wise.

Our one-street village stood
A long mile from the town,
A mile of windy down
And bleak one-sided wood,
With not a single house.
Our town itself was small,
With just the common shops,
And throve in its small way.
Our neighboring gentry reared
The good old-fashioned crops,
And made old-fashioned boasts
Of what John Bull would do
If Frenchman Frog appeared,
And drank old-fashioned toasts,
And made old-fashioned bows
To my Lady at the Hall.

My Lady at the Hall
Is grander than they all:
Hers is the oldest name
In all the neighborhood;
But the race must die with her
Though she's a lofty dame,
For she's unmarried still.
Poor people say she's good
And has an open hand
As any in the land,
And she's the comforter
Of many sick and sad;
My nurse once said to me
That everything she had
Came of my Lady's bounty:
"Though she's greatest in the county
She's humble to the poor,
No beggar seeks her door
But finds help presently.
I pray both night and day
For her, and you must pray:
But she'll never feel distress
If needy folk can bless."
I was a little maid
When here we came to live
From somewhere by the sea.
Men spoke a foreign tongue
There where we used to be
When I was merry and young,
Too young to feel afraid;
The fisher-folk would give
A kind strange word to me,
There by the foreign sea:
I don't know where it was,
But I remember still
Our cottage on a hill,
And fields of flowering grass
On that fair foreign shore.

I liked my old home best,
But this was pleasant too:
So here we made our nest
And here I grew.
And now and then my Lady
In riding past our door
Would nod to nurse and speak,
Or stoop and pat my cheek;
And I was always ready
To hold the field-gate wide
For my Lady to go through;
My Lady in her veil
So seldom put aside,
My Lady grave and pale.

I often sat to wonder
Who might my parents be,
For I knew of something under
My simple-seeming state.
Nurse never talked to me
Of mother or of father,
But watched me early and late
With kind suspicious cares:
Or not suspicious, rather
Anxious, as if she knew
Some secret I might gather
And smart for unawares.
Thus I grew.

But Nurse waxed old and gray,
Bent and weak with years.
There came a certain day
That she lay upon her bed
Shaking her palsied head,
With words she gasped to say
Which had to stay unsaid.
Then with a jerking hand
Held out so piteously
She gave a ring to me
Of gold wrought curiously,
A ring which she had worn
Since the day that I was born,
She once had said to me:
I slipped it on my finger;
Her eyes were keen to linger
On my hand that slipped it on;
Then she sighed one rattling sigh
And stared on with sightless eye:--
The one who loved me was gone.

How long I stayed alone
With the corpse I never knew,
For I fainted dead as stone:
When I came to life once more
I was down upon the floor,
With neighbors making ado
To bring me back to life.
I heard the sexton's wife
Say: "Up, my lad, and run
To tell it at the Hall;
She was my Lady's nurse,
And done can't be undone.
I'll watch by this poor lamb.
I guess my Lady's purse
Is always open to such:
I'd run up on my crutch
A ******* as I am,"
(For cramps had vexed her much,)
"Rather than this dear heart
Lack one to take her part."

For days, day after day,
On my weary bed I lay,
Wishing the time would pass;
O, so wishing that I was
Likely to pass away:
For the one friend whom I knew
Was dead, I knew no other,
Neither father nor mother;
And I, what should I do?

One day the sexton's wife
Said: "Rouse yourself, my dear:
My Lady has driven down
From the Hall into the town,
And we think she's coming here.
Cheer up, for life is life."

But I would not look or speak,
Would not cheer up at all.
My tears were like to fall,
So I turned round to the wall
And hid my hollow cheek,
Making as if I slept,
As silent as a stone,
And no one knew I wept.
What was my Lady to me,
The grand lady from the Hall?
She might come, or stay away,
I was sick at heart that day:
The whole world seemed to be
Nothing, just nothing to me,
For aught that I could see.

Yet I listened where I lay:
A bustle came below,
A clear voice said: "I know;
I will see her first alone,
It may be less of a shock
If she's so weak to-day":--
A light hand turned the lock,
A light step crossed the floor,
One sat beside my bed:
But never a word she said.

For me, my shyness grew
Each moment more and more:
So I said never a word
And neither looked nor stirred;
I think she must have heard
My heart go pit-a-pat:
Thus I lay, my Lady sat,
More than a mortal hour
(I counted one and two
By the house-clock while I lay):
I seemed to have no power
To think of a thing to say,
Or do what I ought to do,
Or rouse myself to a choice.

At last she said: "Margaret,
Won't you even look at me?"
A something in her voice
Forced my tears to fall at last,
Forced sobs from me thick and fast;
Something not of the past,
Yet stirring memory;
A something new, and yet
Not new, too sweet to last,
Which I never can forget.

I turned and stared at her:
Her cheek showed hollow-pale;
Her hair like mine was fair,
A wonderful fall of hair
That screened her like a veil;
But her height was statelier,
Her eyes had depth more deep:
I think they must have had
Always a something sad,
Unless they were asleep.

While I stared, my Lady took
My hand in her spare hand,
Jewelled and soft and grand,
And looked with a long long look
Of hunger in my face;
As if she tried to trace
Features she ought to know,
And half hoped, half feared, to find.
Whatever was in her mind
She heaved a sigh at last,
And began to talk to me.
"Your nurse was my dear nurse,
And her nursling's dear," said she:
"No one told me a word
Of her getting worse and worse,
Till her poor life was past"
(Here my Lady's tears dropped fast):
"I might have been with her,
I might have promised and heard,
But she had no comforter.
She might have told me much
Which now I shall never know,
Never, never shall know."
She sat by me sobbing so,
And seemed so woe-begone,
That I laid one hand upon
Hers with a timid touch,
Scarce thinking what I did,
Not knowing what to say:
That moment her face was hid
In the pillow close by mine,
Her arm was flung over me,
She hugged me, sobbing so
As if her heart would break,
And kissed me where I lay.

After this she often came
To bring me fruit or wine,
Or sometimes hothouse flowers.
And at nights I lay awake
Often and often thinking
What to do for her sake.
Wet or dry it was the same:
She would come in at all hours,
Set me eating and drinking,
And say I must grow strong;
At last the day seemed long
And home seemed scarcely home
If she did not come.

Well, I grew strong again:
In time of primroses
I went to pluck them in the lane;
In time of nestling birds
I heard them chirping round the house;
And all the herds
Were out at grass when I grew strong,
And days were waxen long,
And there was work for bees
Among the May-bush boughs,
And I had shot up tall,
And life felt after all
Pleasant, and not so long
When I grew strong.

I was going to the Hall
To be my Lady's maid:
"Her little friend," she said to me,
"Almost her child,"
She said and smiled,
Sighing painfully;
Blushing, with a second flush,
As if she blushed to blush.

Friend, servant, child: just this
My standing at the Hall;
The other servants call me "Miss,"
My Lady calls me "Margaret,"
With her clear voice musical.
She never chides when I forget
This or that; she never chides.
Except when people come to stay
(And that's not often) at the Hall,
I sit with her all day
And ride out when she rides.
She sings to me and makes me sing;
Sometimes I read to her,
Sometimes we merely sit and talk.
She noticed once my ring
And made me tell its history:
That evening in our garden walk
She said she should infer
The ring had been my father's first,
Then my mother's, given for me
To the nurse who nursed
My mother in her misery,
That so quite certainly
Some one might know me, who--
Then she was silent, and I too.

I hate when people come:
The women speak and stare
And mean to be so civil.
This one will stroke my hair,
That one will pat my cheek
And praise my Lady's kindness,
Expecting me to speak;
I like the proud ones best
Who sit as struck with blindness,
As if I wasn't there.
But if any gentleman
Is staying at the Hall
(Though few come prying here),
My Lady seems to fear
Some downright dreadful evil,
And makes me keep my room
As closely as she can:
So I hate when people come,
It is so troublesome.
In spite of all her care,
Sometimes to keep alive
I sometimes do contrive
To get out in the grounds
For a whiff of wholesome air,
Under the rose you know:
It's charming to break bounds,
Stolen waters are sweet,
And what's the good of feet
If for days they mustn't go?
Give me a longer tether,
Or I may break from it.

Now I have eyes and ears
And just some little wit:
"Almost my lady's child";
I recollect she smiled,
Sighed and blushed together;
Then her story of the ring
Sounds not improbable,
She told it me so well
It seemed the actual thing:--
O keep your counsel close,
But I guess under the rose,
In long past summer weather
When the world was blossoming,
And the rose upon its thorn:
I guess not who he was
Flawed honor like a glass
And made my life forlorn;
But my Mother, Mother, Mother,
O, I know her from all other.

My Lady, you might trust
Your daughter with your fame.
Trust me, I would not shame
Our honorable name,
For I have noble blood
Though I was bred in dust
And brought up in the mud.
I will not press my claim,
Just leave me where you will:
But you might trust your daughter,
For blood is thicker than water
And you're my mother still.

So my Lady holds her own
With condescending grace,
And fills her lofty place
With an untroubled face
As a queen may fill a throne.
While I could hint a tale
(But then I am her child)
Would make her quail;
Would set her in the dust,
Lorn with no comforter,
Her glorious hair defiled
And ashes on her cheek:
The decent world would ******
Its finger out at her,
Not much displeased I think
To make a nine days' stir;
The decent world would sink
Its voice to speak of her.

Now this is what I mean
To do, no more, no less:
Never to speak, or show
Bare sign of what I know.
Let the blot pass unseen;
Yea, let her never guess
I hold the tangled clew
She huddles out of view.
Friend, servant, almost child,
So be it and nothing more
On this side of the grave.
Mother, in Paradise,
You'll see with clearer eyes;
Perhaps in this world even
When you are like to die
And face to face with Heaven
You'll drop for once the lie:
But you must drop the mask, not I.

My Lady promises
Two hundred pounds with me
Whenever I may wed
A man she can approve:
And since besides her bounty
I'm fairest in the county
(For so I've heard it said,
Though I don't vouch for this),
Her promised pounds may move
Some honest man to see
My virtues and my beauties;
Perhaps the rising grazier,
Or temperance publican,
May claim my wifely duties.
Meanwhile I wait their leisure
And grace-bestowing pleasure,
I wait the happy man;
But if I hold my head
And pitch my expectations
Just higher than their level,
They must fall back on patience:
I may not mean to wed,
Yet I'll be civil.

Now sometimes in a dream
My heart goes out of me
To build and scheme,
Till I sob after things that seem
So pleasant in a dream:
A home such as I see
My blessed neighbors live in
With father and with mother,
All proud of one another,
Named by one common name,
From baby in the bud
To full-blown workman father;
It's little short of Heaven.
I'd give my gentle blood
To wash my special shame
And drown my private grudge;
I'd toil and moil much rather
The dingiest cottage drudge
Whose mother need not blush,
Than live here like a lady
And see my Mother flush
And hear her voice unsteady
Sometimes, yet never dare
Ask to share her care.

Of course the servants sneer
Behind my back at me;
Of course the village girls,
Who envy me my curls
And gowns and idleness,
Take comfort in a jeer;
Of course the ladies guess
Just so much of my history
As points the emphatic stress
With which they laud my Lady;
The gentlemen who catch
A casual glimpse of me
And turn again to see,
Their valets on the watch
To speak a word with me,
All know and sting me wild;
Till I am almost ready
To wish that I were dead,
No faces more to see,
No more words to be said,
My Mother safe at last
Disburdened of her child,
And the past past.

"All equal before God,"--
Our Rector has it so,
And sundry sleepers nod:
It may be so; I know
All are not equal here,
And when the sleepers wake
They make a difference.
"All equal in the grave,"--
That shows an obvious sense:
Yet something which I crave
Not death itself brings near;
How should death half atone
For all my past; or make
The name I bear my own?

I love my dear old Nurse
Who loved me without gains;
I love my mistress even,
Friend, Mother, what you will:
But I could almost curse
My Father for his pains;
And sometimes at my prayer,
Kneeling in sight of Heaven,
I almost curse him still:
Why did he set his snare
To catch at unaware
My Mother's foolish youth;
Load me with shame that's hers,
And her with something worse,
A lifelong lie for truth?

I think my mind is fixed
On one point and made up:
To accept my lot unmixed;
Never to drug the cup
But drink it by myself.
I'll not be wooed for pelf;
I'll not blot out my shame
With any man's good name;
But nameless as I stand,
My hand is my own hand,
And nameless as I came
I go to the dark land.

"All equal in the grave,"--
I bide my time till then:
"All equal before God,"--
To-day I feel His rod,
To-morrow He may save:
            Amen.

Sin of self-love possesseth all mine eye,
And all my soul, and all my every part;
And for this sin there is no remedy,
It is so grounded inward in my heart.
Methinks no face so gracious is as mine,
No shape so true, no truth of such account;
And for my self mine own worth do define,
As I all other in all worths surmount.
But when my glass shows me myself indeed
Beated and chapped with tanned antiquity,
Mine own self-love quite contrary I read;
Self so self-loving were iniquity.
    ’Tis thee, myself, that for my self I praise,
    Painting my age with beauty of thy days.

fool-proof umbrella
covering protégé
adorning brilliance

no purple moments
folly forgotten
iniquity barred
fountain-pen spills
in lampblack Indian ink
when letting go
rose bush on fire
in the mountain
claims
rock-hard granite
heat melting
higher meeting..so fleeting

concluding well
deep
sans senses
catch scent
wrapped in sound
sudden arrival
rivers flow yet endless

such relief exquisite
still
not quite
fruition
not yet..

four leaves wait
count a quarter
at a time
yet fretless time
caught in veins
of
chlorophyll dreams

time to fill
maturation
to come..

to plant seeds
into blazing buds
just
not yet..



S T,  13 June  2013

Is there anything glorious about August the twelfth?
When people privileged with exceptional wealth
Think it their right, to blast the sky
And the birds that fly, ne'er so high.

Is there dignity to the flurry that follows?
To be first delivering corpses to fellows
And consorts, dining in fair London town
On the shot blasted flesh, fallen down ...

To British soil, the land of the free!
So free, to be trapped in iniquity,
In pursuit of what some think to be glorious
But surely Blake's heaven would be furious.

David Applin
2018

You may ask the question, "How can anyone really know 100% sure that they are going to heaven when they die?" The answer is found in the Scriptures. Here we will not look at what man has to say, but what God says in the Bible. Remember, if what man or religion teaches is contrary to God’s Word - God’s Word is always right over man’s word.

YOU CAN KNOW FOR SURE:
I Jn 5:12-13...
“He that hath the Son hath life; and he that hath not the Son of God hath not life. These things have I written unto you that believe on the name of the Son of God; that ye may know that ye have eternal life, and that ye may believe on the name of the Son of God.”

According to God’s Word one can know that he or she has eternal life. In order to have this settled one must realize Salvation is only through Christ.
SALVATION IS ONLY THROUGH JESUS CHRIST ALONE:

Acts 4:12...
“Neither is there salvation in any other: for there is none other name under heaven given among men, whereby we must be saved.”
John 14:6...
“Jesus saith unto him, I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me.”

Many have been taught salvation is either through church membership, baptism, good works, or taking the sacrament. Most religions teach living a good life is required for one’s salvation.


YOU CAN NOT WORK YOUR WAY TO HEAVEN:

Eph 2:8-9...
“For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God: Not of works, lest any man should boast.”...
Titus 3:5...
“Not by works of righteousness which we have done, but according to his mercy he saved us, by the washing of regeneration, and renewing of the Holy Ghost;”
Gal 2:16...
“Knowing that a man is not justified by the works of the law, but by the faith of Jesus Christ, even we have believed in Jesus Christ, that we might be justified by the faith of Christ, and not by the works of the law: for by the works of the law shall no flesh be justified.”
Gal 3:10-11...
“For as many as are of the works of the law are under the curse: for it is written, Cursed is every one that continueth not in all things which are written in the book of the law to do them. But that no man is justified by the law in the sight of God, it is evident: for, The just shall live by faith.”
Gal 3:24...
“Wherefore the law was our schoolmaster to bring us unto Christ, that we might be justified by faith.”
Rom 3:20...
" Therefore by the deeds of the law there shall no flesh be justified in his sight: for by the law is the knowledge of sin".Understand, one can be sincere about their beliefs yet wrong. If you were sick and someone gave you poison to take instead of a medicine remedy; it doesn’t matter how sincere you are about taking what you believe to be medicine - if it is poison, you are in trouble.
Prov 14:12...
“There is a way which seemeth right unto a man, but the end thereof are the ways of death.”

God’s Word makes it plain that the gift of salvation is only through Jesus and is by grace, not by doing good things.

According to the Scriptures, to once and for all settle in your heart that you are going to heaven.

THERE ARE A FEW THINGS THAT YOU MUST UNDERSTAND:


1. Why We Need a Saviour? WE ARE ALL SINNERS.

Rom 3:23...
"For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God;"
Rom 5:12...
"Wherefore, as by one man sin entered into the world, and death by sin; and so death passed upon all men, for that all have sinned:"
Rom 3:19...
"Now we know that what things soever the law saith, it saith to them who are under the law: that every mouth may be stopped, and all the world may become guilty before God."
James 2:10...
"For whosoever shall keep the whole law, and yet offend in one point, he is guilty of all."

Unless you admit you are a sinner; you will never see the real need for the Saviour. If we could get to heaven by our good works, why did Christ have to suffer such agony on the Cross?


2. If we die without Christ as our Saviour there is a penalty of eternal punishment in Hell.

Rev 21:8...
"But the fearful, and unbelieving, and the abominable, and murderers, and whoremongers, and sorcerers, and idolaters, and all liars, shall have their part in the lake which burneth with fire and brimstone: which is the second death."
Rev 20:14-15...
"And death and hell were cast into the lake of fire. This is the second death. And whosoever was not found written in the book of life was cast into the lake of fire."


3. Christ paid the penalty for our sin. We MUST receive Him as our personal Lord and Saviour.

Isa 53:6...
"All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and the LORD hath laid on him the iniquity of us all."
Gal 3:13...
"Christ hath redeemed us from the curse of the law, being made a curse for us: for it is written, Cursed is every one that hangeth on a tree:"
Rom 5:8...
"But God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us."
John 3:16...
"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.

4. Receive Christ as your Saviour.


In conclusion:
If you have already admitted you are a sinner and according to the Bible deserve to go to hell and if you believe with your heart that Christ died for your sins and arose from the grave the third day...
YOU MUST PERSONALLY BY FAITH RECEIVE CHRIST AS YOUR SAVIOUR!

Rom 10:9-109...
"That if thou shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and shalt believe in thine heart that God hath raised him from the dead, thou shalt be saved. For with the heart man believeth unto righteousness; and with the mouth confession is made unto salvation."

Right now after reading these Scriptures if you would simply bow your head and call upon the name of the Lord He will save you and give you eternal life. Remember, it is not just believing. Satan believes in God but that certainly doesn’t mean that he is going to heaven.

Rom 10:13...
"For whosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved."
John 1:12...
"But as many as received him, to them gave he power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe on his name:"

Your Salvation is your own personal choice now. You can either RECEIVE CHRIST or REJECT HIM. It is up to you. Salvation is determined by what you do with Christ.

If wanna say sinners prayer and be saved in Jesus especially since the way the world's going and prophecies are happening every which way , christ is calling his bride soon bride meaning the church. Wanna accept Jesus Christ as Lord an Savior also known as Yeshua ha'mashiach means- Jesus the Messiah in hebrew. Many don't know either the word Yeshua means salvation in hebrew amazingly. If want to accept christ simply bow your head pray these words close eyes go somewhere quiet bedroom! Or closet somewhere with peace and quiet.
Pray these words it's a small sinners prayer.

Close eyes
We pray to God Yahweh also called elohim or Jehovah is the name of God!
Close eyes
Say this-


Dear God in heaven, I come to you in the name of Jesus. I acknowledge to You that I am a sinner, and I am sorry for my sins and the life that I have lived; I need your forgiveness.

I believe that your only begotten Son Jesus Christ shed His precious blood on the cross at Calvary and died for my sins, and I am now willing to turn from my sin.

You said in Your Holy Word, Romans 10:9 that if we confess the Lord our God and believe in our hearts that God raised Jesus from the dead, we shall be saved.

Right now I confess Jesus as the Lord of my soul. With my heart, I believe that God raised Jesus from the dead. This very moment I accept Jesus Christ as my own personal Savior and according to His Word, right now I am saved.

Thank you Jesus for your unlimited grace which has saved me from my sins. I thank you Jesus that your grace never leads to license, but rather it always leads to repentance. Therefore Lord Jesus transform my life so that I may bring glory and honor to you alone and not to myself.

Thank you Jesus for dying for me and giving me eternal life.
In Jesus name I pray amen!!!!!

Read rest below asap;

1537

Candor—my tepid friend—
Come not to play with me—
The Myrrhs, and Mochas, of the Mind
Are its iniquity—

The flesh lusts daily against the Spirit
and the Spirit wars contrary to the flesh.
The opposing tenets of grace and iniquity
can never with each other… completely mesh.

For the redeemed sinners operate by grace,
while the practitioners of unrighteousness
prefer the dark, ungodly ways of wickedness
and will not inherit the Kingdom’s fullness.

Fleshly works are clearly evident: adultery,
fornication, idolatry, sorcery, uncleanness,
contentions, jealousies, ****** immorality,
hatred, envy, revelries and evil-mindedness.

Fruits of the sinful flesh are plain to see
and spirits cringe- at their being mentioned.
Can we expect others to pursue God’s holiness,
when people are upset- from being questioned?

For we live under God’s grace and not His Law;
His righteous wrath will be eventually revealed.
Acceptance of His gift of Salvation can insure…
that our lives will have been redeemed and sealed!
.
.
.
Author Notes:

Loosely based on:
Gal 5:16; Rom 1:18-32, 2:1-16

Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ

By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2013, All rights reserved.

Tik Tok, Tik Tok, no more time to talk, clear all the ways of your walk.
Your footsteps I cannot follow, so these words I will just swallow, to be deemed useless and heard no more.
Tick tock, tick tock, time is growing still, around us no more chill, except for that which lies cold and the heartbeat. No comfort, no seat, no rest for my feet.
Inside doesn't like dry in this has overtaken my very function bitterness becomes my friend in what looks like the end as my mind spending spends this bitterness turns to sin.
Tick tock, tick tock, now that I am like the world sick, sad, and greedy, how do I look now? Are you satisfied with my iniquity, outward worldly vocabulary, do you have what you need to judge me properly.
I bet you do. ( This is a poem that I wrote before I accepted Christ.)

You may ask the question, "How can anyone really know 100% sure that they are going to heaven when they die?" The answer is found in the Scriptures. Here we will not look at what man has to say, but what God says in the Bible. Remember, if what man or religion teaches is contrary to God’s Word - God’s Word is always right over man’s word.

YOU CAN KNOW FOR SURE:
I Jn 5:12-13...
“He that hath the Son hath life; and he that hath not the Son of God hath not life. These things have I written unto you that believe on the name of the Son of God; that ye may know that ye have eternal life, and that ye may believe on the name of the Son of God.”

According to God’s Word one can know that he or she has eternal life. In order to have this settled one must realize Salvation is only through Christ.
SALVATION IS ONLY THROUGH JESUS CHRIST ALONE:

Acts 4:12...
“Neither is there salvation in any other: for there is none other name under heaven given among men, whereby we must be saved.”
John 14:6...
“Jesus saith unto him, I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me.”

Many have been taught salvation is either through church membership, baptism, good works, or taking the sacrament. Most religions teach living a good life is required for one’s salvation.


YOU CAN NOT WORK YOUR WAY TO HEAVEN:

Eph 2:8-9...
“For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God: Not of works, lest any man should boast.”...
Titus 3:5...
“Not by works of righteousness which we have done, but according to his mercy he saved us, by the washing of regeneration, and renewing of the Holy Ghost;”
Gal 2:16...
“Knowing that a man is not justified by the works of the law, but by the faith of Jesus Christ, even we have believed in Jesus Christ, that we might be justified by the faith of Christ, and not by the works of the law: for by the works of the law shall no flesh be justified.”
Gal 3:10-11...
“For as many as are of the works of the law are under the curse: for it is written, Cursed is every one that continueth not in all things which are written in the book of the law to do them. But that no man is justified by the law in the sight of God, it is evident: for, The just shall live by faith.”Gal 3:24...
“Wherefore the law was our schoolmaster to bring us unto Christ, that we might be justified by faith.”
Rom 3:20...
" Therefore by the deeds of the law there shall no flesh be justified in his sight: for by the law is the knowledge of sin".Understand, one can be sincere about their beliefs yet wrong. If you were sick and someone gave you poison to take instead of a medicine remedy; it doesn’t matter how sincere you are about taking what you believe to be medicine - if it is poison, you are in trouble.
Prov 14:12...
“There is a way which seemeth right unto a man, but the end thereof are the ways of death.”

God’s Word makes it plain that the gift of salvation is only through Jesus and is by grace, not by doing good things.



According to the Scriptures, to once and for all settle in your heart that you are going to heaven.

THERE ARE A FEW THINGS THAT YOU MUST UNDERSTAND:


1. Why We Need a Saviour? WE ARE ALL SINNERS.

Rom 3:23...
"For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God;"
Rom 5:12...
"Wherefore, as by one man sin entered into the world, and death by sin; and so death passed upon all men, for that all have sinned:"
Rom 3:19...
"Now we know that what things soever the law saith, it saith to them who are under the law: that every mouth may be stopped, and all the world may become guilty before God."
James 2:10...
"For whosoever shall keep the whole law, and yet offend in one point, he is guilty of all."
Unless you admit you are a sinner; you will never see the real need for the Saviour. If we could get to heaven by our good works, why did Christ have to suffer such agony on the Cross?


2. If we die without Christ as our Saviour there is a penalty of eternal punishment in Hell.

Rev 21:8...
"But the fearful, and unbelieving, and the abominable, and murderers, and whoremongers, and sorcerers, and idolaters, and all liars, shall have their part in the lake which burneth with fire and brimstone: which is the second death."
Rev 20:14-15...
"And death and hell were cast into the lake of fire. This is the second death. And whosoever was not found written in the book of life was cast into the lake of fire."


3. Christ paid the penalty for our sin. We MUST receive Him as our personal Lord and Saviour.

Isa 53:6...
"All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and the LORD hath laid on him the iniquity of us all."
Gal 3:13...
"Christ hath redeemed us from the curse of the law, being made a curse for us: for it is written, Cursed is every one that hangeth on a tree:"
Rom 5:8...
"But God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us."
John 3:16...
"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.


Rest below read .

An introvert, I am not
I am just alone
Unattached from iniquity
Peace is all I seek
Reflections from adversities
I evaluate with a hardened stance
Nonspecific abandonments
I negotiate with my floodlight
In mental conflict with my soul
I split atoms and debate
Intuition overwhelms me
yet I accept all things out of my control
Like Wonder’s vision and spiritual being
I remain passionate while on my throne

There is something about her
that's not good
for letting go,
so I say this here
on a muggy winter night
as she lays on crags
in the wind,
pulling me closer
to those lovely halcyon stars
but a valkyrie of gin.

so I must say goodbye,
to this war machine of love,
I must lay my heart
back in it's proper place
against those soft cheeks of hers
where my lips were boarders
and my heart became wily.

I hate this letting go,
it'd be easier for us to hug,
searching lips buzzing
for the growing rose of the tongue,
I would rather
have things be easy,
and never have to
not see you go,
but whatever we had,
let its skeleton of love
grow old in the murk,
let its bones be recast
into something of worth,
let my heart reside easily
in the oilyness
of iniquity,
someday soon I'll meet another
and start this war machine
with its grandiose sacrifices,
and subliminal pains,
all over again.

So maybe this was your plan all along,
the great general
pushing the arteries around
like so many toy soldiers,
until the whole thing
was gone,
and there was nothing
to remember,
I really don't think so,
but maybe I'm wrong.

I hope you meet him
somewhere nice,
where you are warm
and flakes of yourself fall into
him like glaciers,
I hope he can become
the beast of love to break you down
again
and make you love him insanely
with only the best kinds of sin;
the kind that make you burn warmly
and feel young and wily again.

rebars rust splitting concrete at irons cost
grey dust falls away from exaggerated wires

urban decay promoted by grandstanding
youth atop another. marker pen names .
inspired rap crap anonymity shouts
I woz here ( to those in the know)

sterile pens these days not even sniffable.

brains over and out on wifi . WAN faces
from vitreous messages blinking out
hate and spite for structures. Scenes
are augmented hunts of ghouls.

next addicts in line: petting in play
gyms on street corners. Cartoon
wars have no conflict?

clouds of vape a new narcosis .
in stupor we watch them
swallowing grey bytes flaked
off the cable networks of yuff.

I walk alone contemplating the scenery of an abandoned castle
Beside the Forest of Whispers an amazing view am baffled
I contemplate the thought if I should walk inside or not
All the sudden I hear a voice in my head inviting me to come in
I gather all my courage and enter the castle
I stop briefly to look at the entrance of the castle itself
It has Two Giant Stone Cyclops statutes and a huge metal door
The scenery is captivating yet am a bit nervous to press on
I look everywhere but there is no one there and I get closer to the entrance...

Without warning I see the huge metal doors begin to slowly open
Lots of dust and smoke emanate from the ground as they slowly sway open
I think to myself (What's going on this is just weird) I hear the voice again...
"Come inside adventurer I have something for you" I carefully step inside the Abandoned Castle
Inside the Majestic Palace it's beautiful...I carefully examine everything insight
A Old Painting with a Young Man dressed in an 1800's Draco Tunic (Black & Red Colors)
A Gorgeous Staircase that looks like it has been recently cleaned and polished
Many pieces of Marble Art all over the Main Hall Room -The part of the Castle am in- and many doors up the staircase and where I recently occupy
I ask the voice "Who are you?" and it replies (The voice itself sounds a little rusty and hoarse a bit old in fact) "I am Aziel Count Of the Darkness the 3rd Prince of the Night, I have lived here in my Castle for 750 years" As I survey the Main Hall Room in the middle of the room above the stairs that lead to the second part of the Castle itself there hangs the painting I briefly looked at. It's a huge painting a beautiful masterpiece carefully detailed and crafted with a young man dressed in a handsome Draco Tunic. His long dark hair deep black eyes and the black and red garments his wearing truly make him stand out and make him look like a Count of the Night...I think to myself (Could this be him...Aziel?) and just as soon as that thought came to mind I heard the voice again..."Yes that is me Adventurer the one portrayed in that painting is me, now tell me may I have the pleasure of knowing your name?" then I swiftly reply "My name is Frank Deltoro" As I get closer to the painting ...
All at once five scarecrows come out of no where ...from various parts of the Castle I assume and they all get together and commence to form a shape...about 10 ft from me.

Then I realize the form it's human and there I stand in awe it's an Old brittle man shirtless with silver eyes his skin pale as chalk and his pants wore out and thorn down. I get closer and closer to him then am about 3 ft from him and he says "Stop right there...I want to request something from you my mortal friend." Then he proceeds to speak again "Hello Frank my name is Aziel Governale. I am one of the 3 princes of the Night. My 2 brothers Vladimir my Elder Brother and Uriel my younger in fact the youngest sibling of us 3 reside in different abandoned sites long forgotten by mankind. It's 1933 in England in the remote sites of the burned down village of Qwutzentok. It was 13 years ago that the Order Of the Silver Knights burned down the village due to their iniquity and blasphemy against the one true God Almighty. The village conducted dark rituals to try to revive the Lord of the Night my Father...Dracula, but their attempts where in vain and futile. I still command to some extent the power of the night but my powers have been weakened by the Order of the Silver Knights and their Holy Crusade to conquer and extinguish the Night forever. I have hid here for 700 years after a Silver Knight known as Joshua Villamont defeated me and I was cast into hell periodically until I was revived with a blood ritual from a woman known as Elizabetha a young mortal woman who had fell in love with me when I was a mortal man. (He pauses for a second) (I analyze him head to toe as he speaks but I am in bewilderment and tremendous fear.) -He begins to speak again-

"I want to extract revenge on the Order regain all my power and might as one of the princes of the Night and revive my dear Elizabetha. She was killed by a Silver Knight back in the year 1225. I had just become a Prince of the Night and shortly after the Order raided our family and killed me or so they thought in the process...my Father had about 12 years of being dead and my 2 other brothers where no where to be found. We had all been scattered by the Order. I had been a Vampire only for about 3 years and then I was defeated by the Order and cast into hell and she rescued me and saved me. We stayed together for a while but I was too weak to make her a vampire and then the Order raided me once more and killed her. Now I want her back and I want revenge...you understand?"

Deltoro: "Yes I understand. But why should I help you?"
Aziel: "Due to the fact you have some distrust and hatred in your heart towards the Order. You was denied to become one of them due to your visual impairment in your left eye you can only see blurs and part of your right hand it's movement is restricted due to your born defect you can't move 2 fingers from your right hand. To be exact those fingers are your index and your pinky finger."
Deltoro: -Stands there in complete awe and shock- "How how...ummm...how did you...know?"
Aziel: "Am a Count of Darkness I can read man's hearts. I control to some extent telepathy. I can read 97.5% of individuals. It's a perk you get for being a Count."
Deltoro: "Fine...you have swayed me I will help you. But wait why can't your brothers help you if you can telepathically talk to them both?"
Aziel: "Oh mere human. Vladimir is dead...he was extinguished by the Order. Uriel I do not know his whereabouts I know he isn't in England. Therefore am here alone practically...it just I finally got an opportunity to extract revenge so that's it's exactly what I plan to do."
Deltoro: "OK so what must I do?"
Aziel: -Thinks to himself for a minute- "Have you heard of the so called Goddess Of The Forest?"
Deltoro: "Oh yes I heard that myth before Nabyah The Goddess Of the Forest Of Whispers."
Aziel: "It's not a fairy tale you know she exists and she is in the heart of the forest itself. All you must do is convince her to give you some of her blood willingly and if she isn't cooperative you must take the blood from her anyway and bring it to me."
Deltoro: "But she must be a powerful deity am sure she is going to fight back if I try to do such a thing."
Aziel: "Well ...those are the risks you must take in order for me to grant you my reward."
Deltoro: "Very well challenge accepted. I'll depart now."

(And so Frank Deltoro departs swiftly towards the Forest)

KEY

Draco Tunic= A Robe worn by Counts back in the 1800's. It displays Dragon scales in them. Only the true Counts of the Night had real Dragon scales placed on them however.

The Order Of the Silver Knights= Founded in 1000 the first millennium by King Nathan Bulderaux III. It fights the powers of Darkness ever since it's formation. It became famous after defeating the High Lord Dracula King of Darkness and vanishing his soul into hell.



                                                                                                      ->TO BE CONTINUED...

He will tie the strings of the masks each day,
Waiting ‘til the set of suns to remove it from its grasp:
Tugging on skin. First, the heaviest of all,
Abhorring the world for granting him the greatest burden;
Infuriated for not gaining the choice of first breath.
Purity of immense emotion, coursing through newly opened lungs.
Second, the hungriest: Shoving the mask aside to consume life,
Delectable love filling tables, now made just to fill his stomach…
Only to fall to the ground, clutching himself at thus, no longer hungry.
Third, a mask stuck to his face and peeling skin with attempts to remove it;
Falling to his knees, he looks up,
Up to those above him, begging the skies for such a life- for such freedoms.
A wide smile forming beneath, teeth gleaming with a chuckle:
He simply wants what they have.
Fourth, the lies of all veils, God, why create such a mask?
He shall look across the room to eye the other, blood pounding in ears:
Pulsing, drumming, begging needing wanting standing to ask for just-
A dance? But he hides his soul beneath the mask and shall continue to the end.
The fifth, an arrogant fellow of such. His branch most sophisticated,
His tree the strongest but the sprouts below?:
Changing too much for his own approval, despite the brightness of their leaves,
For he was the one recognized by the sun.
Sixth, leather with a hollow beak scented with crimson carnations.
Folds and wrinkles, creaking bones soon to turn dust,
Why would he rise from his wooden chair? Rocking
Back, and forth, back, and forth and back and forth and back and forth and back and forth and back and forth-
Snap. Crack.
But he is not prepared, he is far from hopeful, the sand falling quickly.
He does not wish any longer to wear the last mask:
Number seven.
The previous six shatter and tumble to the ground, now mirrors in the soil.
He looks upon the shards, lungs gasping at the sight:
A man, yet not a man. A demon, yet far from such.
He hungers for the gift of first breath, for the love fed to him,
For the freedoms, for the dance, for the trees and for the petals.
He is not prepared to go,
For wasn’t it once said,
That hell is empty, and all the devils are here?
Perhaps the lenses in this one shall show him truth, or perhaps not.

Euryclea now went upstairs laughing to tell her mistress that her
dear husband had come home. Her aged knees became young again and
her feet were nimble for joy as she went up to her mistress and bent
over her head to speak to her. “Wake up Penelope, my dear child,”
she exclaimed, “and see with your own eyes something that you have
been wanting this long time past. Ulysses has at last indeed come home
again, and has killed the suitors who were giving so much trouble in
his house, eating up his estate and ill-treating his son.”
  “My good nurse,” answered Penelope, “you must be mad. The gods
sometimes send some very sensible people out of their minds, and
make foolish people become sensible. This is what they must have
been doing to you; for you always used to be a reasonable person.
Why should you thus mock me when I have trouble enough already-
talking such nonsense, and waking me up out of a sweet sleep that
had taken possession of my eyes and closed them? I have never slept so
soundly from the day my poor husband went to that city with the
ill-omened name. Go back again into the women’s room; if it had been
any one else, who had woke me up to bring me such absurd news I should
have sent her away with a severe scolding. As it is, your age shall
protect you.”
  “My dear child,” answered Euryclea, “I am not mocking you. It is
quite true as I tell you that Ulysses is come home again. He was the
stranger whom they all kept on treating so badly in the cloister.
Telemachus knew all the time that he was come back, but kept his
father’s secret that he might have his revenge on all these wicked
people.
  Then Penelope sprang up from her couch, threw her arms round
Euryclea, and wept for joy. “But my dear nurse,” said she, “explain
this to me; if he has really come home as you say, how did he manage
to overcome the wicked suitors single handed, seeing what a number
of them there always were?”
  “I was not there,” answered Euryclea, “and do not know; I only heard
them groaning while they were being killed. We sat crouching and
huddled up in a corner of the women’s room with the doors closed, till
your son came to fetch me because his father sent him. Then I found
Ulysses standing over the corpses that were lying on the ground all
round him, one on top of the other. You would have enjoyed it if you
could have seen him standing there all bespattered with blood and
filth, and looking just like a lion. But the corpses are now all piled
up in the gatehouse that is in the outer court, and Ulysses has lit
a great fire to purify the house with sulphur. He has sent me to
call you, so come with me that you may both be happy together after
all; for now at last the desire of your heart has been fulfilled; your
husband is come home to find both wife and son alive and well, and
to take his revenge in his own house on the suitors who behaved so
badly to him.”
  “‘My dear nurse,” said Penelope, “do not exult too confidently
over all this. You know how delighted every one would be to see
Ulysses come home—more particularly myself, and the son who has
been born to both of us; but what you tell me cannot be really true.
It is some god who is angry with the suitors for their great
wickedness, and has made an end of them; for they respected no man
in the whole world, neither rich nor poor, who came near them, who
came near them, and they have come to a bad end in consequence of
their iniquity. Ulysses is dead far away from the Achaean land; he
will never return home again.”
  Then nurse Euryclea said, “My child, what are you talking about? but
you were all hard of belief and have made up your mind that your
husband is never coming, although he is in the house and by his own
fire side at this very moment. Besides I can give you another proof;
when I was washing him I perceived the scar which the wild boar gave
him, and I wanted to tell you about it, but in his wisdom he would not
let me, and clapped his hands over my mouth; so come with me and I
will make this bargain with you—if I am deceiving you, you may have
me killed by the most cruel death you can think of.”
  “My dear nurse,” said Penelope, “however wise you may be you can
hardly fathom the counsels of the gods. Nevertheless, we will go in
search of my son, that I may see the corpses of the suitors, and the
man who has killed them.”
  On this she came down from her upper room, and while doing so she
considered whether she should keep at a distance from her husband
and question him, or whether she should at once go up to him and
embrace him. When, however, she had crossed the stone floor of the
cloister, she sat down opposite Ulysses by the fire, against the
wall at right angles [to that by which she had entered], while Ulysses
sat near one of the bearing-posts, looking upon the ground, and
waiting to see what his wife would say to him when she saw him. For
a long time she sat silent and as one lost in amazement. At one moment
she looked him full in the face, but then again directly, she was
misled by his shabby clothes and failed to recognize him, till
Telemachus began to reproach her and said:
  “Mother—but you are so hard that I cannot call you by such a
name—why do you keep away from my father in this way? Why do you
not sit by his side and begin talking to him and asking him questions?
No other woman could bear to keep away from her husband when he had
come back to her after twenty years of absence, and after having
gone through so much; but your heart always was as hard as a stone.”
  Penelope answered, “My son, I am so lost in astonishment that I
can find no words in which either to ask questions or to answer
them. I cannot even look him straight in the face. Still, if he really
is Ulysses come back to his own home again, we shall get to understand
one another better by and by, for there are tokens with which we two
are alone acquainted, and which are hidden from all others.”
  Ulysses smiled at this, and said to Telemachus, “Let your mother put
me to any proof she likes; she will make up her mind about it
presently. She rejects me for the moment and believes me to be
somebody else, because I am covered with dirt and have such bad
clothes on; let us, however, consider what we had better do next. When
one man has killed another, even though he was not one who would leave
many friends to take up his quarrel, the man who has killed him must
still say good bye to his friends and fly the country; whereas we have
been killing the stay of a whole town, and all the picked youth of
Ithaca. I would have you consider this matter.”
  “Look to it yourself, father,” answered Telemachus, “for they say
you are the wisest counsellor in the world, and that there is no other
mortal man who can compare with you. We will follow you with right
good will, nor shall you find us fail you in so far as our strength
holds out.”
  “I will say what I think will be best,” answered Ulysses. “First
wash and put your shirts on; tell the maids also to go to their own
room and dress; Phemius shall then strike up a dance tune on his lyre,
so that if people outside hear, or any of the neighbours, or some
one going along the street happens to notice it, they may think
there is a wedding in the house, and no rumours about the death of the
suitors will get about in the town, before we can escape to the
woods upon my own land. Once there, we will settle which of the
courses heaven vouchsafes us shall seem wisest.”
  Thus did he speak, and they did even as he had said. First they
washed and put their shirts on, while the women got ready. Then
Phemius took his lyre and set them all longing for sweet song and
stately dance. The house re-echoed with the sound of men and women
dancing, and the people outside said, “I suppose the queen has been
getting married at last. She ought to be ashamed of herself for not
continuing to protect her husband’s property until he comes home.”
  This was what they said, but they did not know what it was that
had been happening. The upper servant Eurynome washed and anointed
Ulysses in his own house and gave him a shirt and cloak, while Minerva
made him look taller and stronger than before; she also made the
hair grow thick on the top of his head, and flow down in curls like
hyacinth blossoms; she glorified him about the head and shoulders just
as a skilful workman who has studied art of all kinds under Vulcan
or Minerva—and his work is full of beauty—enriches a piece of silver
plate by gilding it. He came from the bath looking like one of the
immortals, and sat down opposite his wife on the seat he had left. “My
dear,” said he, “heaven has endowed you with a heart more unyielding
than woman ever yet had. No other woman could bear to keep away from
her husband when he had come back to her after twenty years of
absence, and after having gone through so much. But come, nurse, get a
bed ready for me; I will sleep alone, for this woman has a heart as
hard as iron.”
  “My dear,” answered Penelope, “I have no wish to set myself up,
nor to depreciate you; but I am not struck by your appearance, for I
very well remember what kind of a man you were when you set sail
from Ithaca. Nevertheless, Euryclea, take his bed outside the bed
chamber that he himself built. Bring the bed outside this room, and
put bedding upon it with fleeces, good coverlets, and blankets.”
  She said this to try him, but Ulysses was very angry and said,
“Wife, I am much displeased at what you have just been saying. Who has
been taking my bed from the place in which I left it? He must have
found it a hard task, no matter how skilled a workman he was, unless
some god came and helped him to shift it. There is no man living,
however strong and in his prime, who could move it from its place, for
it is a marvellous curiosity which I made with my very own hands.
There was a young olive growing within the precincts of the house,
in full vigour, and about as thick as a bearing-post. I built my
room round this with strong walls of stone and a roof to cover them,
and I made the doors strong and well-fitting. Then I cut off the top
boughs of the olive tree and left the stump standing. This I dressed
roughly from the root upwards and then worked with carpenter’s tools
well and skilfully, straightening my work by drawing a line on the
wood, and making it into a bed-prop. I then bored a hole down the
middle, and made it the centre-post of my bed, at which I worked
till I had finished it, inlaying it with gold and silver; after this I
stretched a hide of crimson leather from one side of it to the
other. So you see I know all about it, and I desire to learn whether
it is still there, or whether any one has been removing it by
cutting down the olive tree at its roots.”
  When she heard the sure proofs Ulysses now gave her, she fairly
broke down. She flew weeping to his side, flung her arms about his
neck, and kissed him. “Do not be angry with me Ulysses,” she cried,
“you, who are the wisest of mankind. We have suffered, both of us.
Heaven has denied us the happiness of spending our youth, and of
growing old, together; do not then be aggrieved or take it amiss
that I did not embrace you thus as soon as I saw you. I have been
shuddering all the time through fear that someone might come here
and deceive me with a lying story; for there are many very wicked
people going about. Jove’s daughter Helen would never have yielded
herself to a man from a foreign country, if she had known that the
sons of Achaeans would come after her and bring her back. Heaven put
it in her heart to do wrong, and she gave no thought to that sin,
which has been the source of all our sorrows. Now, however, that you
have convinced me by showing that you know all about our bed (which no
human being has ever seen but you and I and a single maid servant, the
daughter of Actor, who was given me by my father on my marriage, and
who keeps the doors of our room) hard of belief though I have been I
can mistrust no longer.”
  Then Ulysses in his turn melted, and wept as he clasped his dear and
faithful wife to his *****. As the sight of land is welcome to men who
are swimming towards the shore, when Neptune has wrecked their ship
with the fury of his winds and waves—a few alone reach the land,
and these, covered with brine, are thankful when they find
themselves on firm ground and out of danger—even so was her husband
welcome to her as she looked upon him, and she could not tear her
two fair arms from about his neck. Indeed they would have gone on
indulging their sorrow till rosy-fingered morn appeared, had not
Minerva determined otherwise, and held night back in the far west,
while she would not suffer Dawn to leave Oceanus, nor to yoke the
two steeds Lampus and Phaethon that bear her onward to break the day
upon mankind.
  At last, however, Ulysses said, “Wife, we have not yet reached the
end of our troubles. I have an unknown amount of toil still to
undergo. It is long and difficult, but I must go through with it,
for thus the shade of Teiresias prophesied concerning me, on the day
when I went down into Hades to ask about my return and that of my
companions. But now let us go to bed, that we may lie down and enjoy
the blessed boon of sleep.”
  “You shall go to bed as soon as you please,” replied Penelope,
“now that the gods have sent you home to your own good house and to
your country. But as heaven has put it in your mind to speak of it,
tell me about the task that lies before you. I shall have to hear
about it later, so it is better that I should be told at once.”
  “My dear,” answered Ulysses, “why should you press me to tell you?
Still, I will not conceal it from you, though you will not like BOOK
it. I do not like it myself, for Teiresias bade me travel far and
wide, carrying an oar, till I came to a country where the people
have never heard of the sea, and do not even mix salt with their food.
They know nothing about ships, nor oars that are as the wings of a
ship. He gave me this certain token which I will not hide from you. He
said that a wayfarer should meet me and ask me whether it was a
winnowing shovel that I had on my shoulder. On this, I was to fix my
oar in the ground and sacrifice a ram, a bull, and a boar to
Neptune; after which I was to go home and offer hecatombs to all the
gods in heaven, one after the other. As for myself, he said that death
should come to me from the sea, and that my life should ebb away
very gently when I was full of years and peace of mind, and my
people should bless me. All this, he said, should surely come to
pass.”
  And Penelope said, “If the gods are going to vouchsafe you a happier
time in your old age, you may hope then to have some respite from
misfortune.”
  Thus did they converse. Meanwhile Eurynome and the nurse took
torches and made the bed ready with soft coverlets; as soon as they
had laid them, the nurse went back into the house to go to her rest,
leaving the bed chamber woman Eurynome to show Ulysses and Penelope to
bed by torch light. When she had conducted them to their room she went
back, and they then came joyfully to the rites of their own old bed.
Telemachus, Philoetius, and the swineherd now left off dancing, and
made the women leave off also. They then laid themselves down to sleep
in the cloisters.
  When Ulysses and Penelope had had their fill of love they fell
talking with one another. She told him how much she had had to bear in
seeing the house filled with a crowd of wicked suitors who had
killed so many sheep and oxen on her account, and had drunk so many
casks of wine. Ulysses in his turn told her what he had suffered,
and how much trouble he had himself given to other people. He told her
everything, and she was so delighted to listen that she never went
to sleep till he had ended his whole story.
  He began with his victory over the Cicons, and how he thence reached
the fertile land of the Lotus-eaters. He told her all about the
Cyclops and how he had punished him for having so ruthlessly eaten his
brave comrades; how he then went on to ******, who received him
hospitably and furthered him on his way, but even so he

Oh, where the fair sun's light glistens the sand,
and the crystal waves of the sea so blue,
A paradise, caressed by nature grand,
my freedom, whom I have loved before you!

Its calm mountains of beauty incarnate
to a thousand fortunes I would relish!
Trysts with knowledge, ideas passionate,
with life, liberty, shall I not cherish?

But when you, oh darling of my vision,
are ****** to the hell of mundanity,
I cling to light that darkens my mission,
drowned in the abyss of iniquity!

Dreams, awakened and fulfilled at life's cost,
Memories, future of bliss, all is lost!

you call me *****
label me with broad brushstrokes
to paint onto the tableau of
my life a permanent stain where
you think i don't already see one.

the joke's on you.

trying to sully an already *****
contaminated crime scene
you won't wipe away fingerprints
seared into my skin
by those who also
saw me as that *****
were you disappointed when you saw
i already had ruby red marks
of hands wrapped around my neck?
because your flying shrapnel
accusations make me wonder
if you wish you had
gotten there first.

*****.

though the declaration stings
it certainly doesn't take me
by surprise when i
see that word stamped across my
forehead any time i look in the mirror
the syllable lives between my legs
and bleeds my secret shame
but i can't let you see me cry
i can't let you know it hurts
i can't let on that i would do
anything to purge this stain.

how could you understand
that i see my reflection in
***** in the toilet so i
shove my fingers farther down
my throat to recreate
that feeling of drowning
the gags that created me.

*****.

i want to blame that
violation
or even my erratic neurotransmitters
for morphing that flaxen-haired
nice girl
into the gnarled old
shame-riddled creature who sits
silently before you
being named *****.

but it was no one else who
led myself to this place
who traversed dimly-lit rooms
of iniquity
and was reborn as this contemptible creature
i take up my cross
my new mantle
my ******* scarlet letter.

you make me want
to run through the streets screaming
to stand on a street corner
preaching the gospel
of my culpability
have you heard the news
of our ****** executioner
the *****
the label feels even more
familiar than my own name.

i don't deserve a name.

take my clothing and dress me
in rags
strip me of my name and address me
only as *****
my life will now be only
passive acceptance and
those hands will explore my hidden places
though they are as unknown
as Disneyland on a gilded
summer day
but you can watch my searing shame
in the invisible white hot tears
only i know.

don't touch the *****
or you might fall victim to
my contagious disease
of optics and opinion
myself the lowest caste of society
relegated to empty halls
and abandoned structures
where i am abandoned as well.

you seem surprised that
the *****
would be fiercely independent
would be accustomed to
being alone
but who stays with a *****?
who takes her home to
meet the family
my independence was merely
an adaptation
Darwinian evolution ensuring
i would survive
to suffer another day
another trial
another sentence.

i understand now why
criminals are handed
multiple life sentences
because i'm punished daily
deservedly so
i would **** myself and if
i came back i would
cry out for more
more pain
more lashes
lay me bare and cut the skin from
my bones and call me *****
never stop
never let me forget
what is burned into the back of
my eyelids
a memory connected to
that word
my name.

i was given that name
by violating vandals
who spray painted my guilt
all over myself
and i can't escape that night
whenever i close my eyes and
pray i won't wake up
or pray i'll wake up in some other body
uncontaminated
a form that was never touched
virginal purity i wish i could
somehow repackage and
re-insert into my ****
to purify the orifice of all
those who branded me
*****
the mantle i took on myself
and made manifest.

You keep a garden
Some of your arrangements are to

Boast and show off
Delight in and keep for yourself
Alter with curiousity and growth


So you keep this beautiful garden
With every right intention

For leaves to sprout with confidence
For stems to hold firm and sturdy
For flowers to flaunt beauty and rich color


But do you see your precious garden
Is so riddled with weeds?

Weeds that expose iniquity
Weeds that slowly eat away
Weeds that make your Father frown!


Try as you may, in your garden**
To hide or otherwise ignore your ugly weeds

But your leaves, they will crinkle
Your stems will fall short and break
And your petals will surely wilt.

it dawned on me as i
brushed my teeth this
cold and frigid Sunday morning
that Christianity is predicated on
caricatures of morality and desiccated
imagery guilt-tripping and manipulating
the emotionally malleable with sycophantic
fantasies of sempiternal enmity
simmering infernally within dogmatic
magma melting mundane minds

we aren't made in the
image of the invisible
and the more i study
the face looking back
in the mirror i can't seem
to find a single similarity
between you and me

you've spent nearly fifty years
in service to a deity Nietzsche buried
half a century bent-kneed but
somehow i'm the one who
needs to try an open mind

in the face of such
deafening and deadly hypocrisy
is it any surprise i rose
in revolt against this
putrid apparatus of control

it's sad
you see
you fancy yourself an image
of the Nazarene but you're
so unlike your savior
a Sadducee dancing like a cobra
to the whimsical melodies of
snake-oil peddlers so

by all means
pray for me
the clouds can't hear
your desperate pleas this
galaxy is apathetic to our
finite and fragile existence
a momentary blip on the radar of
a fourteen billion year old universe

yet you possess the audacity
to believe an intergalactic being
instilled you with predestiny so
you can judge and condemn just
like the villains in
your beloved fairy tales

tell me the truth
do you even read
the lines of red bled
across the ancient pages
of your gospels or do
you just pretend that
Jesus said whatever
makes you happy

clearly you fancy yourself
the center of the universe but
as much as i hate to be
the bearer of bad news
the world revolves around the sun
not the Son of Man

i'd rather brave the depths of hell
than grovel before your
narcissistic King of Kings
i will never beg for
you to forgive me
i freed my mind and like
a canary in a coal mine i'm
insistently pointing towards the exit
so crucify me if you will
even you couldn't escape the irony

abandon your holy text for works
of art and philosophy and science
your scriptures are a tale
told by an idiot
full of sound and fury
signifying nothing

i will not relent in my
blasphemous semantics
nor repent for my perceived iniquity
your Christ is interned within
an unmarked grave outside Jerusalem  
and before long now we
will all join him
though admittedly not in
the fashion you'd imagined

there is no feast prepared
for my inevitable homecoming
so keep your ring
a golden band reminding
those who read the
anthologies of history of
property and slavery

i'll deny until i die
i won't bind my mind to
your tepid theology
i am not the prodigal son

1420

One Joy of so much anguish
Sweet nature has for me
I shun it as I do Despair
Or dear iniquity—
Why Birds, a Summer morning
Before the Quick of Day
Should stab my ravished spirit
With Dirks of Melody
Is part of an inquiry
That will receive reply
When Flesh and Spirit sunder
In Death’s Immediately—

This unresolved ambivalence

Contaminates a dubious sense

Of accents yet unknown

And of unbridled words yet unspoken

Where one becomes haunted by circumstances

Bequeathed to a virtuous iniquity of discourse

Whose fabrication of appearance binds deception

Yet transforms human misery by conscious and unconscious

Deployment of illusions were words are those energies

Given free rein and perform a fecundity of speech  

Defying as it does so semantic predictability

And brings dissolution to normality

The first born UNICORN

And when we die alone
We will reap what we have sown
and though we live like eternity
is promised to our destiny

mercy sky
mercy sky
mercy sky
mercy sky

it's not for all who know or see
but for those who ask for faith to believe

they are free
i don't own my iniquity
mercy sky
i'm not dead
i'm alive

mercy sky
mercy sky
mercy sky
mercy sky

Drawing upon the core of my being, I muster up the strength to survive.
Stepping into another plane of existence; one in which I have no capacity to resist toxicity; I am vulnerable.
A juggernaut lies at the end of the daylight hours; soft in temper and yet scourging in it’s pronouncements.
This is a being with no malicious intent; a sentinel guarding the sacred caliber of a spirit under divine instruction.

Darkness pervades in the form of light; I can sense a façade of purity within the confines of my bones.
This fortress that I have traversed into is infected with a murky haze looming just above the skies.
Escape is my only option; if I remain here it will be my demise.
When the juggernaut arrives, trepidation will electrify my soul; it will animate me.

Fear consumes me with every waking second I’m in it’s midst.
-This gargantuan being understands-
Empathy cannot save me however, once the utterances of ancient spirit inflict scathing wounds upon me in the name of humanity.
Attempting to rescue me from the tumult of the planet does not obscure the pain and heartache of compassionate words.

Wisdom lies within this walking tome; statue-esque maiden.
I have used my discernment as a bulwark; protection from wounds of sensitivity lies in detachment from myself.
I have come to realize that supplication does have a purpose.
-To plea with the remnants of a long forgotten world-

I am overwhelmed with euphoria when I realize that my fears have been nothing but stymie.
Fleeting in nature; they whispered to me of my incapacity to reach the heart of a relic growing wiser by the minute.
There is no judgment to be passed and I have been emancipated from the shackles of a foreshadowing past.
It leads to my genesis; the day when I shall be lifted up past all my iniquity.

Until that day, I await the metamorphosis of an ailing planet.
The Juggernaut does have a purpose.
This maiden shall be a beacon amongst the tumult of the seasons.
I shall look to her as a guide and honesty is what shall pervade from her lips.

In trueness she shall bestow her utterances upon me.
Like the sweetest honey, her words will befall my eardrums.
Internalization spurs a chemical reaction within me.
I am changing.

I have been enveloped by blinding rays of light.
The darkness is no match for the spiritual sinew that I possess.
I am growing by the second… I am growing prayer by prayer.
-Amen-

By Iridescently Efflorescent

Drawing upon the core of my being, I muster up the strength to survive.
Stepping into another plane of existence; one in which I have no capacity to resist toxicity; I am vulnerable.
A juggernaut lies at the end of the daylight hours; soft in temper and yet scourging in it’s pronouncements.
This is a being with no malicious intent; a sentinel guarding the sacred caliber of a spirit under divine instruction.

Darkness pervades in the form of light; I can sense a façade of purity within the confines of my bones.
This fortress that I have traversed into is infected with a murky haze looming just above the skies.
Escape is my only option; if I remain here it will be my demise.
When the juggernaut arrives, trepidation will electrify my soul; it will animate me.

Fear consumes me with every waking second I’m in it’s midst.
-This gargantuan being understands-
Empathy cannot save me however, once the utterances of ancient spirit inflict scathing wounds upon me in the name of humanity.
Attempting to rescue me from the tumult of the planet does not obscure the pain and heartache of compassionate words.

Wisdom lies within this walking tome; statue-esque maiden.
I have used my discernment as a bulwark; protection from wounds of sensitivity lies in detachment from myself.
I have come to realize that supplication does have a purpose.
-To plea with the remnants of a long forgotten world-

I am overwhelmed with euphoria when I realize that my fears have been nothing but stymie.
Fleeting in nature; they whispered to me of my incapacity to reach the heart of a relic growing wiser by the minute.
There is no judgment to be passed and I have been emancipated from the shackles of a foreshadowing past.
It leads to my genesis; the day when I shall be lifted up past all my iniquity.

Until that day, I await the metamorphosis of an ailing planet.
The Juggernaut does have a purpose.
This maiden shall be a beacon amongst the tumult of the seasons.
I shall look to her as a guide and honesty is what shall pervade from her lips.

In trueness she shall bestow her utterances upon me.
Like the sweetest honey, her words will befall my eardrums.
Internalization spurs a chemical reaction within me.
I am changing.

I have been enveloped by blinding rays of light.
The darkness is no match for the spiritual sinew that I possess.
I am growing by the second… I am growing prayer by prayer.
-Amen-

By Iridescently Efflorescent

These politicians aren't even people,
They're machines fueled by money,
Whose conquests relentlessly propel humanity,
Ever nearer to the brink of its demise,
While a lucky few at the very top
Rake in unfathomable fortunes, and
Consolidate their power at the expense
Of those common men and women,
Who strive only to build themselves
Honest and virtuous lives.

We are always told
That crime doesn't pay, but
On an unbiased inspection of
The world to which these forces
Have given birth, it becomes
More and more apparent
With each passing day,
That not only does crime pay,

But that it is the linchpin,
The essence and Truth; held in
The very highest esteem, and
The foundation, upon which,
Every structure of influence,
Constituting this wretched culture
In whose shadow we all stand,
Is built, and gains stability, but
Which crime pays? For whom?
And for what reasons?

Crash the economy through manipulation and deceit,
Get million dollar bonuses, and taxpayer bailouts.
Because your wealth is of prestige, and
You are the herald of progress,
Not to mention the fact that you
Own the judges and regulators, and
Your bank account is big enough
To bribe anyone you please, but

Resort to theft because,
Your family is hungry,
You go to jail or prison, and
Become a source of cheap labor,
To build products for the same ones
Whose greed crashed the economy,  
In the first place.

Then, when you get out;
You can be sure that the court costs
And legal fees will drive
You even deeper into debt, and
Compel you to offend again, but
It's not systemic; it's your fault
Because the poor are the wretched of the earth,
Who have earned their misfortune,
By means of their own iniquity, and
Thus undeserving of sympathy.

Meanwhile, from birth to death
From womb to tomb, and
From cradle to grave
The narrative is spoon fed, to
Every man, woman and child,
That hard work and
Honest aspiration,
Are the keys to success;
Study hard,
Get good grades,
Follow the rules,
Give it your all, and
Prosperity will become
Your dearest friend.

Yet, John Q. Public
Works for 40 years,
While Congress loots
His social security and pension, and 
Is ultimately  forced to choose between  
Buying this month's medicine, or
Paying this month's rent, once
He finally does retire

Sarah C. Student,
Follows the same path,
Only to live for subsequent decades
In the desert of a new serfdom,
Born of the iron will of finance capital,
Ending with little but a sense of
Betrayal and resentment
To show for all her efforts.

But on the flipside, just across town
Uncle Moneybags is tormented
By his painful choice between
A private jet, or new yacht, and
The prince of Crude Oil-istan,
Frets over which jewels will
Encrust the statue of his likeness,
Neither of them ever having
So much as broken a sweat
In the service of labor,

Now, tell me how it's sane that
We all take this for granted?
Perhaps the specter of democracy
Has led us down a blind alley, of
Illusory choice, counterpoised
Against the despotism of the past, but

Dig a bit deeper and it becomes obvious,
That one tyranny has merely replaced another
In the grander scheme, and so now,
Every 4 years, we march gallantly
To the polls and cast our ballots to vote
On whether we want to die of AIDS,
Or maybe cancer, instead; all while
Pundits stand at their podiums,
Regurgitating the same old worn out,
Platitudes hailing the triumph, of
Our serene and beneficent system, but
  
I wish someone could tell me,
Plainly and honestly:
When the 62 richest own as much
As the 3 billion poorest
Where does it stop?
What is the limit?
How much longer can it continue?
When do we finally decide
That enough is enough?

But
Love hung on a tree
Bruised body
blood flowed
Love died for my shame

Love didn't look at skin or color
Love didn't look at nationality,
legality
Love look at souls
and said we're brothers
Blood flowed
for every nation,
tribe and
tongue

But we've forgotten.

And now
the prophets of the streets
crying like Pentecostal priests
Beating chests and
stomping feet
Begging
those choosing blindness
to see

See our pain
Feel our fury
Our righteous anger
rages
against injustices you pretend can
remain unseen

You were born with this freedom
to close your eyes
We were born into a world
stabbing us from behind

So don't
bring your Bibles,
shove your tracts
drag us down aisles
You weren't here from the beginning
Fighting to break chains and
set captives free

"We have nothing to lose but our chains"

Our battle cry is freedom
justice,
equality for all
Jew and Gentile
Slave and free
Now the verses can read
Black and white
Upper class and lower
College educated, GED

You know, He's crying with us
shouting, marching
Beating chest and
stomping feet

Don't think you're bringing Jesus to us
He's already here,
on the streets
Prophecy of protests
Righteous rage against
iniquity
Jesus, the revolutionary

God with us
On the ground with us

Love doesn't look at
skin or color
And love hung from
a tree

It is our duty to fight for our freedom
Love has already won the day

And we have nothing to lose but our chains
We will fight to lose our chains

Temple Destruction Foretold
(Mark 13:1-9; Luke 21:5-9)

1And Jesus went out, and departed from the temple: and his disciples came to him for to shew him the buildings of the temple. 2And Jesus said unto them, See ye not all these things? verily I say unto you, There shall not be left here one stone upon another, that shall not be thrown down.

3And as he sat upon the mount of Olives, the disciples came unto him privately, saying, Tell us, when shall these things be? and what shall be the sign of thy coming, and of the end of the world?

4And Jesus answered and said unto them, Take heed that no man deceive you.

False Christs
5For many shall come in my name, saying, I am Christ; and shall deceive many. 6And ye shall hear of wars and rumours of wars: see that ye be not troubled: for all these things must come to pass, but the end is not yet. 7For nation shall rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom: and there shall be famines, and pestilences, and earthquakes, in divers places. 8All these are the beginning of sorrows.

Witnessing to All Nations
(Mark 13:10-13; Luke 21:10-19)

9Then shall they deliver you up to be afflicted, and shall **** you: and ye shall be hated of all nations for my name's sake. 10And then shall many be offended, and shall betray one another, and shall hate one another. 11And many false prophets shall rise, and shall deceive many. 12And because iniquity shall abound, the love of many shall wax cold. 13But he that shall endure unto the end, the same shall be saved. 14And this gospel of the kingdom shall be preached in all the world for a witness unto all nations; and then shall the end come.

The Abomination of Desolation
(Mark 13:14-23; Luke 21:20-24)

15When ye therefore shall see the abomination of desolation, spoken of by Daniel the prophet, stand in the holy place, (whoso readeth, let him understand:) 16Then let them which be in Judaea flee into the mountains: 17Let him which is on the housetop not come down to take any thing out of his house: 18Neither let him which is in the field return back to take his clothes. 19And woe unto them that are with child, and to them that give **** in those days! 20But pray ye that your flight be not in the winter, neither on the sabbath day: 21For then shall be great tribulation, such as was not since the beginning of the world to this time, no, nor ever shall be. 22And except those days should be shortened, there should no flesh be saved: but for the elect's sake those days shall be shortened. 23Then if any man shall say unto you, Lo, here is Christ, or there; believe it not. 24For there shall arise false Christs, and false prophets, and shall shew great signs and wonders; insomuch that, if it were possible, they shall deceive the very elect. 25Behold, I have told you before.

The Return of the Son of Man
(Mark 13:24-27; Luke 21:25-28)

26Wherefore if they shall say unto you, Behold, he is in the desert; go not forth: behold, he is in the secret chambers; believe it not. 27For as the lightning cometh out of the east, and shineth even unto the west; so shall also the coming of the Son of man be. 28For wheresoever the carcase is, there will the eagles be gathered together.

29Immediately after the tribulation of those days shall the sun be darkened, and the moon shall not give her light, and the stars shall fall from heaven, and the powers of the heavens shall be shaken: 30And then shall appear the sign of the Son of man in heaven: and then shall all the tribes of the earth mourn, and they shall see the Son of man coming in the clouds of heaven with power and great glory. 31And he shall send his angels with a great sound of a trumpet, and they shall gather together his elect from the four winds, from one end of heaven to the other.

The lesson of the Fig Tree
(Mark 13:28-31; Luke 21:29-33)

32Now learn a parable of the fig tree; When his branch is yet tender, and putteth forth leaves, ye know that summer is nigh: 33So likewise ye, when ye shall see all these things, know that it is near, even at the doors. 34Verily I say unto you, This generation shall not pass, till all these things be fulfilled. 35Heaven and earth shall pass away, but my words shall not pass away.

Be Ready at Any Hour
(Genesis 6:1-7; Mark 13:32-37; Luke 12:35-48)

36But of that day and hour knoweth no man, no, not the angels of heaven, but my Father only. 37But as the days of Noe were, so shall also the coming of the Son of man be. 38For as in the days that were before the flood they were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, until the day that Noe entered into the ark, 39And knew not until the flood came, and took them all away; so shall also the coming of the Son of man be. 40Then shall two be in the field; the one shall be taken, and the other left. 41Two women shall be grinding at the mill; the one shall be taken, and the other left.

42Watch therefore: for ye know not what hour your Lord doth come. 43But know this, that if the goodman of the house had known in what watch the thief would come, he would have watched, and would not have suffered his house to be broken up. 44Therefore be ye also ready: for in such an hour as ye think not the Son of man cometh.

45Who then is a faithful and wise servant, whom his lord hath made ruler over his household, to give them meat in due season? 46Blessed is that servant, whom his lord when he cometh shall find so doing. 47Verily I say unto you, That he shall make him ruler over all his goods. 48But and if that evil servant shall say in his heart, My lord delayeth his coming; 49And shall begin to smite his fellowservants, and to eat and drink with the drunken; 50The lord of that servant shall come in a day when he looketh not for him, and in an hour that he is not aware of, 51And shall cut him asunder, and appoint him his portion with the hypocrites: there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth.

Isaiah 52:14 As many were astonied at Thee His visage was marred more than any man, and His form more than the sons of men.

Isaiah 53:2 For He shall grow up before Him as a tender plant and as a root out of dry ground; He hath no form nor comeliness and when we shall see Him there is no beauty that we should desire Him.
3 He is despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief, and we hid as it were our faces from Him; He was despised and we esteemed Him not.
4 Surely He hath borne our griefs and carried our sorrows; yet we did esteem Him stricken, smitten of God and afflicted.
5 But He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for iniquities; the chastisement of our peace was upon Him; and with His stripes we are healed.
6 All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way and the Lord hath laid on Him the iniquity of us all.
7 He was oppressed and He was afflicted, yet He opened not His mouth; He is brought as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before his shearers is dumb so He opened not His mouth.