1: The Greatest Insurance Policy Ever!
Lord, You are my personal insurance plan.
Don't let Yourself out of this contract.
Extricate me from all my troubles with your superb mastery.
2: Flick your wonderfully sharp ears in my direction,
Get me out of this quagmire ASAP;
Be my total fall-back blueprint,
My absolutely secure fall-back scheme.
3: Yes, You are my complete, rock-solid defense.
That being the case, and so that You are recognised by everyone around me, direct my footsteps and show me the way.
4: You know about that trap they hid for me - so get me out of it fast. In you is my surprisingly sprung rebound.
5: I am only too happy to fall untterly into Your hands, body, mind and spirit
Your indomitable truth has freed me over and over.
6: I hate the deference given to fool's game icons when I can trust in You.
7: How ecstatic I am dancing here in your compassion, for you are intimately concerned with my problems, and my very soul is safe in Your hands when I'm struggling.
8: Never once have you let the enemy take over - It's always surprising how you extract me from their schemes.
9: And here I am again, Lord, in big trouble. Don't know if I've got any tears left for this poor old body and soul.
10: All my life there is nothing but depression and misery. I've made some stupid mistakes and now I'm paying for them. It seems I haven't a leg to stand on.
11: My detractors make a fool of me, and that includes my close circle of friends. It seems they can't stand the very idea of me. They can never stop to talk but are always busy somewhere else.
12: I might as well be dead for all they care, as long as they don't have to think about me. I feel completely knocked out.
13: They don't get it Lord They're telling lies about me. Their bullying is just plain scary.
They get together to eliminate me out of their picture. Murder is no problem to them.
14: Yet I know I can bet on You, dear Lord. My answer is You.
15: I know that times are yours to deal with; Just get me out of their hands, and get me somewhere safe from this constant persecution.
16: Make an example of them Lord, by exonerating me. Let them know that You are my BLOOD BROTHER!
17: I am dependent on You God, and I know You won't shame me. Let them wear it themselves. The grave will stop their boasting.!
18: I do like the open mouths when liars have nothing to say, because the proud, contemptuous rhetoric against your people hits the dust hard.
19: There is such magnificence about your kindness torque which you set up for us who have finally learned to esteem You., which you spread out for the ones who have joined Your ranks, and it's right out there for the sons of men to covet! (That's what they need to covet.)
20: It's so fun that You protect us secretly by Your very presence, so they can't get a grip on us.. Yes, Your Truth keeps us safely secured, away from their tongue-lashings.
21: I'm screaming out "Blessed be Yahweh" because He has demonstrated to me his kindness torque right here in a dynamic place.
22: I thought, and indeed I said, "You don't care about my situation." Even so, You paid attention to my pleading voice storming your ears.
23: Oh, How can I say it any stronger? All of you who are His children, that the Lord immunises the faithful, and boy does He repay arrogance.
24: Get your war boots on everyone. He is your backup cover - (BLOOD BROTHER JESUS of the NT). Your heart beats in sync with His heart all you brothers and sisters in Jehovah, and that is your strength.
1: The Lord is my wonderful mentor. I have no fears of lack when I'm around Him.
2: He is so peaceful to be around, so SAFE, it's like spread-eagling out on the grass, or dabbling one's feet in still water to make my ripples.
3: He always has encouragement for me so that my soul feels well content and animated. He teaches me the amazing values of righteousness, of keeping my behaviour honed and clean, because He wants my intimacy!
4: No matter what happens, or where I am emotionally, or what I'm facing - even death itself - I have nothing to be afraid of
Because you are defending my back with your powerful weaponry, and that is a great comfort to me.
5: There is the most dazzling table of goodies that You have set up for me, and those who make fun of me have absolutely NO IDEA about it - they have no idea of what they are missing out on!
Not only that but You pour the oil of your favour and blessings all over my head and life.
My cup isn't half empty. It isn't half full either. It's absolutely running out all over the place! It never stops.
6: If there is one thing I am sure of, it's that true love and gentlest touch are my environment every single day that I live, and that is exactly where I will remain - right there in the Lord's House, for ever and ever.
1. Powerful is the man who isn't listening to culturally correct counselling, isn't cautiously trying to please everybody, and who doesn't see outright scorn and sarcasm as a reason for backing down from the truth.
2. But he is so excited about the teachings of God that he spends time learning them every day and night.
3. He shall be like a giant-sized redgum tree by a great river, blossoming and seedbearing regularly each year, never looking even a little bit dry, and every year he'll be getting more and more successful at what he does.
4. Outside of God there are no guarantees like that. The wind can blow anywhichway for outsiders.
5. They'll fall over when the rubber hits the road on the Day of the Lord, and narcissism won't work among God's faithful people.
6. The Lord can easily pick out His faithful followers, but the others won't be able to hold their heads above water in the long run.
Oh, we know them.
Might be kin to them.
We aware of many.
We have seen several.
In truth plenty.
Yes, these lookalike kids.
Who hear this a lot?
Some surely gets upset.
Constantly hearing other confess they look like another sibling.
Especially, the older ones.
And a few younger ones.
Especially, when you're not twins.
Still the comments keeps on coming.
When you're a lookalike kid.
And you're not about see the saying about to end.
Still like a waters edge.
A sense of no sense and nonsense.
Puddle drunk, a nun to nothing and cross dressing monk.
You cannae hide, seek the tongues that speak.
A riddle of the weak, a bridge that saves both sides from falling away to a mountains edge,
the tiller, distiller lookalike Windy Miller,
converse, adverse no rhyme or reason to build a better will.
Roosters on roster,
words for goodwill associated.
Fortune tellers to alter
the fate of a deep fried miserable one
and make it again a flying creature.
That will eventually amaze
ordinary people like me if not a lot.
The monkey could have climbed higher
I am afraid rest of the roosters will crow
no matter whom the crocodile will bite next
with tears. This little prayer
goes to those victims lookalike
for swimming longer in the bigpond
of rumours for sake of
Jan 30, 2017
there is talk
of a parallel world;
one and the same as here
yet so drastically different—
beyond a looking glass
you see your reflection;
it wears a smile
you wonder how your lookalike
has diminished your eternal frown
stand over deathly still waters;
toss an unfortunate pebble
perhaps the portal lies within
the undying ripples?
a falcon scoffs;
upon your dusty ruins
with trembling fingers
for the broken glass
of a silver clock;
trapped in a dimension
ruled by hours
where the sands of time
- - -
They’re ghosts right?
From our memories,
Have been seized, we
From the perfect dream?
Drip drop drip drop
Turning tricks, dropped the jack
Bitch, when you coming back?
It’s off it’s off
Seldom silence serves as sight’s severance.
Dick chop dick chop OW!
Fucking pistol clock
Whip glock whipping cock
How many names can you think of for a knockoff
Of soda pop?
I’m sorry sir you’ve got the wrong Ryan,
I haven’t starred in any movies that cryin’
Old seniles, and sensitive females, so honestly claim
Was the way life should have been for them.
Oh in that case I’ll show you the brain,
Then kick you in the ass for being so gay.
Hold on there, wrong Ryan.
I ain’t waiting tables, or banefully fryin’
Up shit that I spit in for women with tips worth less
Than my two cents.
Oh I apologize, celebrity lookalike.
Must be the weather or the windshield is cracked
Or the antennae are bent or the cables are jacked
But I can’t seem to figure out just who you are
When I’m watching the TV pimped into my car,
Let’s try a few shall we
Not a cook…Not a lover boi…Silence of the…Birds, if you’re a bird I’m a…Bat…Batman! Batman and Robin! Red Robin! No not a waiter…
Red hearse, Fred Durst, Paris Hilton, Ryan Milton
Wrong Ryan, Wrong Ryan!
Oh my god, silly me
I seem to have gone on a tangent you see.
Tandem bicycles, all of them for free.
If you would only come visit. Agreed?
Of course I know that you’re THE Ryan B.
the back corner seat
in the cafe
it gives a good view
of those entering
and a good view
of the baristas
as they work
at the bar
the Clara Bow
with her black hair
and cute cut
and dark eyes
and in the background
the piped Baroque music
or sometimes jazz
setting feet to tapping
but this day
the barista is
the short girl
with the Italian twang
the orders right on cue
and who knows
before you say
on a good day
the tattooed barista
his favourite gaze
to watch her work
and talk and smile
and the glitter
in her eyes
for other men
i know it pacifies,
national socialism was experimented
but national capitalism took over,
you have a McDonald and a KFC
in Slovakia and other places...
it's not killing people,
but it's definitely numbing them...
they have no chance of a cultural
uniqueness, this national capitalism
has america in BIG PRINT seen
everywhere, and china in small
print worn everywhere: MADE IN;
which basically means everywhere
starts becoming a lookalike alike alike alike
shithole, hence the emergence of
internet shopping, everyone becoming
like the rich kids: pool, snooker hall
and all other social functioning distractions
enabling congregation under one roof,
with richy rich over here, having to pay
for a jerk-off too gluttonous to do it himself;
hey, it's just a muscle kid...
the clergy have a monopoly on the semen:
esp. if it's all girlie girl girls.
Too many men they know a daughter is his spouse world.
They know more secrets that won't be avail to him.
It's a mother and daughter confidential secret
Many daughter are the splitting style of their moms.
Many have the characteristic of their mothers.
From the way they talk.
From the way they speak.
Which gets pointed out constantly.
Many mothers shops for two.
They constantly hear she just like you.
Now, watch the smile rises high.
When a mother's told of a lookalike child.
A father knows it.
A brother is aware.
Even a friend if you ask them.
A mother and daughter has their own world.
And any male is trying to fit in.
They learn common sense, from mom.
They learn to handle trouble, from mom.
They learn inner strength, from mom.
A mother and daughter stands strong.
This is something we must confess.
If you know love.
It will be from the way they are.
The groove, the rut, and the cut
were walking down the street.
As good friends do oft,
Cousin in name and in shape,
They strode sided, but said not a word.
Still understood that three
So different, nonetheless, one design.
The cut was old yet still bled
From time to time.
The groove and the rut, always in touch,
T'issued spear-carriers, armed and
Loving, dabbed and blotted the cut clotted.
For that is what the friends are 'the for,'
For the clotting, the knitting and the closing.
The bleeding came when it came,
They jested that they could never leave him,
For tho he bled regular, there was no schedule,
No knowing the when, but the why, that they
Understood. They would not have left him anyway
Exception of course now and then, but leave
Their man, their cuz, was not to be conceived.
The rut was long, thin, you had to look down
To see his full length, for he grew bottom-down,
Every day another ring, another inch, on the soles
Notched, they dared not, count them, so many days
Rutted in the tedium of a blood count of unable,
Incapable of being broken, his enemy, arch, was his friend.
Tedium his companion, his drug dealer,
When groove and cut were at work, failing to supervise.
Rut could only sigh. Sole solitary sound, except for the
Quiet ringing only he could hear, rings forming,
Day after day, and he could not count that high,
So instead each rut was given a name,
For blessed endless the world of words that say
I am a daily existence, nothing more, nothing but less.
The groove, hero to the cut and the rut,
Had his moments.
But he had secrets he did not share with them,
But as an outside-looker-in, I was privy to the
Privy of everything.
The groove was oval, wiry, snakey shaped,
But prone when prone to twisty turns when
Objects like objectives met, in counter ed.
But when groove was grooving,
There was full blown full mo, the world observed.
Strict silence for the poems that
Shook lose from his frame,
Bad his eyes, wept he,
Lines of ones and twosies,
Fat and wide his fame,
For when the groove was
Cooing and cooling,
Life infused him and sips of tea,
Each transformed into the heat of ooh and the ahh,
When the cup was empty, he had his finished 'aha,'
Of a new parting, gift giving in his heart.
For he she see saw the angle of simple, and thus could
Groove on grooving.
The rut and the cut were happy for him,
Watch with incredible incredulity and an itty bitty
Jealousy of which they never rudely spoke.
But they would board his poetry-train sled,
Down they rode, the white snow
Of being a a lookalike groovy kid,
Even if and but, for just a few minutes.
Everyone loved groovy, and watch his every movie,
Licked the whiskey wooden snowball words from his lips,
but would not admit they kept them hid,
So they could be reread when they were at home
In the closet with flashlight, and the weeping was easy.
The three cuz went to the carnival.
Fun house with mirrors that made you look like
Who You really were.
But not them, for "the for" was different,
For when they strode sided before those mirrors,
They could plainly see that the
Groove, the rut the cut
Looked exactly alike,