civil is not the word
when she draws her pen
that is mightier than the sword

Get thee behind me. Even as, heavy-curled,
Stooping against the wind, a charioteer
Is snatched from out his chariot by the hair,
So shall Time be; and as the void car, hurled
Abroad by reinless steeds, even so the world:
Yea, even as chariot-dust upon the air,
It shall be sought and not found anywhere.
Get thee behind me, Satan. Oft unfurled,
Thy perilous wings can beat and break like lath
Much mightiness of men to win thee praise.
Leave these weak feet to tread in narrow ways.
Thou still, upon the broad vine-sheltered path,
Mayst wait the turning of the phials of wrath
For certain years, for certain months and days.

I searched for these words up in the attic
with narrow ribbons of enlightenment streaming
through all-too-small windows
igniting the drifting dust specks on fire,
and on the streets in the gutters
that were gloom-spattered with murky water lunging
towards the grated storm guards
as if they were salvation.
I scrounged through soaked and disintegrating cardboard boxes
bearing the letters L O S T A R T S
and old, musty and molded trunks
that had broken locks and missing keys.
I dug them out of  soft-cloth linens, carefully selected them
from heaping mounds of scrap
-like sifting through a junk yard-
to find those precious bits of silver,
sweet iridescent bubbles
encasing so delicately words like
"language" and "cellar."
I gathered these knic-knacks and baubles
and I alighted them with utmost care
through winding black back streets in my little burlap bag
to my borrowed safe-haven room. And without
turning on the lights,
the door was shut and stopped and I was perched
with great secrecy,
cross-legged upon my bird's nest of a bed,
daintily extracting each little orb
and examining them and all their wonder.
Tri-dimensional little things, that, no matter how you turned them,
seemed always to be a bi-dimensional halo of pale, golden light.
They shone, each minute embryo, like an old-time city lamp,
before such evil things as electricity came
and robbed them of a candle's beauty.
And its core, as is true with humans, is its most glorious aspect.
There is a transparent ocean in there,
with roiling waves that spin the currents
and coax every particle to circulate.
And caught in the eye of that undersea tornado are flecks of glitter,
so tiny that you would not be aware of them at all
were it not for the magnificent glimmer that they sparked,
magnifying and throwing back the fainter glow
of that ethereal encircling band.
Pixies that danced at the autumn festival.

I found these words for you,
broken and perfect and shining,
and collected them on a shelf where I could view them
before I handed them over to you.
I collected them with you in mind.
Can’t you tell?
I found words like “lustrous” and “lust”
because they reminded me of you.
I arranged them sporadically,
and smiled to see “alabaster princess”
sitting unintentionally before my eyes.
And how you are my Alabaster Princess.
But oh dearest-mine, be wary of how you find these words.
Use them sparingly, and do not tarnish them.
Keep them like nuns keep themselves: ******.
If you must write them,
then write them in pretty hand-made inks,
and decorate each letter with dips and swirls, each letter a flourish.
And if you must utter them,
say them quietly, and in simple complementary sentences.
You can be Kennedy for a day,
or speak softly and let them be their own big stick.
Keep them uncommon, like you are uncommon,
and know when the repetition of weaker words can make them herculean.
Guard these words with all your strength:
with that sword hanging deftly on your wall,
with that letter-opener on your kitchen table,
with that pocket knife in your favorite pair of jeans.
Those words will save us one day,
once the world has reverted back to an aristocracy.
With that noble face of yours and this clever brain of mine, love,
we’ll con them into making us their master,
gold and land or no.
even if the sole things we own are our names.
And we’ll teach them again how to speak,
with all the sweetheart mightiness of poetry that speech was intended to have.
And we will learn to bow with all the eloquence of B.C. bible writing.
Machiavelli never saw rulers like us.

We’ll cry like the Devil on a Sunday morning
for the alteration in our names from D’evil,
and whomever first declared “they’re there yonder to get their ***!” shall know my wrath
(although that may have been me).
Parlez vous Français?
Non.
These words that I pillaged
from the mouths of great stone grave monuments,
I hope that you will remember them well.
I hope that you will pour over them
and gaze at them in all of the bedazzled stupor that I did.
And once upon a time,
when children loved to read
and sought the same type of affection that I have at last found in you,
when even the Greek gods were playing with pens and devising an alphabet,
I sat there on rocky shore, seasoning with saltwater,
drawing with my toe under the waterline,
your face.
Pretty as a picture,
and worth a thousand words.

An open field,

dark and wild,

moonlight stretches its limbs across the rippling grass.

The crash of water, pounding against the rocks and snow,

the cliff edge far away, being broken away.

The water beats its familiar tattoo, sending animals into hiding.


but not you.

A shadow, a crude outline.

My skin prickles at the sight of you, prowling around the moonlight.

Thick fur of raised spikes,

flexed limbs and graceful lines,

a low growl locked behind sharp teeth,

held head high whilst dagger-sharp eyes,

lock with mine.


I see the storm inside.

a tumultuous ocean encased in your eyes.

all the rage and power and mightiness

of nature, desire, hunger.

I feel no fear, lost in your confident gaze,

even as curved claws rake the stones you climb towards me.

The wind that disturbs the plain holds no design over you.

Freedom.

Energy, hot blood and ruthless snarls, you own the land;

you hold the night still in your focus.

A rough, raw and deadly sight to your vulnerable prey

hunger drips from your jaws,

sold, finite, swift and searching.

communicating with

your eyes;


You have found me.


I see you.

what do you crave?

A respite from bitter loneliness?

a remedy to your curse?

you struggle with the demons you carry. I can see.

so real your tender scars like lace on rough skin.

But you

are strong.

true wildness will never be contained.

you belong to no one, nor thing;

your first allegiance lies with yourself.

the blood coursing through your veins, a red river flowing like mine.

tight and bundled inside, waiting to run and chase and feel

the thrill

of

your

hunt.


Come with us.

Let us teach you.

Let yourself unravel and embrace the warm sting of strength,

Open yourself to howl, to stalk and to roam the wilds and the nights.

well, I’m waiting…


A hot burst, lean and agile, springing forth.

I run.

I bolt towards your challenging eyes.

I leap.

The change takes hold, ripping back my skin,

my form shifts;

black fur, as dark as a starless sky, traces my body;

canines sharpen as they bite my lips,

legs strengthen, limbs lengthen,

my back arches, spine transforming.

Vision is crisp, bright; I can see everything that is truly lurking in the

night.


I land at your feet and rise to your height.

you growl, hot breath in my face.

I howl in return, a sharp cry lingering to silence the rest of the dark.

I am in communion with you.

alongside our nature, our ambitions, our wants.

We run.

Icy breeze, whipping and gliding along our fur.

No terrain frightens me. No movements shock me. The cold no longer

burns me.

We run wild.

We run wild and free.

Betwixt the Alloquy
Of me and Reyna Jane's tongue's;
Spilleth out the astrology, aloft the moon and the sun.

God shalt unite us
In the new life;
Of the next.

Thither the peace coming
The fountain's shalt be running;
With Christ's aura of his mightiness.

The world's now faltering
Forward star's to hit this dune;
Annular mushroom cloud's, as well from man's nuclear doom.

As china faileth, and the State's of America fumble
I'm ready to go, so queen do knoweth;
The stock's art about to jumble.

Look high, mine love
To ourn creator above;
Trumpet's art about to be blown.

The celestial's art heavy
Ourn universal levee;
Is broken, so clingeth to me mine dove.



©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane nagley dedication/ prophetic poetry

Years, listening to your lies and
writing sad odes, sorry metaphors about worthlessness,
all the reasons, various, numerous, for my loneliness,
figure flawed, wits wanting, a person less than perfect,
me, cast in the role of defective, undesirable.
I believed you.

This morning, you’re at it again,
telling me I can’t have this, the sum of my hopes:
a mountain too tall and I, too small, can’t overcome it.
a feat too mighty, and I, too weak, can’t accomplish it
a vision so beautiful, and I, so ugly, can’t attain it.
In all of this, you’re right.

Or would be, if I wasn’t part of a Whole
who’s height can’t be measured,
who’s mightiness surpasses strength,
who’s beauty a sunrise can’t match.
All this and more is mine in Him
so I stand, therefore,
to tell you I will drink none of your poison today,
to say sorry, sir,
the sum of my hopes cannot be shaken
by the sum of the fears you fling in my face.

hold me tight,
with your lips
take me to your paradise.
let's sing this hymn
in unity, with one voice,
on a well-designed podium.
lift me up, sing to my ears songs
with the sweetness in a baby's voice,
call me to order.
like a police officer, parade me
into your crime world -
you the protagonist
$ I, the antagonist.
let's fight this war together -
i'll be the sword $ you'll be the shield
and we'll win the battles as warriors.

Asake,
let's create a story
on this matrimonial platform
that would be stained by your red kiss.
let me voyage through your homeland,
visit your kinsmen
with my mightiness.

The grand flood was a teacher who learnt his student the secrets of eternity. Utnapishtim knew all the secrets when  the mightiness of water transfigured in front of his eyes. There are no fairies or witches on the flood but Utnapishtim realized the listen and knew the essence of life.  In front of the wide eyes of the flood, Utnapishtim built his big ship to save our life and all these smiles. Gilgamesh crossed the great sea to meet Utnapishtim, the man of the flood who told him about the plant of immortality which resides peacefully behind the wide sea.  Gilgamesh traversed the wide sea and found the eternity plant but when he entered the cold pond to swim, a snake of destiny stole the timelessness from our hands. Yes, Utnapishtim grasped the eternity because he had built a big ship while Gilgamesh lost his immortality plant because he just made a small boat. The flood has a heart, so it learned Utnapishtim the wisdom and the secrets of life while Gilgamesh’s plant has a sleepy eyes, so it chose the snake instead of us.

Once a baby Sky wanders in search of,
True love and peace in the universe.
‘
Spends many days and nights,
But does not succeed in his mission.

Suddenly he impinges against a dark Cloud,
Looking very dreadful like a monster.

Dark Cloud traps him into his clutches,
And gloats over an innocent baby Sky.

Terrified Sky, cries, yelps, shouts,
But finds no one to help him.

To release himself from clutches of Cloud,
Made every attempt but all in vain.

But had learned never to give up,
And struggles to keep his hopes alive.

Recalls the magic spells of his mother,
Perseverance, patience and passion.

Realizing his energy and mightiness,
Reaches at the zenith of his strength.

Whoops and roars on the monster,
As if Titanic were collided with an Iceberg.

Releases himself from clutches of monster,
Enthusiasm makes him win invincible battle.

Flies away to start next stage of his journey,
Exploring again love and peace in the universe.

The rolling of the sea rolls over me
a swallowed thought,
a hiccup in the mightiness of nothingness
it waves goodbye below the talons of a storm grey sky
which grab at me as I roll and roll in the rolling sea.
If I land I want to land on the impermanence of a present
tense and move towards that which rewards me,
towards and to the rear of me,
atop and underneath the rolling sea,
I roll along,bowling to a future who knows what
that can be?

How fitting it all is
I've discovered the new Sia album
Just a few days ago
It makes me wanna
Light everything on fire
And dance, just like
The flame I ******* am.

I reread what I wrote you on your birthday
I've read the one I wrote today and sent you
About 13 times
The words seem to go and flow right through me
Like a masked ghost.

Sunday night
Cinnamon covered apples
You didn't expect me to leave you
Did you, you little pretty thing?

But you aren't pretty
And no one close in my life likes you
For me.

It would have been so much easier
To apologize, to say "you're right. I just wanted to see you."
To grovel, be the weak one
Drugs to heal my throat taking over
I've gotten to know my bedroom so well these past few days
My body and mind forcing me to slow down
I plan and pontificate with other powerful women
I know my man is out there
Somewhere.

But I stop
I stop searching, looking
Trying to transform you into him
I started to wonder these past few days
At my own kindness, goodness
Because I once again felt trapped and confused
By who and what I wanted you to be.

You do anything to not think of me
So glad to go dance, meet new people
Laugh, tear up the floor
I guess in a lot of ways you disgust me.

But you meant to keep me here, around
To twirl me like a little doll
Just when you wanted to
I often spent my days wondering
Feeling less motivated
If they didn't involve you
But I did what I needed to do
I mattered monumentally in this moment
That
Our friends, you will still insist, I know
I pave and create me own way.

Will you come be an adult this weekend?
Who knows.
Baseball cap, those ******* iconic tennis shoes
I wish this would be the instant
Where you wrote a poem in reply
But you won't and you don't
Coward
Cowardly lion
Cowardly little boy
Cowardly little doll.

I'm sorry I guess
I take that back.
No I'm not.
Women spend much too much
Time apologizing, being sorry
Throwing myself out of a moving cab
I loved how concerned you were
But I wanted to run.


I'll always run
I'll always jump
But this time
I don't call you back
Or find you in the street
Put on a happy face
Just for you and me
Nope.
I watch the romantic love
You still worship
Burn into roasting ashes
With freedom, delight
And a mightiness
I've always wanted to embrace.

Unremitting tears in dry eyes
and halted flow of blood in nerves
What lies just behind my pectus
is a heart
or a muscle
filled with
igneous unwanted emotions  

Let’s just hold our breathe
for a moment
and see
moments of eternal attachments
are becoming breathless
with our detest  

Is it really necessary
to search answers for all the unsolved questions
and find reasons for all the incidents/accidents
and bruise
equanimity of sun soaked day
calm attraction of loneliness

Is it really necessary
to drag
all dead souls from their graves
and **** them again  

I know
restricted sensations are
hitting  my heart
to be expressed
to be showed
to be felt and filled  

But is it really necessary
to plead for the need
to rest and cry over your chest
to face the silence
that will come after your departure  

Silence has its own words
Darkness has its own color
How does it matter
whether all the squatters
know this or not  

Its enough for me
If I could let you know
I and mightiness of my feeling
started with you  
and will end with you

At one point you said you weren't ready
Now we're having this blessing
Things will get rough
Buttons will be pushed
But I want you to know
No matter how much we undergo
I'll stay by your side
As long as I got your back
I know you'll have mine.
This is a huge step in our relationship
But we gave each other so we'll make it
You're going to be great
Even the nights you have to stay up late
Warming the bottles, changing the diapers
You never were like the others
Your mightiness and royalty glows
You'll fall in love once you see his little toes
He's very fragile
So don't get crazy
My love we're having a baby




Xoxoxo
~sin

The ghost of joyous bells ring out
Celebrating the turn of the millenium
Billions of absent voices shout
Into the skeleton of a past society

Dreams lie shattered
In the derelict, guilty future
Memories lie scattered
In piles of grey powder ash

Pools of radioactive water gather
In the stillness of great craters
Here once stood amazing things but after
Only gaping black pits in the shadows

Specks of dust are hunted down
By the relentless shine of the burning sun
They helplessly drown in the sticky air
Of the quietly infinite emptiness

This is the graveyard
Dug by the mightiness of human greed
The earth will be forever scarred and
We have only ourselves to blame.

Superman, caped
Superhero of your childhood
Who but you stood for good.
Kryptonite did you right, but
You know
******’s the new Niagara
Mightiness the new flightiness
Vulnerability the new civility
So, tell me why Superman,  
You are so supersensitive
Touchy and defensive less
Couldn’t you see my pain
That I tried so hard in vain
To hide
Hey, Superman
What kind of girl
Do you think I am
I’m not a damsel in distress
But, for God’s sake
Let me know
Is it no
Or is it
yes

Never trust a man in a cape
Says Jake
Never trust a man in disguise
Said I
Never trust a man who flies
Or denies his lies
Never trust a man who doesn’t cry
Never trust a man who can’t get down on his knees
To please, hey
****? Maybe
Prayerful always
  
Superman doesn’t know what he needs
He only knows what he thinks, thinks
Too much thinking, thinking
Cerebration celebrating
Mentation, mentation
Marching to mental notes
Of what to do
If I were you
Judge nation integration
He’ll keep you hanging  
Upside down, downside up
***
He’s a man of deeds
Indeed
All I can say is:
Where will you find inspiration
Never having to ask for help
Help!
Do you think it can be found
In the iteration of your vocation
The kinship of your friendship
The censorship of your feeling self
The pathological need to give
To be liked.

Stop
Superman
your s is shrinking
rip off your shirt shrieking
Pound your chest like an ape man
Modern man, caveman
Crazy man
Here’s my unsolicited advice
Stop being so nice
(Present company excluded)
Let go of the wounds
The controls
The potholes
The foxholes
Free yourself from yourself

Just don’t resist
Resist resistance
Is that an oxymoron
Or am I just a *****

Superman, can you do that
Lois Lane can’t wait much longer
She’s getting much stronger
And she’ll leave you alone
And you won’t have a clue
As to what to do
And she’ll ask you why
You’ll tell her a lie
It’s not really a lie
You simply don’t know why
Superman could never be lonely

You see
Don’t you,  
It was always about you
And it still is
From the time I was five
And you weren’t even alive
It was you
From the beginning
You see
Don’t you, darling
You were always my superhero.

I look at you often, always have, enticed
and seduced more, than you’ll ever know.
Your sight overwhelmingly sooths me, lifts
my spirits up high, closer to you as I wonder,
where you end and begin, where you meld

stealthily with my being.

Stretching my inadequate body to reach,
unable to touch you I feel, the gentle caress
of your ethereal otherworldly skin, all over,
around and within, me. Enveloping my shape
you suggest, metamorphoses to come

as we blend.

You, unable to utter a word, speak, so loudly
to my deafened ears prevailing vibrations echo,
in the warmth of my veins. Your muteness penetrates
unhindered my listening consciousness compelled
to give in to the richness of your horizon filled,

with promises and potentials.

Recognising my essence in one of a thousand
sceneries you majestically create, making me
feel special, proposing I am unique, till the moment
I believe, keeping the secret all to myself, unwilling
to share, to lose, to acknowledge the truth.

As I grow in your pervasive shadow however
you scold my limitedness, monstrously obliging me
to accept, you are not mine, we are not exclusive
and I alone, am not unique. No reserves to passions
shared, with many more. I look at you and feel so far.

I cannot even reprimand your betrayal, admiring
your mightiness and bounties as you love, protect
and embrace the entire human race, inviting me
to rid of greed, of wanting you all for me, until
I realise, you are me, and together we encompass

the whole of humanity.

A morsel of pain quickens the heart,
its gentle breeze becomes a cloud
simply hovering at first, grey and peaceful a refreshing delight to the sun
an innocent melancholy.
With the strike of lightning, the downpour starts, collecting rapidly, until turning into an ocean thundering and churning
demolishing all things beautiful,
cracking and tearing down ivory bridges with every strike. Escalating, booming in all its mightiness
until its roar is all I hear,
the currents pounding against the rhythm of my heart pushing it outwards, stringing along my insides,
turning me inside-out like a coat.

And I,
amidst the endless battering of the waves, struggling to breathe head halfway under
I reach out to the sky in vain
towards the ghost of the ivory bridge
Gasping for air,
salt mixing in salt
my hand stretches up again
looking for someone, anyone
towards a god of a religion forgotten
flailing and struggling, until my lungs burn
water overpowering the fire in my heart.
With a final pull from the endless current
my head goes under

I awake to find myself in a strange desert land, completely dry.
I feel nothing
wrung out, every fragment of pain
every memory of joy
completely evaporated from my once-soaked soul my heart no longer beating,
I am nothing.

March, 2016

like my vehicle's exterior
i keep chipping away
and my cuticles won't heal
and my sick beak won't let them be
and they seep the color of my machine
but the burgundy never hinders me
i'm distant, it's why

i'm so driven.

i get no brakes
my right sole estranged me
it's not just the outside
decaying slowly
it stopped stopping
at my ****** bedsheets
it's festering.
i'm still peeling
desperately
all because

i'm so driven.

i'm still trying
to get to a place
where i feel content
but i just learned,
it's nonexistent.
why the ****
didn't they tell me
why did no one spoil me
by ruining my hope eternally
when they reveal that
it lives exclusively
in tables of content
and children's fantasies?
nonetheless,

i'm so driven.

my grip on my path
and this steering wheel
in my hand
face insanity.
there's no stopping me.
we'll stand divided
when together we give up
using the weak, pressing
their skulls with our feet
giving audiences that all
resemble one another
the illusion of highness,
of mightiness,
and stature,
and elevation.
but the ones with the
goodness and pure intent
end up broken
incapacitated
decapitated
aphasic
like history X—
—sure, they've submitted
but it's long past due dates.
they'll give up inevitably
like their blinkers, for me
they'll burn out in solidarity
and i'll feel better,
i know

i'm so driven

we’re incapable of looking up
or seeing the sun
when united we're falling
we'll always be too busy
competing with others' grips on rocks
incapable of epiphanies like the fact
that facing catastrophes in unison
doesn't change the ultimate reality
that we face impending doom alone but

i’m
so
*******
driven

to drive others to the ground
to make us history
to draw x’s
and plant pennies on eyelids
we've let it blind us
social desirability
is a one-way street
to three times two feet
beneath roads unpaved

to catalyze the torturous process
and injustice and cruelty
i drop more of my pieces'
readers off in the same spot
as i find myself,
more
lost

maybe then they'll be
indifferent like me,
in denial, too,
certainly, then,
they'll attempt
speaking to skies
chanting hymns and psalms
and similar reaffirmations
any maybe then, they'll look to me
then we'll all sing in harmony
and

"i'm so driven”

will be music to my ears

and before i gasp
to fill my pink air sacs
with more gas,
i will let it be known
that i am to credit for
the eternal peace
the mortality
of the cancer
that is humanity
and united
and divided
we'll all stampede
and get tangled in our minds
in webs too thick
to pass for silk roads
and the only thing we'll know
is that we won’t be abandoned
once we tailgate our neighbors
that find themselves stuck
between rocks and hard places
and the only direction in sight
is the former, so they pray
take a leap of faith
and
off
  cli
    ff-
     ha
       ng
         e
          r
          s
          .
        . ¨. .

The Soul of Light
When the roads open their eyes, all the blue fish will come to my sea. The road is a smile exits its pink  ear from that window which sleeps on my mother hands. Without any delay, I am disappearing in the mother's light. My heart, like a bird on an icy bough, will immerse in that moment comes from her chant;the soul of light. My love is that wind which can cross all clouds, and that grass which hug all world goats, but the mother light is a different world and impossible in its oneness.


The Wings of Light
When the morning’s happiness poured, and the foggy shadow secluded, at that moment I knew that the sun had a pure splendid face and the wings of light went to laugh with their full days. When the mask of darkness falls, I will see all the towers and the glorious rain chants on your hands. O great Mary, from your heart corners all the dreams of white rivers come.I watch your light wings and see your words on the lake’s face: “The man of peace will defeat darkness by every loved word." .

The Tales of Light
Where the secret springs of the universe have been immersed in the dust of clayish towns and misted by their brown breeze, I saw your azure trees smiled at the waterfalls and your carnelian submerged in ice tobacco of Mashu Mountain. The white wings of your blooming spirit told the earth the tales of light, that had been colored by a shawl of a girl gathering the date from her grandfather garden. So, the mightiness of earth bends with astonishment at your old glitter and as a long distance which was crossed by bare feet, it flies as spatial vehicle had seen a new face of moon.

When the roads open their eyes, all the blue fish come to my sea. The road is a smile exits its pink  ear from that window which sleeps on my mother hand. Without any delay, I am disappearing in its  light where the warmness wears its whit coat. My heart, like a bird on an icy bough, will immerse in that moment comes from her chant; the soul of light. My love is that wind which can bring all the sky clouds, and that grass which hugs all the world goats, but the mother love is a different world and impossible in its oneness.
When the morning’s happiness poured, and the foggy shadow secluded, at that moment I knew that the sun had a pure splendid face and the wings of light went to laugh with their full days. When the mask of darkness falls, I will see all the towers and the glorious rain chants on your hands, where the secret springs of the universe have been immersed in the dust of clayish towns and misted by their brown breeze. I saw your azure trees smiled at the waterfalls and your carnelian submerged in ice tobacco of Mashu Mountain. The white wings of your blooming spirit told the earth the tales of light which had been colored by a shawl of a girl gathering the date from her grandfather orchard. So, the mightiness of earth bends with astonishment at your old glitter and flies as spatial vehicle had seen a new face of the moon.

I called roaringly like
a hungry lion looking
desperately for meat
to survive.

I demanded for my meat
to survive in this wilderness
of world of wants and plenty

And His favor came tumbling
down in waterfall of glut of supply
on the cliff of amazement, shooting
down fear in glory of signs and
wonders.

The Almighty is mighty in His
mightiness, working wonders
in the midst of the Earth. He is
Jehovah, the One that  is more
than enough!

Let’s gain some perspective of the reality at large.
No matter how you slice it, people are not the ones in charge.

We flounder around with all our strengths best.
Here one moment, then gone like the rest.

Why then do we at times act unrighteously prideful or haughty?
Although deep inside we understand this concept is one hundred percent faulty.

On the grand scale of things pound for pound we with the earth measure as nothing.
Zero point zero, even filled led stuffing.

He is awesome in power however his mightiness is tempered with delicate gentleness.
This is why he is abounding in matchless eminence.

Love is what he is, and life everlasting is his purposed gift.
Have no reservations for those worthy, he this world will finely sift.

From dust we came and to dust we’ll return.
Specs are what we are, when will we this clear object lesson learn?


J.I.F.

Jeremiah 10:23
I well know, O Jehovah, that man’s way does not belong to him. It does not belong to man who is walking even to direct his step.

Genesis 2:7
And Jehovah God went on to form the man out of dust from the ground and to blow into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living person.

Psalm 103:14-16
For he well knows how we are formed, Remembering that we are dust. 15 As for mortal man, his days are like those of grass; He blooms like a blossom of the field.  16 But when a wind blows, it is no more, As though it was never there.

Living with the Marigolds.

Kindness dwells in the hearts of few,
It encircles them like a gown,
But never is worn with mightIness,
Being humble bound.

It finds its way through thorn and briars and
knotted coastal paths,
And grows where disparity lies,
And knows of broken hearts.

It does not come from trouble free
Or selfish intent,
Living with the marigolds,
A simple garden scent.

For those who have travelled far,
Know the ways within,
Find giving more sustaining,
Than all that power can bring.

Love Mary xxxx

One day the beast awoke
After many centuries of deep sleep
Its power was unparalleled by anything on Earth
As red and orange tinted the land
And grey clouds covered the sky

For while it slept it had dreams
Of mightiness, ******* and destruction
As his hunger slowly grew over time
And memories of his glory faded away

But peace was over
As houses were burned down
Whole forests and fields turned into ashes
People were set ablaze
And the giant showed his true splendor again

Just abruptly as he exploded
He suddenly felt tired
He stopped growling and spitting fire
For he was proud of his work
As he stood still yet again
And so he stayed for many more centuries
Fading away from people’s memories
Waiting for the time to awaken again