"precepts" poems
split the atom an we get fission
mass becomes energy
but can we split a second
enter the essence of the present
what would it mean to us
to be that mindful
ask your self doesn't your mind
only occupy past future
abjectly incapable of living in the present
in the true present there could not be even a ghost of a thought
theres no time to think
can we enter
an incalculable split second
and totally take in that instant
with a forgotten organic technology
is it the big bang in perpetuity
yet quiet as a mute
a raging ever expanding sea in a connected
but distinct dimension
if you entered it
would it not utterly erases all of history
the thinkers and doers along with it
the step beyond the alpha and omega
the great underlining reality
imagine the penetrated moment
an all consuming unimaginable
trans-mutational merge
omnipotent
yet forever imperceptible
to those among us
time locked
an irreducible limitation
like an ant in a closed paper bag
a fixated reflexive machine
wandering aimlessly
with an unknowable mission
and a relentless survival mechanism
with no chance of survival
time as a cosmic metabolism
its medium space
a vast cauldron
an infinite vessel containing endless points of light
everywhere
myriad phenomena
its terrain and the temporal creatures that inhabit it
both exquisite and hideous
an incalculable zoo
histories victors and victims
one and all vanquished
by the curse
consciousness of dis-juncture
a merciless countenance of limitation
yet could time be an illusion
rooted in a narrow awareness
bereft of an eternal
inexhaustible self effulgent now
the rapture
an eternal ******
if we could only penetrate into it
would it swallow us
and blot out the drama of creations theater
is the
now
conscious
illimitable
ecstatic
a perfect meta moment ?
we hear from sacred texts
like the Vedas... Bhagavad Gita.... and Kabbalah
that we may enter beyond the veil
passed time and its ravages
passed mind and its distortions
not to the heaven of religion
in its endless
closed system precepts
anthropomorphic metaphors
theistic gobbledygook
and
sophomoric social engineering
a kind of cliffs notes
god for dummies
we can enter
the eternal abode of the divine
a point between
the splitting of seconds
revealed through the simple act of mindful breathing
pierced by the effort of a focused mind
Mar 3, 2017
Mar 3, 2017 at 8:09 AM UTC
did you know
that the
self effulgent light
of God it self
is **** shaped
as above so below
the inner revelation
******* above...light woven
*** hole below ...flesh woven
does this not infer
a magical operation
perhaps a hermetic
ritual of adoration
perhaps a puja
to the ****
with ornate
kaleidoscopic mandalas
replete with wrinkles
and folds
emerald toilet bowls
silk *** wipe
with full color florals
to be ingratiated
by **** art prints
and to be fussed over
and judged
by certified *******
clergy
then to cleanse
with fragrant ointments
that it may remain
unsullied by its
birthing labors
voluptuous
smoldering
fecundations
for purities sake
as god remains
free of limitation
it too
must remain
free of its forgetful
tarnished children
i build temple of ****
high above the people
the little *****
do they
even know
where they come from
how they may
devote themselves
to the grandeur
of the solar ****
and its bestowals
of clumpy torpedoes
the catechism
of the solar ****
to know
to adore
to prostrate
to proselytize
the glory of ****
to the
for corners
of the earth
to be faithful
unto it
to be obedient
and present
your *******
for ritual manicures
by the true initiates
the fussy
******* faeries
those who have
the secret knowledge
and remain true
to the lore
and precepts
set forth
of divine correspondences
to fully appreciate
its eminence
its glory
and have no
God before it
that mercy
will follow them
all the days
of there lives*
Jul 16, 2016
Jul 16, 2016 at 8:35 PM UTC
The Five Precepts
of Buddhism are:
Non-violence
Honesty
Fairness
Moderation
Sobriety
Not one of them
I haven't ****** up.
But hope lives
in the spinning Wheel;
many more chances
to get them right.
I call that Grace.
~mce
Apr 24, 2015
Apr 24, 2015 at 10:31 AM UTC
Morsi stands among
his people as an expression
of Egypt's democratic will
democratically elected
his feet are rooted in the
constitutional right to rule
Morsi has one foot on a
pillar of secular democracy
promising to uphold Egypt's
journey to an egalitarian future
this pillar advances the
republican ideal that
safeguards diversity
and a people's liberty
to express free will
this pillar brought him
to office and justifies his
right to rule
ironically it’s also a pillar
that Morsi's guiding philosphy
find impossible to suffer
Morsi's other foot is firmly
planted on a pillar of
Sharia sympathies
upholding the divine
foundation of his rule
over this earthly principality
Muslim Brotherhood’s
cardinal principles
undermine the pillar
of secular precepts
that equally enfranchise
all citizens
Sharia Laws allows no standing
to equal rights of women,
religious minorities,
LGBT civil liberties and
advocates suppression
of atheistic and
progressive political groups
this has riled the
democratic sympathies
of the Egyptian people
Morsi's actions
threaten to tip the pillar of
secular democracy back
into the Nile’s murky waters
Morsi's stance
is precarious and as his
feet slip he realizes
he is not the
Colossus of Rhodes
he believed himself to be
discovering it impossible
to bestride the pillars
supporting incompatible
structures
the generals have declared
a road map for stability that
rescinds the constitution,
dissolves the parliament
and places the military
as sole protectorate
of the nation
is the preservation of
a democratic republic more
important than the return
to the rule of a military junta?
is it more wise to place
principles before personalities?
Morsi’s next steps are
uncertain
The pathway of the
people’s democratic
journey remains unclear
the sound of the military’s
marching boots grow louder
Music Selection:
Sweet Honey on the Rock
Marching Off to Freedom Land
Oakland
070313
jbm
Jul 3, 2013
Jul 3, 2013 at 11:08 AM UTC
mea culpa
mea culpa
mea maxima culpa
hear the song of the innocent
hung upon the cross
for the crime he has not commit
forced to plead guilty
by the precepts of society
whilst the crooked
stood at the base
shedding crocodile tears
eyes holding silent leers
feigning innocence
instigating chaos
taking into their advantage
dividedness, our ignorance.
here, the song of the innocent
nears its end
with his last, a doleful verse
"It is done"
Oct 11, 2017
Oct 11, 2017 at 8:08 AM UTC
When I officially became a Zen Buddhist
I took the precepts
and promised to practice
being an energetic Buddhist
to which I replied, "Sort of..."
and everybody laughed
but now
about seven years later
I have become energetic
and I really can't believe it myself.
Dec 6, 2010
Dec 6, 2010 at 1:51 AM UTC
I came to a town on the road to you,
and by chance the day was Eid al Fitr.
The was much music and dancing and rejoicing in life's fullness;
I too was swept away in the simple ecstasies.
But the old Mullahs had heard of my travels
and bid come unto them to discuss heavy matters.
"How can one break the Law and remain beloved of Allah?"
"Because God created the Law out of Love,
thus the Love of Allah is above and beyond it's precepts.
God will Love whom He chooses."
Outrage. Insult. Blasphemy.
The music outside drew my soul away, and I joined
the common people, my brothers and sisters,
while the old men argued without us.
Wordlessly, we danced.
Jul 14, 2013
Jul 14, 2013 at 3:03 PM UTC
My dear old father,
who always loved me the same;
my dear old father I lament
who died the day before yesterday, just before dawn.
Jesus Christ, it is my daily effort
to observe the precepts
of Thy most holy church in all my acts,
in all words, in all thoughts.
And all those who renounce Thee
I shun.-- But now I lament;
I bewail, Christ, for my father
although he was -- a horrible thing to say --
a priest at the accursed Serapeum.
2.3k
The Lord receives his highest praise
From humble minds and hearts sincere;
While all the loud professor says
Offends the righteous Judge's ear.
To walk as children of the day,
To mark the precepts' holy light,
To wage the warfare, watch, and pray,
Show who are pleasing in His sight.
Not words alone it cost the Lord,
To purchase pardon for His own;
Nor will a soul by grace restored
Return the Saviour words alone.
With golden bells, the priestly vest,
And rich pomegranates border'd round,
The need of holiness expressed,
And called for fruit as well as sound.
Easy indeed it were to reach
A mansion in the courts above,
If swelling words and fluent speech
Might serve instead of faith and love.
But none shall gain the blissful place,
Or God's unclouded glory see,
Who talks of free and sovereign grace,
Unless that grace has made him free!
1.9k
To cultivate in ev’ry noble mind
Habitual grace, and sentiments refin’d,
Thus while you strive to mend the human heart,
Thus while the heav’nly precepts you impart,
O may each ***** catch the sacred fire,
And youthful minds to Virtue’s throne aspire!
When God’s eternal ways you set in sight,
And Virtue shines in all her native light,
In vain would Vice her works in night conceal,
For Wisdom’s eye pervades the sable veil.
Artists may paint the sun’s effulgent rays,
But Amory’s pen the brighter God displays:
While his great works in Amory’s pages shine,
And while he proves his essence all divine,
The Atheist sure no more can boast aloud
Of chance, or nature, and exclude the God;
As if the clay without the potter’s aid
Should rise in various forms, and shapes self-made,
Or worlds above with orb o’er orb profound
Self-mov’d could run the everlasting round.
It cannot be—unerring Wisdom guides
With eye propitious, and o’er all presides.
Still prosper, Amory! still may’st thou receive
The warmest blessings which a muse can give,
And when this transitory state is o’er,
When kingdoms fall, and fleeting Fame’s no more,
May Amory triumph in immortal fame,
A nobler title, and superior name!
1.9k
In an age of persecution
When Christians died
For their beliefs
Apostle John wrote
Revelation
To encourage and
Bring relief
First century folk
Who held Jesus' tenants
Were martyred in
Most horrid ways
But John wrote about
His coming
Christ described the
End of Days.
The early faithful
Found their solace
In the Gospel
Sweet & pure
The Bible's WORD
Was ever spoken
And its precepts
Still endure
Modern man cannot
Believe it
Because he has
A hardened heart
But when tribulation
Finds him
Rest assured he'll come apart!
So we put our trust in Jesus?
IS He simply "fairy tale"?
Why did Christians
Sing their hearts out
When lit on fire and impaled?
How could they endure
Having their heads drilled
Molten lead then poured within?
How could could they
Be so calm & joyous
When lions tore them
Limb from limb?
Their contemporaries
Could not believe it!
When Christ was preached
It was received!
The Gospel forwarded
By each man dying
By their blood
The folk believed!
Now Christian people
Won't mention Jesus!
They give sin a little wink!
They're afraid of persecution
By caring what the
Lost may think!
Wake up, folks!
The toast is burning!
Give witnessing
The college try!
There are hearts
Who're out there yearning!
Cap'n Crunch waves us goodbye!
I may get flack
For this assertion
I may get comments
For to spare
I may get called
A backward person
People... I don't really care!
If I don't warn of
God's Judgment
Tribulations in this land
I'm not a Watchman on
The Wall here
And
your blood is on my hands!
I'll read & preach
From Revelation
The ending always
Helps us cope
Read the outcome
Of our suffering
It will give ETERNAL HOPE.
SøułSurvivør
(C) 9/27/2017
Sep 28, 2017
Sep 28, 2017 at 1:41 AM UTC
what is this love
for I have beheld it
cast in metamorphosis
a love that makes
transformations on the mind
permissible transformations
improvisations of the self
in ****** intensity
which emphasises the drama
of sometimes, dark, violent
and repressive potentials
vicious energies of hate and ambition
that propel the enactment
of intense and exhausting experience
of vigorous vertiginous chaos
indomitable in its desires
what is this love
is it a registered predicament
made memorable by vivid language
that would butcher in ritual
gratuitous memories and testify
to an urgency of unwisely relinquished emotion
what is this love
does it flourish in flawed
and unreasonable understandings
accumulated upon the mind
in vicarious thrill of sympathy
where traits are highly exaggerated
and eagerly anticipates
the oppressive weight of the past
that functions upon a common collapse
of distinctions
or does it manufacture artificial precepts
pretending in attractive collaboration
to associate fiction rather than fact
what is this love
is it that by treaty or inheritance
with loving ferocity would embalm all tears
and hide all those collaborations
in flared conflagrations of the heart
and yes create a turmoil in the mind
hotter than a thousand summers
and vividly stamp upon a twisted body
a moral viciousness of fathomless malice
that wouldst close its ears
to the admonitions of conscious
and thus through an improbable
incantatory verbal rite
touch the hidden order of all things
in disassembling nature
what is this love
if only it was known
Aug 17, 2013
Aug 17, 2013 at 5:26 PM UTC
Finding Holy Ground frequently,
should be much easier these days;
isn’t it wherever we happen to go,
since His presence abides with us?
Haven’t we accepted His higher ways?
Are His precepts and promises hidden,
inside the stony temple of our hearts?
Do we desire to mesh our wills with His?
Are we making proper, daily sacrifices
of attitudes- without being torn apart?
Can our speech be free of covetousness?
Will we learn to be completely content,
boldly knowing The Lord is our helper?
Can we get over the irrational fears
that may usurp His Grace and circumvent
the holy plans and purpose given to us?
Are we bowing daily to His authority?
Can we listen to Godly conversations,
without be offended by our ignorance?
Wherever we go, we must realize and see
that we are standing on holy ground-
for the Earth still belongs to the Lord.
Therefore, let’s raise clean hands overhead
with genuine praise before Him, seeing…
that He remains worthy of being adored!
.
.
.
Author Notes
Inspired by:
Heb 13:5-8; Isa 55:8-9; Psa 24
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2015, All rights reserved.
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 9:50 AM UTC
Oh! mihi præteritos referat si Jupiter annos.
VIRGIL.
Ye scenes of my childhood, whose lov’d recollection
Embitters the present, compar’d with the past;
Where science first dawn’d on the powers of reflection,
And friendships were form’d, too romantic to last;
Where fancy, yet, joys to retrace the resemblance
Of comrades, in friendship and mischief allied;
How welcome to me your ne’er fading remembrance,
Which rests in the ***** though hope is deny’d!
Again I revisit the hills where we sported,
The streams where we swam, and the fields where we fought;
The school where, loud warn’d by the bell, we resorted,
To pore o’er the precepts by Pedagogues taught.
Again I behold where for hours I have ponder’d,
As reclining, at eve, on yon tombstone I lay;
Or round the steep brow of the churchyard I wander’d,
To catch the last gleam of the sun’s setting ray.
I once more view the room, with spectators surrounded,
Where, as Zanga, I trod on Alonzo o’erthrown;
While, to swell my young pride, such applauses resounded,
I fancied that Mossop himself was outshone.
Or, as Lear, I pour’d forth the deep imprecation,
By my daughters, of kingdom and reason depriv’d;
Till, fir’d by loud plaudits and self-adulation,
I regarded myself as a Garrick reviv’d.
Ye dreams of my boyhood, how much I regret you!
Unfaded your memory dwells in my breast;
Though sad and deserted, I ne’er can forget you:
Your pleasures may still be in fancy possest.
To Ida full oft may remembrance restore me,
While Fate shall the shades of the future unroll!
Since Darkness o’ershadows the prospect before me,
More dear is the beam of the past to my soul!
But if, through the course of the years which await me,
Some new scene of pleasure should open to view,
I will say, while with rapture the thought shall elate me,
“Oh! such were the days which my infancy knew.”
1.7k
Oh how I love Thy holy Word,
Thy gracious covenant, O Lord!
It guides me in the peaceful way;
I think upon it all the day.
What are the mines of shining wealth,
The strength of youth, the bloom of health!
What are all joys compared with those
Thine everlasting Word bestows!
Long unafflicted, undismay'd,
In pleasure's path secure I stray'd;
Thou mad'st me feel thy chast'ning rod,
And straight I turned unto my God.
What though it pierced my fainting heart,
I bless'd Thine hand that caused the smart:
It taught my tears awhile to flow,
But saved me from eternal woe.
Oh! hadst Thou left me unchastised,
Thy precepts I had still despised;
And still the snare in secret laid
Had my unwary feet betray'd.
I love Thee, therefore, O my God,
And breathe towards Thy dear abode;
Where, in Thy presence fully blest,
Thy chosen saints for ever rest.
1.6k
I foster an incremental relation to the cosmos, enticed regularly by its indefiniteness and appeal.
Its evolutions, innate behaviors, and formidable sciences are recompense for earth’s meager discrepancies.
I often engage in the caprice to dismount much dissatisfaction by the constancy of riveting celestial events.
These beings possess no artificiality.
Its prophetic order, ornate and stupendous architectural facets have allowed a crescendo of dispositional hysteria.
Prosaic imprecations are deduced from its auxiliary wherewithal.
There is no contrition in immersing in enthrallment nor is there fickleness in trust.
Magnificent bodies orbit in finesse and probability, achieving universality and control.
Though these incitements are exponentially cheering, my origin is but connoted in despondency.
Usurpers and ill-suited vandals proliferated by the intemperance of the Ptolemaic discipline.
Rustics, miscreants and idle minds misdirected by less virtuous planetary derision.
My cognitive severity asserted by ominous consummation.
Oh how these preponderant truths confine me unfortunate.
Soliloquy is but an affliction amidst this era of anachronistic reign.
Grandiose passivity is intolerable at this time.
I plan to dichotomize my adamant fate from precepts and conditions anew.
The deposition of malfeasant kings will be sought.
Ploys I have already configured; propagation is near to instigation.
I will exhort my ascent to prime eminence.
The stars will sanction me to a rightful end.
Sep 1, 2014
Sep 1, 2014 at 8:49 AM UTC
Humans are truly pitiful things
We are born weak
We are born with nothing
Yet we desire everything
Especially those things that we can not have
But we do not have a care for one another
The happiness of those that surround us is never given a second thought
Yet there are some who break the mold
Who utterly shatter any precepts of what a human being is
And should be
And ever could become
There are those of us that say **** the rules
There are those of that have forever heard the phrase "life isn't fair" and are sick and god **** tired of it, those of us who are working to make that statement a relic of history
Those of use who place others happiness on the forefront of our mind before even our own
Those of us who forget ourselves in order to keep another from losing them self.
There are those of us that say ***** the rules and live by our own motto
Those of us who kick hatreds *** in an attempt to give every single person in the world the one thing that everyone deserves
The one thing that everyone is entitled to:
Happiness.
Feb 27, 2017
Feb 27, 2017 at 5:45 PM UTC
I wonder sometimes
What it is the that people see
When they look at me
What it is that people notice first
It never ceases to amaze
Just how many seem to have
A hard time really classifying me
I think that we tend to classify people in general
Its often very easy to just
To automatically make assessment off of what we see
We almost have a harder time
Dealing with the people that are ambiguous
That we can't classify right away
Than the people that seem to fit
The stereotypes
Or are preconceived ideas
About how we think
People should behave
Or even look
And if people don't
Automatically fit
Into our neat little boxes
And into a neat little
Classification
Its almost like we repel those people
Somehow it scares us to see people
That don't fit into our ideas
Our ideals of normalcy that is based
On social constructs that we have
Built ourselves
I think we need to step
Away from putting people
In small boxes
We need to start really
Looking at people
Getting past the stigmas
And the social constructs
That we put on certain people
And seeing the person for who they are
Everyone is lost in their own ways
We all could use a little help here and there
But when you automatically
Shun someone
Or push someone aside
Based on superficial constructs
You ultimately end up alienating them
But you are ultimately alienating yourself
Living in lies and false fears
That are based on false precepts in the first place
We all want to be seen as people
We all want to have our own voices
To have our own views
Without worrying about being judged
Or classified by anyone
We are all human
We all deserve to be treated as such
Apr 10, 2012
Apr 10, 2012 at 2:57 AM UTC
Standing as a posthumous syllogism on the main platform of the terminal, is the statue,
Of what is perceived to be man. Nondescript in attitude and feature, balanced
By the raw fact that a craftsman was disposed to cast it in bronze.
The likeness of the general populace, defined through blank eyes, in the perfect reflection
Of the truth. It seems that the epitome of accepted natural progression, that there
Should be no inscription, no engraved statement of popularity or definition on its base.
The dank smell and dust on the edifice on which it resides, continues to be a grim reminder
of the expected and the commonplace. The reminder of what was and is, is left unnoticed,
Forgotten by the familiar repetitive sight.
The dying terminal (a redundant epithet) has grown dark through the cast of despair
And false hope showering its massive windows from above. Light source has been cut off,
Leaving only a path of beaten resolve, to direct the feet of the misguided.
Not unlike the path, closest to the fence, struck hard by the hooves of the cattle, prompted forward
by the hand out of food in the first cold days of winter. The stream grows on a daily basis, more and more
The masses trip and stumble aboard the trains, to find their lurching, rocking way to self destruction.
Nobility could have been found in even handed choice. Those who chose the line, the prolonged rail of
Indifference and non-comprehension. Rails of iron, rusted like the rotted cheap pines on the waters edge.
It is the longest journey, containing the most miles, the last station, the end of earth and existence.
In some way you have known the base emotion, and what has been the guise of continuity, it is a new
Reality, a new abstraction, there are no contradictions. The checked premise and the realization
In words and concepts, those things we have known all along.
The realization is loved and hated at the same time, and it can only be beneficial that the welcome
Exceeds the hatred. The desperate homage to the masses is fading from the tangibleness, and is
Replaced the the disquieting base physical feeling of the impending no mater being undesired.
More important is the knowledge, that the precepts and premises held
Without words have the tangible meaning long desired,
And that the intangible reward, that can only be shared with few.
Dec 26, 2011
Dec 26, 2011 at 9:02 PM UTC
MARION! why that pensive brow?
What disgust to life hast thou?
Change that discontented air;
Frowns become not one so fair.
’Tis not Love disturbs thy rest,
Love’s a stranger to thy breast:
He, in dimpling smiles, appears,
Or mourns in sweetly timid tears;
Or bends the languid eyelid down,
But shuns the cold forbidding ‘frown’.
Then resume thy former fire,
Some will love, and all admire!
While that icy aspect chills us,
Nought but cool Indiff’rence thrills us.
Would’st thou wand’ring hearts beguile,
Smile, at least, or seem to smile;
Eyes like thine were never meant
To hide their orbs in dark restraint;
Spite of all thou fain wouldst say,
Still in truant beams they play.
Thy lips—but here my modest Muse
Her impulse chaste must needs refuse:
She blushes, curtsies, frowns,—in short She
Dreads lest the Subject should transport me;
And flying off, in search of Reason,
Brings Prudence back in proper season.
All I shall, therefore, say (whate’er
I think, is neither here nor there,)
Is, that such lips, of looks endearing,
Were form’d for better things than sneering.
Of soothing compliments divested,
Advice at least’s disinterested;
Such is my artless song to thee,
From all the flow of Flatt’ry free;
Counsel like mine is as a brother’s,
My heart is given to some others;
That is to say, unskill’d to cozen,
It shares itself among a dozen.
Marion, adieu! oh, pr’ythee slight not
This warning, though it may delight not;
And, lest my precepts be displeasing,
To those who think remonstrance teazing,
At once I’ll tell thee our opinion,
Concerning Woman’s soft Dominion:
Howe’er we gaze, with admiration,
On eyes of blue or lips carnation;
Howe’er the flowing locks attract us,
Howe’er those beauties may distract us;
Still fickle, we are prone to rove,
These cannot fix our souls to love;
It is not too severe a stricture,
To say they form a pretty picture;
But would’st thou see the secret chain,
Which binds us in your humble train,
To hail you Queens of all Creation,
Know, in a word, ’tis Animation.
1.3k
i have given hearing
to deaf ferocious monsters
with well meaning incompetence
i have disturbed the reality
and illusion of human identity
where i am enmeshed
in insoluble confusions of difficulties
where i find strange images
touching on the grotesque
and ask what is myself
what are the guarantees
of my identity
by what right is a name possessed
by what means is my individuality secured
these questions in my mind
have a curiously derivative quality
that pretend to govern themselves
where they collaborate in their own oppression
and make assumptions upon
ethical behaviour and social institutions
which represent fictions rather than fact
function in a world of collapsing distinctions
of artificial precepts
where these now hearing monsters
with vicious energies of hate and ambition
that propel the enactment of intense
exhausting experience of a mind
spiraling vertiginously
toward an inner chaos that proclaims
I am myself alone without moral constraints
yet register vast predicaments
with the memorability of vivid language
but with an individual rapaciousness
that creates an amalgam of narratives
with the oppressive weight of the past
designed to induce this evaluative vertigo
with such ferocity to produce a turmoil of demons
monsters of evil, whose viciousness is vividly stamped
upon their bodies that declares
their fathomless malice sending my mind
into a cruelly disassembling nature
where i have given hearing
to deaf ferocious monsters
Jul 13, 2014
Jul 13, 2014 at 9:43 AM UTC
Lord, my soul with pleasure springs
When Jesu's name I hear:
And when God the Spirit brings
The word of promise near:
Beauties too, in holiness,
Still delighted I perceive;
Nor have words that can express
The joys Thy precepts give.
Clothed in sanctity and grace,
How sweet it is to see
Those who love Thee as they pass,
Or when they wait on Thee.
Pleasant too to sit and tell
What we owe to love Divine;
Till our bosoms grateful swell,
And eyes begin to shine.
Those the comforts I possess,
Which God shall still increase,
All His ways are pleasantness,
And all His paths are peace.
Nothing Jesus did or spoke,
Henceforth let me ever slight;
For I love His easy yoke,
And find His burden light.
1.1k
A stranger in atrophy, cringing bleak teeth
Erratic Discordian defeat
His reality painted in dismal dreams
A palette of cacophony
Nailed to shadows under his feet
Swallowed by lingering tears trapped in time's tyranny
Constrained to a chaotic labyrinth
Meandering in the shell of the mind
Anchored to the subtle precepts of the past
This phantom universe slips from his grasp
Apr 19, 2010
Apr 19, 2010 at 8:28 PM UTC
There once was a man
Who lived a "good" life
He worked through all trials
Temptation and strife
He lived very humbly
Never wished to be rich
Was good to his neighbours
Nothing bad passed his lips
He said, " God look at me!
I am worthy of praise!
I am without sin
But not by your grace...
For I am an atheist
And I don't need Christ
Humans provide
All their own good advice."
Then there was another
Who, quote, "lived for God"
But he looked upon sinners
as though they were odd...
He said, " God, I thank thee
That I'm not like them
For I walk uprightly
No, I do not sin...
And when I get to heaven
The praise shall be loud!
I'll walk right in
And I'll be so proud!"
Then there was a woman
Who'd give her last dime
That she could use drugs
And drink her sweet wine
But she cried, " Lord!
Please have mercy on me!
For I am so wretched!
So unworthy of thee!
I'm not all that clean
And I shout at folks
I drink and do drugs
And God help me, I smoke!
But, Lord, I am trying!
I want so much to change!
Please come into my heart
And my life rearrange..."
Then came the time
When all of them died
And the woman in heaven
Saw the men with such pride
In eternal torment
They cried out, "Lord!
We kept all your precepts
And sin we abhorred!
Why is that woman
Up there with you?
She so unfaithful
And she so untrue!
But Jesus said sadly,
"Yes, you were "good".
You had that advantage
Yet misunderstood.
I did not want works.
That's not what I bid.
*You gave not your **hearts,
But this woman DID***.
I was always there knocking
But death cut like a knife
I gave you your chance...
YOU HAD YOUR WHOLE LIFE.
SoulSurvivor
(c) 6/14/2009
Feb 22, 2016
Feb 22, 2016 at 12:01 PM UTC
Did you hear what that old man was thinking?
Morphic resonance is the experimental name,
I think we are served by nodes on a net
not spread in the sight of any bird,
a chthonic net of stone,
girdling the globe in granite, crystalline granite,
take it for granted, these boulders are the witnesses,
the scars of catastrophe,
causing us to wonder
how came this to be? Think Yosemite, Ansel Adams POV
Think Matterhorn und Mt.Blanc,
Old Rockytop, and
Dos Cabezas and Long Valley Mountain, all that granite,
old as earth.
Listen.
Time is the idea we share at the moment,
Earth's is the life we share at the same time.
This is Spaceship Earth, looping Sol as Sol loops Sirius,
and there is no mothership,
no resupply.
This is the only earth, it has survived several civilized
monstrosities. As you know, some mortals can't
imagine not surviving with it, so
we words of earthbound muse,
let slip the bands of pride in time to see,
we are the music,
we make beauty behave as will believes, voluntarily,
it seems,
we choose beauty with little de
liberation, no need to
unlock ledgers and boxes of known safe knowns,
we imagine ourselves
defying the
de-ified con instituted authorities warning,
given us, they swear by the very vicars of the oil:
We warn you…
hell's the price, they swear, that we,
the people, pay for heresy,
dare not think those-
no, no, nor hear and see, or never imagine thinking
a selfish thought,
one you find curiously comforting, for you, your idea,
but
stop…
one heresy breeds another,
soon we shall have a collective
of individual minds agreeing at once,
as all see a particular arranging of colors, in a sunset's
single effortless existence as a thing
with mortal mindable beauty,
did you belive the sunset, or may you, if you wish?
__ unravel, and re ravel to save the thread,
it has lead through the maze before,
I have a witness who tests ifies.
Great unquarried granite, but that forms another story
upon precepts as yet
unglued, un-coagulated, ah, curdled, precepts cultural
curdle and clump together.
Biomes are adjusting the rethinking of pathos,
ethos shall follow,
as night follows day, just wait.
Patience is formed from memes more than experience,
you bet the old man was not lying.
Slow and steady, wins the grace. Take it easy. Fade away…
Sep 19, 2020
Sep 19, 2020 at 5:03 PM UTC