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"provision" poems
*be ever gentle to thy words treat them, your tools, well, cleansing and protecting, wrapping them in cloths of chamois and moleskin that they may be well conditioned and pour forth with a temperament clear and viscous, reflecting their high honors and a noble lineage, they are well-intentioned to exist far longer than your meager temporal life, upon this ever hasty, ever perpetual, orbit give them all respect, their fair due, they are treasure immeasurable, for which you have been granted guardianship, custody received from others to be gifted onwards, yours, but for the duration so oft we trifle words, expel them from the country of our body, without passport and earnestness, as if they were the cheapest of footnote filler, day tourists, to be treated as leavings, refuse for daily discardation, barely noting their fast comings and faster disappearance, but leaving not, a mark of distinction more truffle than trifle, find them in the dark forest of your life, use them sparingly, just for soaring, take them from the roots of your trees, shave them with a paring knife, counts them in bites and measure them in grams, even in grains, for words are the seasoning of our lives, agent provacateurs that can modify the moment, bringing out to the fore the flavor of the underlying speak them slow and distinct, for they arrive slow to you, a trickling of refugees for your sheltering, harbor them as full companions, protected by natural law, provision them well, prepared and ever ready for a quick departure, moor them at the embarcadero, for the next restless leg of endlessness, which they themselves will inform you will last longer than eternity, long after there are no humans to speak them*
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Oct 10, 2015
Oct 10, 2015 at 6:01 PM UTC
oh poet! be ever gentle to thy words...
*be ever gentle to thy words treat them, your tools, well, cleansing and protecting, wrapping them in cloths of chamois and moleskin that they may be well conditioned and pour forth with a temperament clear and viscous, reflecting their high honors and a noble lineage, they are well-intentioned to exist far longer than your meager temporal life, upon this ever hasty, ever perpetual, orbit give them all respect, their fair due, they are treasure immeasurable, for which you have been granted guardianship, custody received from others to be gifted onwards, yours, but for the duration so oft we trifle words, expel them from the country of our body, without passport and earnestness, as if they were the cheapest of footnote filler, day tourists, to be treated as leavings, refuse for daily discardation, barely noting their fast comings and faster disappearance, but leaving not, a mark of distinction more truffle than trifle, find them in the dark forest of your life, use them sparingly, just for soaring, take them from the roots of your trees, shave them with a paring knife, counts them in bites and measure them in grams, even in grains, for words are the seasoning of our lives, agent provacateurs that can modify the moment, bringing out to the fore the flavor of the underlying speak them slow and distinct, for they arrive slow to you, a trickling of refugees for your sheltering, harbor them as full companions, protected by natural law, provision them well, prepared and ever ready for a quick departure, moor them at the embarcadero, for the next restless leg of endlessness, which they themselves will inform you will last longer than eternity, long after there are no humans to speak them*
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46
*let the sun beat down upon my face, stars to fill my dream i am a traveler of both time and space, to be where I have been to sit with elders of the gentle race, this world has seldom seen they talk of days for which they sit and wait and all will be revealed talk and song from tongues of lilting grace, whose sounds caress my ear but not a word I heard could I relate, the story was quite clear all I see turns to brown, as the sun burns the ground and my eyes fill with sand, as I scan this wasted land trying to find where I've been pilot of the storm who leaves no trace, like thoughts inside a dream heed the path that led me to that place, yellow desert stream my Shangri-La beneath the summer moon, I will return again sure as the dust that floats high in June, when moving through Kashmir oh, father of the four winds, fill my sails, across the sea of years With no provision but an open face, along the straits of fear let me take you there*
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Dec 12, 2014
Dec 12, 2014 at 2:19 PM UTC
Kashmir
You're giving me love When I feel unlove You're giving me peace When I'm in chaos You're giving me joy When I'm unhappy You're giving me comfort When I'm in pain You're giving me provision When I have nothing You're giving me strength When I feel weak How grateful I am Having someone to lean on Hoping that You'll see me Having a grateful heart.
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Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 6:02 AM UTC
A Grateful Heart
And I said to the man who stood at the gate of the year: “Give me a light that I may tread safely into the unknown.” And he replied: “Go out into the darkness and put your hand into the Hand of God. That shall be to you better than light and safer than a known way.” So I went forth, and finding the Hand of God, trod gladly into the night. And He led me towards the hills and the breaking of day in the lone East. So heart be still: What need our little life Our human life to know, If God hath comprehension? In all the dizzy strife Of things both high and low, God hideth His intention. God knows. His will Is best. The stretch of years Which wind ahead, so dim To our imperfect vision, Are clear to God. Our fears Are premature; In Him, All time hath full provision. Then rest: until God moves to lift the veil From our impatient eyes, When, as the sweeter features Of Life’s stern face we hail, Fair beyond all surmise God’s thought around His creatures Our mind shall fill.
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Dec 31, 2016
Dec 31, 2016 at 7:33 AM UTC
God Knows by M.L.Haskins (1908)
Ah, the season of gifting. Antagonist of year-long thrifting. Tradition sadistic, Materialistic, Four quarters in pockets worth sifting. This year I hereby proclaim I shan’t be consumed by the game. Cycle of curse Purpose perverse The namesake, an oversight became. Christ’s birth did in fact begin, Holiday distracted by sin. Misguided it be To forget idly The sacrifice He made for all men. We naively regard generosity As holiday’s behavioral piosity. But if dollars and cents Are the tools of offense Over shadow favor luminosity. Water in Africa is ***** American child in poverty. Politics aside, Convenient homicide, To enable the ills of society. In the global economy we flaunt Wealth by comparison, bitter taunt. First world problems abound Pass the turkey around Central heating and air, what a jaunt! What if this season we decide To extend two palms open wide? Sacrificing ourselves Rather than stocking our shelves Dying whispers echo true: “we tried.” Don’t spend your money on me this year. Not iPhones, not tickets, not Blu-ray or beer. Instead know you can Distribute more than A snort, a lie, and a tear. (optional conclusion to assist interpretation of last line) Snort of derision, Lies of provision, Tears, even true, Hardly subdue Anguish deprived of tradition’s revision.
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Dec 26, 2012
Dec 26, 2012 at 5:25 PM UTC
Stewardship (a series of limericks)
He had drifted in among us as a straw drifts with the tide, He was just a wand'ring mongrel from the weary world outside; He was not aristocratic, being mostly ribs and hair, With a hint of spaniel parents and a touch of native bear He was very poor and humble and content with what he got, So we fed him bones and biscuits, till he heartened up a lot; Then he growled and grew aggressive, treating orders with disdain, Till at last he bit the butcher, which would argue want of brain. Now the butcher, noble fellow, was a sport beyond belief, And instead of bringing actions he brought half a shin of beef, Which he handed on to Fido, who received it as a right And removed it to the garden, where he buried it at night. 'Twas the means of his undoing, for my wife, who'd stood his friend, To adopt a slang expression, "went in off the deepest end", For among the pinks and pansies, the gloxinias and the gorse He had made an excavation like a graveyard for a horse. Then we held a consultation which decided on his fate: 'Twas in anger more than sorrow that we led him to the gate, And we handed him the beef-bone as provision for the day, Then we opened wide the portal and we told him, "On your way."
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8.4k
A Dog's Mistake [In Doggerel Verse]
I have learned from father and brother-in-law, How not to treat wives, Provision is not a chore, It is maintaining dear lives.
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Oct 16, 2013
Oct 16, 2013 at 7:15 AM UTC
The New Husband.
Wet season becomes dry But dryness is not permanent; It's a test. And when one embrace the vision, There will be a provision Unto him, due to his higher calling. There is a revival An awakening of the soul There, justice shall submerge And it shall be a payback time. For to where a revelation lies, There will be power and inspiration And the keys to the multitudes: Faith, prayer and obedience.
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Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 4:36 AM UTC
Season
a quote of Bernard-Henri Lévy ~~~ the divers’ recovery, diverse, shipwrecked salvage from different locations, auctioned to the highest bidder, tho the excised excerpts are exceptional, none come to do the bidding, for the provenance of words belongs to all, and to none ~~ “so oft we trifle words, expel them from the country of our body, without passport and earnestness, as if they were the cheapest of footnote filler, day tourists, to be treated as leavings, refuse for daily discardation, barely noting their fast comings and faster disappearance, but leaving not, a mark of distinction” “the addicted pleasure words granted to we privileged few, like every enslaved soul to the mind, which I am, I am, evening dreams, midnight thinkings, sunrise seeings, how can I infect and thus protect the young to the liberty to love the crafted content of our human essence to better comprehend that a moment caught on tape of our shared words is a holiday, a celebration for the ages...and every molecule, becomes a human tuning fork in concert, in pitch identical, in blood tainted with the simplicity of we are all the same, only words, this will transmit” “murmur me, with soft downy charms, these words discovered recoursed and intended well to pointedly offset and contradict their very own tumultuous discovery uncovering, tear tongue me with calming, lapping word  wages, hymns harmonious and fine homilies, a call, a request, a bequest to sedate my shrill life “some cells, microscopic, preserved digitally, aged to imperfection, thrash my eyes, making me speak in tongues I do not recognize, but fluently possess, no wonder there, the memory place fairly empty, room aplenty for passerby's and the imagery                                                          ­ of the vaguest of dearly departed skin is not the only mot shed,                                                 sloughing of woeful words” “speak them slow and distinct, for they arrive slow to you, a trickling of refugees for your sheltering, harbor them as full companions, protected by natural law, provision them well, prepared and ever ready for a quick departure, moor these words at the embarcadero, for the next restless leg of endlessness, which they themselves will inform you will last longer than eternity, long after there are no humans to speak them”
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Mar 27, 2019
Mar 27, 2019 at 4:55 AM UTC
“diving into the depths of my words”
a quote of Bernard-Henri Lévy ~~~ the divers’ recovery, diverse, shipwrecked salvage from different locations, auctioned to the highest bidder, tho the excised excerpts are exceptional, none come to do the bidding, for the provenance of words belongs to all, and to none ~~ “so oft we trifle words, expel them from the country of our body, without passport and earnestness, as if they were the cheapest of footnote filler, day tourists, to be treated as leavings, refuse for daily discardation, barely noting their fast comings and faster disappearance, but leaving not, a mark of distinction” “the addicted pleasure words granted to we privileged few, like every enslaved soul to the mind, which I am, I am, evening dreams, midnight thinkings, sunrise seeings, how can I infect and thus protect the young to the liberty to love the crafted content of our human essence to better comprehend that a moment caught on tape of our shared words is a holiday, a celebration for the ages...and every molecule, becomes a human tuning fork in concert, in pitch identical, in blood tainted with the simplicity of we are all the same, only words, this will transmit” “murmur me, with soft downy charms, these words discovered recoursed and intended well to pointedly offset and contradict their very own tumultuous discovery uncovering, tear tongue me with calming, lapping word  wages, hymns harmonious and fine homilies, a call, a request, a bequest to sedate my shrill life “some cells, microscopic, preserved digitally, aged to imperfection, thrash my eyes, making me speak in tongues I do not recognize, but fluently possess, no wonder there, the memory place fairly empty, room aplenty for passerby's and the imagery                                                          ­ of the vaguest of dearly departed skin is not the only mot shed,                                                 sloughing of woeful words” “speak them slow and distinct, for they arrive slow to you, a trickling of refugees for your sheltering, harbor them as full companions, protected by natural law, provision them well, prepared and ever ready for a quick departure, moor these words at the embarcadero, for the next restless leg of endlessness, which they themselves will inform you will last longer than eternity, long after there are no humans to speak them”
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58
I watched the water rise. Creeping down the muddy street. As if a divine force was attempting a stealthy act of insurrection. I didn't have the heart to fight it. Had I only known. I watched Hell's Half Acre silently succumb to the whimsical (however so pleasantly devastating) path of Gaea. Through this empowering incident I felt redemption like I never had before. I jumped down from the platform of the livestock pen to personally welcome the satisfying force of nature's purification. The water lashed out and grabbed my leg. At that moment my jubilate spirit spoiled to uncontaminated terror. It was not a redemptive Spirit winding its way through the rail tracks but the serpent Lucifer. Had I only known. And so in the West Bottoms Tavern I found myself under the ***** shoe of The Machine. A wayward phantom rising from our precarious Kansas River. It drifts through the sweet Midwest like the coal black locomotive smoke that paints a suffocating thick haze above the Stockyards. A welcome slate of provision. A shelter covering us from the racial tension and poverty smothering the outside world. To those in the Bottoms with unruly desires, a saviour. To those at City Hall with loose morals, the messiah. And it was at 1908, I nervously pulled the covers over my vulnerable body and sealed Satan's foul kiss with a diabolical red scrawl. We skipped hand in hand through the freshly paved streets of our "wide open" town. I always tried my best to look the other way but I knew full well that I travelled with a gang of thieves. Nonetheless, everyone votes in our town. A brutal party whip keeps the Jackson County Democrats in line and "Charlie the *** prevents any Rabbits from multiplying. But I've been working from within the belly of a "whale" for years and I fear we've now run out of ocean. Our arranged marriage has robbed my capacity for faithful navigation. I'm seeking a radical divorce from The Beast, the cost has become inconsequential to me. So I found genuine redemption. Finally. I closed the driver side door to my sedan and walked out to the edge of the bridge. The water below seemed whimsical (and so pleasantly devastating) in nature, much the same as it had 36 years ago. I pinned this note to the window, and with a Ready-Mixed Concrete block tied around my waist I watched the water rise.
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Oct 25, 2018
Oct 25, 2018 at 9:47 PM UTC
Tom's Town
I watched the water rise. Creeping down the muddy street. As if a divine force was attempting a stealthy act of insurrection. I didn't have the heart to fight it. Had I only known. I watched Hell's Half Acre silently succumb to the whimsical (however so pleasantly devastating) path of Gaea. Through this empowering incident I felt redemption like I never had before. I jumped down from the platform of the livestock pen to personally welcome the satisfying force of nature's purification. The water lashed out and grabbed my leg. At that moment my jubilate spirit spoiled to uncontaminated terror. It was not a redemptive Spirit winding its way through the rail tracks but the serpent Lucifer. Had I only known. And so in the West Bottoms Tavern I found myself under the ***** shoe of The Machine. A wayward phantom rising from our precarious Kansas River. It drifts through the sweet Midwest like the coal black locomotive smoke that paints a suffocating thick haze above the Stockyards. A welcome slate of provision. A shelter covering us from the racial tension and poverty smothering the outside world. To those in the Bottoms with unruly desires, a saviour. To those at City Hall with loose morals, the messiah. And it was at 1908, I nervously pulled the covers over my vulnerable body and sealed Satan's foul kiss with a diabolical red scrawl. We skipped hand in hand through the freshly paved streets of our "wide open" town. I always tried my best to look the other way but I knew full well that I travelled with a gang of thieves. Nonetheless, everyone votes in our town. A brutal party whip keeps the Jackson County Democrats in line and "Charlie the *** prevents any Rabbits from multiplying. But I've been working from within the belly of a "whale" for years and I fear we've now run out of ocean. Our arranged marriage has robbed my capacity for faithful navigation. I'm seeking a radical divorce from The Beast, the cost has become inconsequential to me. So I found genuine redemption. Finally. I closed the driver side door to my sedan and walked out to the edge of the bridge. The water below seemed whimsical (and so pleasantly devastating) in nature, much the same as it had 36 years ago. I pinned this note to the window, and with a Ready-Mixed Concrete block tied around my waist I watched the water rise.
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9
You are an angel sent from heaven to us You are a gift for which we are grateful and by which we're blessed There is a purpose a plan a place just for you The world had a need and from the beginning God knew The perfect time the perfect family to raise you as their own To look back ta amazing to see how much you've grown From the little baby girl to the young woman you are today For all the missions throughout time and for you I dare to pray That you would know God's providence and provision The Lord provided us with you and now to the world given By your love and your light to you they shall be drawn Hold them close and take them in let them hear your heartsong You are a gift from heaven sent down upon the earth To show every man woman and child what a human life is worth For this and many other reasons I think of you at night And ask the Lord to hold you close and keep you always in his sight.
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Feb 6, 2016
Feb 6, 2016 at 1:39 AM UTC
You are a Gift
May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be pleasing in your sight, LORD, my Rock and my Redeemer. Good Morning Beloved It is good to be among you this morning. Let us pray…. Gracious Lord As we sojourn the pathways of life You have brought us to the places Of ecstatic splendorous peaks You have blessed us with resounding joys You have filled us with good things The grace of your unconditional love Is made manifest in the abundant life you have promised to all your children We bless you Lord for your provision And your unfailing unrequited love You have also humbled us Lord With times of perplexing trial, deep sorrows and pointed loss Our earthly journey has led us to places of dread, devastation sickness and pending death Our plans and aspirations Have turned to dust Our eyes fill with tears Our crestfallen hearts have hardened We fail to receive the balm of love We have been routed We have lost the battle We have been conquered by separation, sin and despair The spirit of life Has evaporated From our bodies All that remains Are dry bones Scattered in the valley of death hidden by the shadows In the nadir of our lives Yet your abiding love remains the strong Present Helper calling us to your light May we rise from our Afflictions as Lazarus did when called by his beloved friend Jesus May your grace anoint Our ears with the sound of The Great Resurrectors voice May you stir our hearts With the wisdom of your will May you bless our lips With the grace of prophecy That we may Prophesy to the broken And brittle bones of our lives Prophecy to the bones so they may be joined With sinew and flesh again May your words Become flesh May we walk again In the land of the living And rejoin the beloved At the table of Your abundant grace In The Good Deliver's Name We pray... Selah Music: Eric Dolphy, Come Sunday Readings, Ezekiel 37 The Valley of Dry Bones, John 11, The Death of Lazarus Prayer of the Dry Bones Faith Lutheran Church Lavallette NJ 4th Sunday in Lent 4/2/17
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Apr 6, 2017
Apr 6, 2017 at 12:07 PM UTC
Prayer of Dry Bones
May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be pleasing in your sight, LORD, my Rock and my Redeemer. Good Morning Beloved It is good to be among you this morning. Let us pray…. Gracious Lord As we sojourn the pathways of life You have brought us to the places Of ecstatic splendorous peaks You have blessed us with resounding joys You have filled us with good things The grace of your unconditional love Is made manifest in the abundant life you have promised to all your children We bless you Lord for your provision And your unfailing unrequited love You have also humbled us Lord With times of perplexing trial, deep sorrows and pointed loss Our earthly journey has led us to places of dread, devastation sickness and pending death Our plans and aspirations Have turned to dust Our eyes fill with tears Our crestfallen hearts have hardened We fail to receive the balm of love We have been routed We have lost the battle We have been conquered by separation, sin and despair The spirit of life Has evaporated From our bodies All that remains Are dry bones Scattered in the valley of death hidden by the shadows In the nadir of our lives Yet your abiding love remains the strong Present Helper calling us to your light May we rise from our Afflictions as Lazarus did when called by his beloved friend Jesus May your grace anoint Our ears with the sound of The Great Resurrectors voice May you stir our hearts With the wisdom of your will May you bless our lips With the grace of prophecy That we may Prophesy to the broken And brittle bones of our lives Prophecy to the bones so they may be joined With sinew and flesh again May your words Become flesh May we walk again In the land of the living And rejoin the beloved At the table of Your abundant grace In The Good Deliver's Name We pray... Selah Music: Eric Dolphy, Come Sunday Readings, Ezekiel 37 The Valley of Dry Bones, John 11, The Death of Lazarus Prayer of the Dry Bones Faith Lutheran Church Lavallette NJ 4th Sunday in Lent 4/2/17
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86
The world is filled with division Resulting in endless collision Because we fail to envision. We only use literal vision Without a second of indecision We jump to rash decision And attempt to imprison Those who caused the division Without giving revision To our lack of precision. resulting in misprision Which only adds to collision And the terrible decision To access our nuclear provision
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Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 1:48 AM UTC
The Excision and Recision Of All Good Supervision
*je pense bien à toi (i think well of you) Have not chatted in awhile, me rutted in NYC, a city of constant tear down and sometimes flashy urban human renewal... While you, you getting on with life, growing up, growing down, buying clothes for a new school season, or growing children, or boxing up now grandchildren memories of memories... falling in love, writing poetry all about it... You, in Nepal, Malaysia, India, Seattle, Portland, and the Florida's panhandle, the US Midwest sainted hinterlands, the South, that makes one love water, water that has travelled from the faraway, island continent of professorial Australia, Did I forget the Philippines? worse sin committed, is that in your poetry I have not toe dipped, quite the long erstwhile, after loving it with obsession devotion... so just a Saturday afternoon note penned just to you and you alone... je pense bien à toi (i think well of you) So by way of apology, craft a poem for you exclusive, more than each word, letter, every syllable, tongue tasted for conjuctivity, breadth and thus discovered notes of red soil, raspberry, lemon, even a hint of sweet masquerading as a salty kindness in our veins, our unique vintage of connectivity Your hand to my lips raised, grasped twice, by mine both, slow lifting with stature, affection and respect, kiss it and whisper just enough for we two to hear... je pense bien à toi (i think well of you) even this seems weakly insufficient, but care taken nowadays, a new economy of words, write less, think more, and give up the truly deserved words only as a mark of my fondness and respect these come on no schedule, often months in the making, so forgive-me-not my unsweetened silences, accept them with easy knowing that je pense bien à toi (i think well of you) the summer man wintered in discontent, his journey now disrupted by forces exogenous, stealing his vision, jailing him in between walls of indecision, knocking down his own twin towers, but carelessly not making provision to tell you well and often enough je pense bien à toi (i think well of you)* Sept. 13, 2014
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Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 3:10 PM UTC
je pense bien à toi (i think well of you)
*je pense bien à toi (i think well of you) Have not chatted in awhile, me rutted in NYC, a city of constant tear down and sometimes flashy urban human renewal... While you, you getting on with life, growing up, growing down, buying clothes for a new school season, or growing children, or boxing up now grandchildren memories of memories... falling in love, writing poetry all about it... You, in Nepal, Malaysia, India, Seattle, Portland, and the Florida's panhandle, the US Midwest sainted hinterlands, the South, that makes one love water, water that has travelled from the faraway, island continent of professorial Australia, Did I forget the Philippines? worse sin committed, is that in your poetry I have not toe dipped, quite the long erstwhile, after loving it with obsession devotion... so just a Saturday afternoon note penned just to you and you alone... je pense bien à toi (i think well of you) So by way of apology, craft a poem for you exclusive, more than each word, letter, every syllable, tongue tasted for conjuctivity, breadth and thus discovered notes of red soil, raspberry, lemon, even a hint of sweet masquerading as a salty kindness in our veins, our unique vintage of connectivity Your hand to my lips raised, grasped twice, by mine both, slow lifting with stature, affection and respect, kiss it and whisper just enough for we two to hear... je pense bien à toi (i think well of you) even this seems weakly insufficient, but care taken nowadays, a new economy of words, write less, think more, and give up the truly deserved words only as a mark of my fondness and respect these come on no schedule, often months in the making, so forgive-me-not my unsweetened silences, accept them with easy knowing that je pense bien à toi (i think well of you) the summer man wintered in discontent, his journey now disrupted by forces exogenous, stealing his vision, jailing him in between walls of indecision, knocking down his own twin towers, but carelessly not making provision to tell you well and often enough je pense bien à toi (i think well of you)* Sept. 13, 2014
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73
Collaboration with Alyssa Underwood! *I'm not getting much from life, it makes me want to scream! Won't achieve my smallest goal... let alone my dreams!*. **Your life's hidden in Christ's hands and your competence comes from Him. His Spirit's working His purpose in you... despite how things may seem.**. *I'm frail and I'm weak, I'm sorry. I'm not strong. You say I can handle this test... You couldn't be more wrong!*. **Frailty's the best start for watching our egos flee. Once we know WE can't do it... we begin to get set free.**. *I am sick and tired of the daily drudge! And fellow believers? All they do is JUDGE!*. **So lay it all down. Jesus died to bear the indomitable weight... of every burden you wear.**. *Does God answer prayers? I wonder if HE DOES! If you go and backslide He seems to hold a grudge!*. **I find He answers differently than what I might seek first, for what's pleasant now... May not fill my deepest thirst.**. *Alright. He makes us patient. But I can believe the lies! He has no provision to make me savvy... WISE!*. **If wisdom like the world is what the soul most craves, where's the contentment... in those who are its slaves?** *The believer is the candle Jesus is the flame. Thank you sister for your help... I'm calling on His Name! I will heed your sayings. I have been absurd! He's good to all His promises... They're written in HIS WORD.*. **It's not absurd to question or probe into our doubts. HIS WORD can stand resistance... through every skeptic's shouts. We're here to help each other find truth along the way. JESUS IS THE WAY AND TRUTH AND LIFE WE LIVE EACH DAY! Alyssa Underwood  (the voice of Truth)**. SoulSurvivor  (the doubtful believer)
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Jan 5, 2016
Jan 5, 2016 at 7:59 PM UTC
Fear vs Faith
Collaboration with Alyssa Underwood! *I'm not getting much from life, it makes me want to scream! Won't achieve my smallest goal... let alone my dreams!*. **Your life's hidden in Christ's hands and your competence comes from Him. His Spirit's working His purpose in you... despite how things may seem.**. *I'm frail and I'm weak, I'm sorry. I'm not strong. You say I can handle this test... You couldn't be more wrong!*. **Frailty's the best start for watching our egos flee. Once we know WE can't do it... we begin to get set free.**. *I am sick and tired of the daily drudge! And fellow believers? All they do is JUDGE!*. **So lay it all down. Jesus died to bear the indomitable weight... of every burden you wear.**. *Does God answer prayers? I wonder if HE DOES! If you go and backslide He seems to hold a grudge!*. **I find He answers differently than what I might seek first, for what's pleasant now... May not fill my deepest thirst.**. *Alright. He makes us patient. But I can believe the lies! He has no provision to make me savvy... WISE!*. **If wisdom like the world is what the soul most craves, where's the contentment... in those who are its slaves?** *The believer is the candle Jesus is the flame. Thank you sister for your help... I'm calling on His Name! I will heed your sayings. I have been absurd! He's good to all His promises... They're written in HIS WORD.*. **It's not absurd to question or probe into our doubts. HIS WORD can stand resistance... through every skeptic's shouts. We're here to help each other find truth along the way. JESUS IS THE WAY AND TRUTH AND LIFE WE LIVE EACH DAY! Alyssa Underwood  (the voice of Truth)**. SoulSurvivor  (the doubtful believer)
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59
The power of resources beyond lack Filling up every vacuum of want What could we ever ask? When there’s provision for what we need not yet In Heaven’s Economy Peace that passes understanding Erasing the fear of depression With enough confidence to face tomorrow Provided through the network of faith Heavens' Economy Where the existence of famine is not recognized Even the least budget is well organized Its treasures are incorruptible And only by faith is it accessible Reserved for the people in His kingdom Managed by His wisdom Heaven’s economy, powered by God.
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Apr 9, 2016
Apr 9, 2016 at 1:12 AM UTC
HEAVENS' ECONOMY
Oh, sweet disposition We seem to have opposing opinions On most of your past decisions Back when we played different positions In all of our parallel missions We're trapped within mental prisons Stuck keeping each other closer than a distance Oh, sweetest disposition You have the most striking persistence Wouldn't count on you a single provision No need for alcohol, drunk off you in any instance And your silhouette blurs my vision When you go missin' You know who I'm missin' My bittersweet disposition
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May 7, 2013
May 7, 2013 at 5:06 PM UTC
Sweetest Disposition
These words that I am speaking are not my own. No, they come from the Heavenly Father seated on His Heavenly throne. Hallowed be Your name, Father! Hallowed be Your name. Father, grace. Father, spirit. Father, power. Father, peace. This is what the Father says, "Be still, child. Be still. You can feel the undertow tugging and pulling not knowing which way the water will go and there is a wave coming a towering wave a rushing wave a crashing wave a tidal wave but do not be afraid. The water's safe. Come walk on it. For this wave is not what it seems. No, this is a wave of blessing and people and provision coming your way this is a wave of overcoming and victory and answered prayers this is a wave that will sweep you off your feet, toss you around in its waters leaving you breathless and gasping at My faithfulness and love everlasting So you'd better be ready and brace yourselves, this wave is coming. Be ready. Leave your doors wide open and your doorstep clean for I am sending you prodigal sons the lost, the broken ones. I am leading them back to Me. For I am Love and this, this is love: That I have loved and traded My kingdom for your sins and My wealth for your filth. Because I am Love and My love never runs out. Be ready for the return of your brothers and your sisters, be ready with open doors and open arms, be ready for a wave of those who need patching up. Be ready for them. Do you hear the rain? Smell it. Taste it. Feel it. Like the rain that pours without end, I will open the floodgates of heaven and pour out so much blessing your storehouses will overflow and your hands won't be ready to catch the next one so never worry about what you will eat or drink or wear For I am Jehovah Jireh and I am more than enough. Be ready for downpour. Rise, youth. Your time is now. Don't tell Me you are too young too inexperienced too busy or too scared. I will take your weaknesses and make my strength perfect in them, I will give you the wisdom and faith you need, I will make you into the leaders I've called you to be. Don't worry about what you will say to them, for I will put the words in your mouth, and the seeds in their hearts. My plans never fail, child, so enough with the doubts, enough with the fears, your time is now. Be ready for the youth. A wave of breakthrough is coming straight at you and don't you for one second cringe in fear. Don't you be afraid of the wave coming, Don't you whimper when I lead you to walk upon deeper waters, just listen to my still, small voice, child, and follow it. Don't you for one second let your faith falter just trust in your Father and you'd better get ready and brace yourselves because this wave is going to blow you away."
0
Jun 16, 2013
Jun 16, 2013 at 7:48 AM UTC
They Come Like Floods
These words that I am speaking are not my own. No, they come from the Heavenly Father seated on His Heavenly throne. Hallowed be Your name, Father! Hallowed be Your name. Father, grace. Father, spirit. Father, power. Father, peace. This is what the Father says, "Be still, child. Be still. You can feel the undertow tugging and pulling not knowing which way the water will go and there is a wave coming a towering wave a rushing wave a crashing wave a tidal wave but do not be afraid. The water's safe. Come walk on it. For this wave is not what it seems. No, this is a wave of blessing and people and provision coming your way this is a wave of overcoming and victory and answered prayers this is a wave that will sweep you off your feet, toss you around in its waters leaving you breathless and gasping at My faithfulness and love everlasting So you'd better be ready and brace yourselves, this wave is coming. Be ready. Leave your doors wide open and your doorstep clean for I am sending you prodigal sons the lost, the broken ones. I am leading them back to Me. For I am Love and this, this is love: That I have loved and traded My kingdom for your sins and My wealth for your filth. Because I am Love and My love never runs out. Be ready for the return of your brothers and your sisters, be ready with open doors and open arms, be ready for a wave of those who need patching up. Be ready for them. Do you hear the rain? Smell it. Taste it. Feel it. Like the rain that pours without end, I will open the floodgates of heaven and pour out so much blessing your storehouses will overflow and your hands won't be ready to catch the next one so never worry about what you will eat or drink or wear For I am Jehovah Jireh and I am more than enough. Be ready for downpour. Rise, youth. Your time is now. Don't tell Me you are too young too inexperienced too busy or too scared. I will take your weaknesses and make my strength perfect in them, I will give you the wisdom and faith you need, I will make you into the leaders I've called you to be. Don't worry about what you will say to them, for I will put the words in your mouth, and the seeds in their hearts. My plans never fail, child, so enough with the doubts, enough with the fears, your time is now. Be ready for the youth. A wave of breakthrough is coming straight at you and don't you for one second cringe in fear. Don't you be afraid of the wave coming, Don't you whimper when I lead you to walk upon deeper waters, just listen to my still, small voice, child, and follow it. Don't you for one second let your faith falter just trust in your Father and you'd better get ready and brace yourselves because this wave is going to blow you away."
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give us this day our daily bread and lead us not into the toilet for carbs are calories and so is time this is my body (said bread) broken for you take, eat, and remember i take, eat, and regurgitate i purge your purging of my sins for bread is not safe but are you?
0
Sep 7, 2025
Sep 7, 2025 at 12:16 PM UTC
prayer for provision
Autism prays for... Chuck E. Cheese Maya and Miguel Huey, Dewey, and Louie Mom and Dad Pizza rolls Subway sandwiches Grannie Greeney phantom dogs, the Brady Bunch His greatness His provision and comedy cartoons to watch all day. Amen
0
May 31, 2014
May 31, 2014 at 8:18 PM UTC
Autism Prays
my glasses have been coloured with hedonistic hue, through this new vision, i enjoy the inner view. lust is a must, for which i have made some provision, helps me attain pleasure, of his feminine creation. the ******* train, hitting my brain, taking away the societal pain, i have no pants, i have no shame. i invite you all to my heathen mansion, to taste the roasted swine, i may not be there, as i plan on  enjoying my women and wine.
0
Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 5:09 AM UTC
Hedonistic View
~ *prelude. did you know that English stands alone as a written language requiring the capitalization of the word "I"... yet makes no similar provision for “we” or “us; a sad statement of self inflation.  it was after learning this that i abandoned the rule in my own poetry.* ~ my i’s averted, lowered, diverted, reduced in size, an exercise of large proportions; breaking down the me-isms, finding room for we-isms, to take the larger place; create an i for seeing, the case for simple, smaller being; no need to punctuate, instead eliminate this compulsion to inflate; ’tis my i-drop moment, my i-reducing ointment, these pupils are dilated, deflating i and me, enlarging we and thee; finding that in i-reduction, the eyes are widely opened, thus to better see, what i really need to be.
0
Oct 10, 2016
Oct 10, 2016 at 12:49 PM UTC
a case for i drops
Christian Louboutin Black Nevertheless the price range available at them is sometimes not affordable from the normal working class of people. Christian louboutin wedding Absolutely nothing to get worried about,with the introduction of Christian louboutin available in the market one can get each of the features of the Christian louboutin at attractive discount prices.The Christian louboutin incorporates most of the excellent features of the original brand. Louboutin are identified by the signature tag of a glossy red sole. Louboutin also imitates this red sole tag thus giving an exact look of the original brand. Most of the times, Christian louboutin outlet people are worried about the qualities of such louboutin products.However, someone can go for Christian louboutin UK online shops while making such purchases. Special care is taken in plenty of time of manufacturing those Christian louboutin UK. red bottom heels Factors like the proper inclination of the heel, the quality of the Christian louboutin UK are perfectly taken into account. Thus, Christian Louboutin Outlet one can get the pride of wearing the Christian louboutin UK at a much lower cost. The wide and exciting range of Christian louboutin shoes will surely captivate the hearts of all the fashion trendy people. Someone can look into the online catalogue for different styles and colors. Christian louboutin shoes will surely be a wise decision to make. Christian louboutin sale designs created a benchmark in the world of designer footwear. Christian Louboutin Christian louboutin are worldwide famous for its quality and amazing stylish designs. In today’s generation, people like to experiment with colors and designs. Christian Louboutin SaleThe provision of louboutin, in various colors and an extraordinary offbeat collection of designs, has made Christian louboutin UK popular among the fashionable crowd. red bottom shoes for women Now, one can choose from a wide range of several innovative and inventive varieties of Christian louboutin shoes.
0
Feb 23, 2012
Feb 23, 2012 at 1:04 AM UTC
One particular necessity make sure that she’s managing true find red bottom heels
Christian Louboutin Black Nevertheless the price range available at them is sometimes not affordable from the normal working class of people. Christian louboutin wedding Absolutely nothing to get worried about,with the introduction of Christian louboutin available in the market one can get each of the features of the Christian louboutin at attractive discount prices.The Christian louboutin incorporates most of the excellent features of the original brand. Louboutin are identified by the signature tag of a glossy red sole. Louboutin also imitates this red sole tag thus giving an exact look of the original brand. Most of the times, Christian louboutin outlet people are worried about the qualities of such louboutin products.However, someone can go for Christian louboutin UK online shops while making such purchases. Special care is taken in plenty of time of manufacturing those Christian louboutin UK. red bottom heels Factors like the proper inclination of the heel, the quality of the Christian louboutin UK are perfectly taken into account. Thus, Christian Louboutin Outlet one can get the pride of wearing the Christian louboutin UK at a much lower cost. The wide and exciting range of Christian louboutin shoes will surely captivate the hearts of all the fashion trendy people. Someone can look into the online catalogue for different styles and colors. Christian louboutin shoes will surely be a wise decision to make. Christian louboutin sale designs created a benchmark in the world of designer footwear. Christian Louboutin Christian louboutin are worldwide famous for its quality and amazing stylish designs. In today’s generation, people like to experiment with colors and designs. Christian Louboutin SaleThe provision of louboutin, in various colors and an extraordinary offbeat collection of designs, has made Christian louboutin UK popular among the fashionable crowd. red bottom shoes for women Now, one can choose from a wide range of several innovative and inventive varieties of Christian louboutin shoes.
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1
Straight lines bound the edges, while it became necessary to spend the anchor of time lost in the twisting patterns slowly darkening to supply the molecules which provided scenery. The character was divided between a wolf and the hiker towering at the pinnacle of the hill to gaze above the head of the beast across to the vista of the trail. Roses bloomed, and the ink was done, to dry while color trickled in a world comprised through streams of shivering light reflected from the mountain, a flower raised by the frivolous event of cataclysmic times; the hatchet carved its cliffs to make a face of empty granite and the soul of the rock. The delay created a great offer, considered by erosion, but the hesitation defied the smoothing influence of climates and their ages. The rise killed the enthusiasms of the hiking spirit, reconstituting the problem, and the messenger of hilarity was never less welcome than when enthusiastic about the confusion of lost victims. Always a few of these were in the scenes along the shimmering trails with their names that changed at inconvenient turning points until travelers were anxious to go through the door into the chalet with its green carpet of moss. The discount welcomed them, inside, yet there was no great pile of money and nothing was purchased. Instead, after the warmth set in, showing determination, the man with the pack returned to life on the wild edge of the land. After a command to the sharp creature that had been pacified by the impressive displays of civilization, the walker began to trek, and the wandering dog felt self respect, the beginning of membership. So, they belonged to the range, and the traders had plans to provision them by means of a system of values arrived to demonstrate available necessities and equities conceived in the course of bargaining. This general aspiration was accompanied by the taciturn response thought to be more pleasant than the argument and ill will. Prosperity had been created by serving fate and nature rather than by transferring property to a singular pit. The result was an expectation of good deals and reliable assistance.
0
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 6:37 PM UTC
The State Of A Trading Post
Straight lines bound the edges, while it became necessary to spend the anchor of time lost in the twisting patterns slowly darkening to supply the molecules which provided scenery. The character was divided between a wolf and the hiker towering at the pinnacle of the hill to gaze above the head of the beast across to the vista of the trail. Roses bloomed, and the ink was done, to dry while color trickled in a world comprised through streams of shivering light reflected from the mountain, a flower raised by the frivolous event of cataclysmic times; the hatchet carved its cliffs to make a face of empty granite and the soul of the rock. The delay created a great offer, considered by erosion, but the hesitation defied the smoothing influence of climates and their ages. The rise killed the enthusiasms of the hiking spirit, reconstituting the problem, and the messenger of hilarity was never less welcome than when enthusiastic about the confusion of lost victims. Always a few of these were in the scenes along the shimmering trails with their names that changed at inconvenient turning points until travelers were anxious to go through the door into the chalet with its green carpet of moss. The discount welcomed them, inside, yet there was no great pile of money and nothing was purchased. Instead, after the warmth set in, showing determination, the man with the pack returned to life on the wild edge of the land. After a command to the sharp creature that had been pacified by the impressive displays of civilization, the walker began to trek, and the wandering dog felt self respect, the beginning of membership. So, they belonged to the range, and the traders had plans to provision them by means of a system of values arrived to demonstrate available necessities and equities conceived in the course of bargaining. This general aspiration was accompanied by the taciturn response thought to be more pleasant than the argument and ill will. Prosperity had been created by serving fate and nature rather than by transferring property to a singular pit. The result was an expectation of good deals and reliable assistance.
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52
Ibrahim looking at Dalila declares Kitab Allah wa sunnati Rasullah Dalila looking at Ibrahim declares Kitab Allah wa sunnati Rasullah Ibrahim says to Dalila You are my heaven tonight Dalila smiles Ibrahim thanks Allah before dawn for being given the best provision Dalila sits behind him humbling herself before Allah and giving reverance to Allah for an uncalculated blessing Ibrahim leads them in their daily prayers Dalila carefully and gratefully follows Ibrahim is just or fair with Dalila and the family Dalila is just or fair with Ibrahim and the family Ibrahim often cooks delicious dinners for the two of them Dalila plays with Ibrahim's hair afterwards Ibrahim reads Quran and lives it for Allah, Allah's beloved Prophet, himself, Dalila, and their kids Dalila learns from Ibrahim every day and admires his efforts to do what is required of him as a man of faith, as a husband, and as a father Ibrahim is honest with Dalila Dalila is honest with Ibrahim Ibrahim gives Dalila attention and listens to her when she needs to talk Dalila dresses for Ibrahim like she doesn't dress for other men Ibrahim loves the way she looks for him Dalila lets Ibrahim know what he can do for her to please her Ibrahim enjoys the challenge and likes being her hero Dalila often has nights out on the town with Ibrahim she plans Ibrahim surprises Dalila several times a year by taking her to unique places and sometimes to scenic, thrilling vacation spots Dalila says to Ibrahim You've made me yours forever Ibrahim replies I'm a fortunate man
0
Jul 28, 2019
Jul 28, 2019 at 4:57 PM UTC
Love is a verb.
Ibrahim looking at Dalila declares Kitab Allah wa sunnati Rasullah Dalila looking at Ibrahim declares Kitab Allah wa sunnati Rasullah Ibrahim says to Dalila You are my heaven tonight Dalila smiles Ibrahim thanks Allah before dawn for being given the best provision Dalila sits behind him humbling herself before Allah and giving reverance to Allah for an uncalculated blessing Ibrahim leads them in their daily prayers Dalila carefully and gratefully follows Ibrahim is just or fair with Dalila and the family Dalila is just or fair with Ibrahim and the family Ibrahim often cooks delicious dinners for the two of them Dalila plays with Ibrahim's hair afterwards Ibrahim reads Quran and lives it for Allah, Allah's beloved Prophet, himself, Dalila, and their kids Dalila learns from Ibrahim every day and admires his efforts to do what is required of him as a man of faith, as a husband, and as a father Ibrahim is honest with Dalila Dalila is honest with Ibrahim Ibrahim gives Dalila attention and listens to her when she needs to talk Dalila dresses for Ibrahim like she doesn't dress for other men Ibrahim loves the way she looks for him Dalila lets Ibrahim know what he can do for her to please her Ibrahim enjoys the challenge and likes being her hero Dalila often has nights out on the town with Ibrahim she plans Ibrahim surprises Dalila several times a year by taking her to unique places and sometimes to scenic, thrilling vacation spots Dalila says to Ibrahim You've made me yours forever Ibrahim replies I'm a fortunate man
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