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"righteousness" poems
#*Can it love you like God loves you, with a love that is better than life? Can it connect you to eternal beauty? Can it save you? Can it redeem you?  Can it lift you out of the miry pit? Can it make you clean enough to finally feel acceptable? Can it delight your soul to the core? Can it take your breath away with its faithfulness to you? Can it paint both sunrise and sunset across the sky to beckon your attention? Can it cause the breeze to blow and gently caress your cheeks? Can it send hummingbirds and wildflowers across your path to romance your heart? Can it parade before you the starry host and call them each by name? Can it probe you to the depths and fill you with itself? Can it rush to your aid riding on the wings of the wind? Can it satisfy your hunger and thirst with bountiful things? Can it give to you feet like a deer that you might dance upon the heights? Can it arrange every detail of your life to draw you and drive you to itself? Can it pursue you with all the resources of the universe? Can it know you through and through and still desire you? Can it raise you up and seat you in the heavenly realms and bless you with every spiritual blessing? Can it supply your every need out of its glorious riches? Can its grace be sufficient for you and its mercy help you in your greatest temptation? Can it pour overflowing comfort into you through all of your troubles? Can it reach down to draw you out of deep waters? Can it set you on an unshakable foundation? Can it bound across the mountains to come to your rescue? Can it make you lie down in green pastures and lead you beside still waters? Can it walk with you through the darkest wilderness and never leave you or forsake you? Can it carry you when you are weak or have fallen? Can it let you rest between its shoulders when you are weary or burdened? Can it escort you to heaven’s banqueting table and spread its banner of love over you? Can it hide you in the shelter of its wing? Can it be your daily portion and immerse you in the boundlessness of itself? Can it clothe you in robes of righteousness and garments of salvation?  Can it give to you praise in exchange for mourning? Can it bestow on you a crown of beauty for ashes? Can it turn your wailing into dancing? Can it flood you with peace like a river? Can it fill your heart with joy in the worst of afflictions? Can it know the way to lead you home? Can it refine you in its fire and bring you forth as gold?  Can it capture you fully even as it sets you fully free? Can it ever truly be your Everything?*#
0
Jul 3, 2016
Jul 3, 2016 at 12:47 PM UTC
What Can Your Idol Do?
#*Can it love you like God loves you, with a love that is better than life? Can it connect you to eternal beauty? Can it save you? Can it redeem you?  Can it lift you out of the miry pit? Can it make you clean enough to finally feel acceptable? Can it delight your soul to the core? Can it take your breath away with its faithfulness to you? Can it paint both sunrise and sunset across the sky to beckon your attention? Can it cause the breeze to blow and gently caress your cheeks? Can it send hummingbirds and wildflowers across your path to romance your heart? Can it parade before you the starry host and call them each by name? Can it probe you to the depths and fill you with itself? Can it rush to your aid riding on the wings of the wind? Can it satisfy your hunger and thirst with bountiful things? Can it give to you feet like a deer that you might dance upon the heights? Can it arrange every detail of your life to draw you and drive you to itself? Can it pursue you with all the resources of the universe? Can it know you through and through and still desire you? Can it raise you up and seat you in the heavenly realms and bless you with every spiritual blessing? Can it supply your every need out of its glorious riches? Can its grace be sufficient for you and its mercy help you in your greatest temptation? Can it pour overflowing comfort into you through all of your troubles? Can it reach down to draw you out of deep waters? Can it set you on an unshakable foundation? Can it bound across the mountains to come to your rescue? Can it make you lie down in green pastures and lead you beside still waters? Can it walk with you through the darkest wilderness and never leave you or forsake you? Can it carry you when you are weak or have fallen? Can it let you rest between its shoulders when you are weary or burdened? Can it escort you to heaven’s banqueting table and spread its banner of love over you? Can it hide you in the shelter of its wing? Can it be your daily portion and immerse you in the boundlessness of itself? Can it clothe you in robes of righteousness and garments of salvation?  Can it give to you praise in exchange for mourning? Can it bestow on you a crown of beauty for ashes? Can it turn your wailing into dancing? Can it flood you with peace like a river? Can it fill your heart with joy in the worst of afflictions? Can it know the way to lead you home? Can it refine you in its fire and bring you forth as gold?  Can it capture you fully even as it sets you fully free? Can it ever truly be your Everything?*#
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#*It is out of the heart’s cavernous longing and furious search for love, significance, acceptance, approval, identity, security, freedom, belonging, innocence, intimacy and transcendence— out of its primordial memory of what was lost to us in the Garden— that we begin to ***** idols for ourselves. Unconsciously we hope they might restore to us a taste of paradise, taking away our fear and shame and isolation. We yearn to go back but, alas, we cannot get in from there. We ache to connect to beauty, to be desired by it as much as we desire it, and Jesus is the only door by which we may enter. He is the Beauty, and all the rest are simply there like pealing bells to arouse our hearts to Him and tell us that He is coming for us. Still, as if we haven’t quite yet heard and believed the message, we keep aimlessly trying to forge a false righteousness through our false gods. When they are lost or the dreams of them unrealized we are devastated, for the shadows, echoes and reflections we had supposed would finally make us feel good about ourselves have been exposed as frauds, and once again we are left to feel naked but without fig leaves to cover us. It is at these precise moments, when the bottom of our false hope falls out, that we are best prepared to encounter Christ in His intimate fullness and most apt to recognize at last that He alone is everything we have been so desperately wanting. It is our boiling point, where the unbearable weight of failed expectation so crashes in on us that we are finally begging God to lift our idols off of us and deliver us from them, pleading with Him to come and capture us, crying out to Him to possess us fully.*#
0
Jul 3, 2016
Jul 3, 2016 at 12:58 PM UTC
The Long Way Home
#*It is out of the heart’s cavernous longing and furious search for love, significance, acceptance, approval, identity, security, freedom, belonging, innocence, intimacy and transcendence— out of its primordial memory of what was lost to us in the Garden— that we begin to ***** idols for ourselves. Unconsciously we hope they might restore to us a taste of paradise, taking away our fear and shame and isolation. We yearn to go back but, alas, we cannot get in from there. We ache to connect to beauty, to be desired by it as much as we desire it, and Jesus is the only door by which we may enter. He is the Beauty, and all the rest are simply there like pealing bells to arouse our hearts to Him and tell us that He is coming for us. Still, as if we haven’t quite yet heard and believed the message, we keep aimlessly trying to forge a false righteousness through our false gods. When they are lost or the dreams of them unrealized we are devastated, for the shadows, echoes and reflections we had supposed would finally make us feel good about ourselves have been exposed as frauds, and once again we are left to feel naked but without fig leaves to cover us. It is at these precise moments, when the bottom of our false hope falls out, that we are best prepared to encounter Christ in His intimate fullness and most apt to recognize at last that He alone is everything we have been so desperately wanting. It is our boiling point, where the unbearable weight of failed expectation so crashes in on us that we are finally begging God to lift our idols off of us and deliver us from them, pleading with Him to come and capture us, crying out to Him to possess us fully.*#
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27
*My depraved soul's unearthed By the Holy Ghost's breath And given new birth Out of spiritual death This wretch is turned 'round Fit with eyes to believe A lost sheep is found And her Shepherd received My blots are each edited Out in Christ's fount His righteousness credited To my bankrupt account A prisoner's been pardoned No debt left to pay A heart which was hardened Becomes pliable clay My life's set apart Now from worldly regression Picked out from the start Made for Christ's own possession I'm purchased with blood Shed on Golgotha's tree A slave bought by God And fully set free My sins were all laid On the head of a Scapegoat Who carried their weight To a desert remote Once an object of wrath And deserving hell's fire But Jesus took my bath— Conflagration of God's ire So an enemy no more I'm brought into God's fold Carried through His door And out of night's cold He calls me His child His heir and His bride Though once an orphan wild Now seated at Christ's side And soon He'll return When salvation's complete When no longer I'll yearn For His own face I'll meet!*
0
Apr 14, 2017
Apr 14, 2017 at 11:37 PM UTC
Grace
#*It is out of the heart’s cavernous longing and furious search for love, significance, acceptance, approval, identity, security, freedom, belonging, innocence, intimacy and transcendence— out of its primordial memory of what was lost to us in the Garden— that we begin to ***** idols for ourselves. Unconsciously we hope they might restore to us a taste of paradise, taking away our fear and shame and isolation. We yearn to go back but, alas, we cannot get in from there. We ache to connect to beauty, to be desired by it as much as we desire it, and Jesus is the only door by which we may enter. He is the Beauty, and all the rest are simply there like pealing bells to arouse our hearts to Him and tell us that He is coming for us. Still, as if we haven’t quite yet heard and believed the message, we keep aimlessly trying to forge a false righteousness through our false gods. When they are lost or the dreams of them unrealized we are devastated, for the shadows, echoes and reflections we had supposed would finally make us feel good about ourselves have been exposed as frauds, and once again we are left to feel naked but without fig leaves to cover us. It is at these precise moments, when the bottom of our false hope falls out, that we are best prepared to encounter Christ in His intimate fullness and most apt to recognize at last that He alone is everything we have been so desperately wanting. It is our boiling point, where the unbearable weight of failed expectation so crashes in on us that we are finally begging God to lift our idols off of us and deliver us from them, pleading with Him to come and capture us, crying out to Him to possess us fully.*#
0
Nov 12, 2015
Nov 12, 2015 at 10:41 PM UTC
The Long Way Home
#*It is out of the heart’s cavernous longing and furious search for love, significance, acceptance, approval, identity, security, freedom, belonging, innocence, intimacy and transcendence— out of its primordial memory of what was lost to us in the Garden— that we begin to ***** idols for ourselves. Unconsciously we hope they might restore to us a taste of paradise, taking away our fear and shame and isolation. We yearn to go back but, alas, we cannot get in from there. We ache to connect to beauty, to be desired by it as much as we desire it, and Jesus is the only door by which we may enter. He is the Beauty, and all the rest are simply there like pealing bells to arouse our hearts to Him and tell us that He is coming for us. Still, as if we haven’t quite yet heard and believed the message, we keep aimlessly trying to forge a false righteousness through our false gods. When they are lost or the dreams of them unrealized we are devastated, for the shadows, echoes and reflections we had supposed would finally make us feel good about ourselves have been exposed as frauds, and once again we are left to feel naked but without fig leaves to cover us. It is at these precise moments, when the bottom of our false hope falls out, that we are best prepared to encounter Christ in His intimate fullness and most apt to recognize at last that He alone is everything we have been so desperately wanting. It is our boiling point, where the unbearable weight of failed expectation so crashes in on us that we are finally begging God to lift our idols off of us and deliver us from them, pleading with Him to come and capture us, crying out to Him to possess us fully.*#
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27
*My depraved soul's unearthed By the Holy Ghost's breath And given new birth Out of spiritual death This wretch is turned 'round Fit with eyes to believe A lost sheep is found And her Shepherd received My blots are each edited Out in Christ's fount His righteousness credited To my bankrupt account A prisoner's been pardoned No debt left to pay A heart which was hardened Becomes pliable clay My life's set apart Now from worldly regression Picked out from the start Made for Christ's own possession I'm purchased with blood Shed on Golgotha's tree A slave bought by God And fully set free My sins were all laid On the head of a Scapegoat Who carried their weight To a desert remote Once an object of wrath And deserving hell's fire But Jesus took my bath— Conflagration of God's ire So an enemy no more I'm brought into God's fold Carried through His door And out of night's cold He calls me His child His heir and His bride Though once an orphan wild Now seated at Christ's side And soon He'll return When salvation's complete When no longer I'll yearn For His own face I'll meet!*
0
Nov 5, 2015
Nov 5, 2015 at 4:07 PM UTC
Grace
I like immigrants, immigration. Legal immigration, Jane passionately corrects. Actually my goal is a borderless world. Gathering the neighborhood like family. The men discuss sterilizing welfare mothers. I say You're working       around the edges, humanity has exceeded the carrying capacity of the planet, even those with jobs. And spouses. And houses. Yet it's an idyll of an early summer evening, new cut grass, two baseball teams of children playing in it. Safe from Pakistan. News photos of Muslim refugees, women in blue robes, biblically carrying children away from holocaust. The fundamentalist army not far behind, beheading sinners, sure in its righteousness as the Holy Roman Empire. Somehow Joel Osteen the evangelist comes up while talking about how the Catholic Church is irrelevant in North       America, even Latin America and Africa are going evangelical. Izzi likes Osteen, awesome extemporaneous speaker, no teleprompter, up from bootstraps message. My wife says he's probably Jewish. Fortunately no one claims the Holocaust never happened or slavery       was voluntary. What is the carrying capacity of the planet? In China is it each couple or each adult that gets one offspring? As life expectancy and standards rise, family size diminishes. We draw together into greener, tighter cities. The children of three monotheistic religions, atheists and agnostics play in city streets, work farm fields, explore forests, deserts,       grasslands, space. Two ancient female poets: Enheduanna and Sappho are a revelation. The clarity of their complaints: lost lover, lost city.
0
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 10:48 AM UTC
Immigration
I like immigrants, immigration. Legal immigration, Jane passionately corrects. Actually my goal is a borderless world. Gathering the neighborhood like family. The men discuss sterilizing welfare mothers. I say You're working       around the edges, humanity has exceeded the carrying capacity of the planet, even those with jobs. And spouses. And houses. Yet it's an idyll of an early summer evening, new cut grass, two baseball teams of children playing in it. Safe from Pakistan. News photos of Muslim refugees, women in blue robes, biblically carrying children away from holocaust. The fundamentalist army not far behind, beheading sinners, sure in its righteousness as the Holy Roman Empire. Somehow Joel Osteen the evangelist comes up while talking about how the Catholic Church is irrelevant in North       America, even Latin America and Africa are going evangelical. Izzi likes Osteen, awesome extemporaneous speaker, no teleprompter, up from bootstraps message. My wife says he's probably Jewish. Fortunately no one claims the Holocaust never happened or slavery       was voluntary. What is the carrying capacity of the planet? In China is it each couple or each adult that gets one offspring? As life expectancy and standards rise, family size diminishes. We draw together into greener, tighter cities. The children of three monotheistic religions, atheists and agnostics play in city streets, work farm fields, explore forests, deserts,       grasslands, space. Two ancient female poets: Enheduanna and Sappho are a revelation. The clarity of their complaints: lost lover, lost city.
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. Of Broken circumstance )( Sells her ... FLOWER )( But not her righteousness (((( FLOWER GIRL ! "" hippie boy What do you say Are you gonna keep your honor And preserve the purity ? Flower child ! Earth mother To be /// Nurturer and healer For all to see .
0
Jun 5, 2016
Jun 5, 2016 at 9:35 PM UTC
flower girl // child
*My depraved soul's unearthed By the Holy Ghost's breath And given new birth Out of spiritual death This wretch is turned 'round Fit with eyes to believe A lost sheep is found And her Shepherd received My blots are each edited Out in Christ's fount His righteousness credited To my bankrupt account A prisoner's been pardoned No debt left to pay A heart which was hardened Becomes pliable clay My life's set apart Now from worldly regression Picked out from the start Made for Christ's own possession I'm purchased with blood Shed on Golgotha's tree A slave bought by God And fully set free My sins were all laid On the head of a Scapegoat Who carried their weight To a desert remote Once an object of wrath And deserving hell's fire But Jesus took my bath— Conflagration of God's ire So an enemy no more I'm brought into God's fold Carried through His door And out of night's cold He calls me His child His heir and His bride Though once an orphan wild Now seated at Christ's side And soon He'll return When salvation's complete When no longer I'll yearn For His own face I'll meet!*
0
Apr 14, 2016
Apr 14, 2016 at 3:09 PM UTC
Grace
We're here! No party? Ha! Who’s ugly? Leave your pity I'm not afraid Everything’s primitive New Mother's old Father's cold A universe of historic shame Casting shade The assertion of intolerance Blocking righteousness Grabbing ignorance by the pores Let infant nails dig for evolution The bold face of madness Biting to be truly free Sanity expands -ism’s explode Pushing hearts Forward Moon Star Traveler Be you Be here - with me Against hate One with the human faith One for love
0
Mar 9, 2019
Mar 9, 2019 at 2:03 PM UTC
Moon Star Traveler
Feelings, the treasure of ones heart, A flame, cast ablaze by the purity of righteousness, warm alike sunlight, yet not as burning or uncomfortably hot if exposed too long, As embracing, as a motherly tugging hug, full of love and dearness, It feels so gentle, like a soft breeze, sweetly touching the blossoming petals, after a soft rain pours water over their delicate, little bodies, So warm, as if enlightment were close to reach beyond the border of consciousness, growing strong and happy, alike a peach tree, Celestial is what it tastes like, sweeping over my transience in awe, It is but an emotion, which would soften a stone hard heart and make it alike cotton and wonderfully sweet as candy from amongst heaven, Inner peace, served on a golden plate behind a courtain of sunlight, describing the greatest pleasure,your drink and thankfulness for what you have, without greed, the desire to have more, despising violence, And even though humans will keep on living, such whilst being in a wretched, poor state, destined to fight on and hope for the better, Living, is what I find very beautiful. ~ Umi
0
Apr 22, 2018
Apr 22, 2018 at 6:07 PM UTC
Flaming Soul
Rest in this, my bruised and weary soul: I was a wretch, chosen to be a beauty; a slave, chosen to be a bride; an orphan, chosen to be an heir; an enemy, chosen to be a friend. I deserved nothing but wrath and death yet received everything of life and grace. I am loved beyond any dreaming of it and blessed above all worldly wealth. I have the incomparable birthright of those whose Father is God and whose Lord is Jesus Christ— righteousness from Him and peace with Him. I am a cherished gift from the Father to the Son. I was paid for by the Son’s own blood and am "engraved on the palms of His hands." I am the living temple of God’s Holy Spirit Who empowers me to do His pleasure and bring Him glory. I am the LORD's, chosen and set apart for His delight. ***What more could I ask? But that's only the beginning...*** I will live as blessed as I believe myself to already be, for "I have been blessed in the heavenly realms with every spiritual blessing in Christ," "given everything I need for life and godliness" through knowing Him and His precious promises, "an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade— kept [securely and eternally] in heaven" for me. I've been "raised up and seated with Christ"; my "life is hidden with Him" in the Father, and "He will fill me with joy in His presence, with eternal pleasures at His right hand." Oh, that "the eyes of my heart would be enlightened with the spirit of wisdom and revelation" to see what’s already been prepared and given to me and to know much more fully the One Who has so meticulously prepared and lavishly given it. As I walk intimately with Him and rest confidently in Him (based only on His merits, never my own), I am given free access to my account in His heavenly storehouse and enabled to appropriate its glorious riches to every circumstance of my life, even the most searingly painful and confoundingly difficult ones. I have a spiritual Fort Knox available to me through knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, but He Himself is my greatest treasure. Without Him, nothing else matters. Nothing else has meaning if I am not found in Him, clinging to Him and carried by Him. When I finally become desperate for Him alone, I begin to understand the profound reality of all He desires for me and offers to me in my spiritual inheritance in Him. There are infinite presents to be unwrapped in His presence which cannot be told in human words or comprehended by mortal minds, but they wait to be taken hold of by any and all who would take hold of Him. ***For He gives and gives and gives and gives, and even when He takes, He gives.***#
0
Jul 28, 2017
Jul 28, 2017 at 3:22 AM UTC
~ BLESSED BEYOND ~
Rest in this, my bruised and weary soul: I was a wretch, chosen to be a beauty; a slave, chosen to be a bride; an orphan, chosen to be an heir; an enemy, chosen to be a friend. I deserved nothing but wrath and death yet received everything of life and grace. I am loved beyond any dreaming of it and blessed above all worldly wealth. I have the incomparable birthright of those whose Father is God and whose Lord is Jesus Christ— righteousness from Him and peace with Him. I am a cherished gift from the Father to the Son. I was paid for by the Son’s own blood and am "engraved on the palms of His hands." I am the living temple of God’s Holy Spirit Who empowers me to do His pleasure and bring Him glory. I am the LORD's, chosen and set apart for His delight. ***What more could I ask? But that's only the beginning...*** I will live as blessed as I believe myself to already be, for "I have been blessed in the heavenly realms with every spiritual blessing in Christ," "given everything I need for life and godliness" through knowing Him and His precious promises, "an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade— kept [securely and eternally] in heaven" for me. I've been "raised up and seated with Christ"; my "life is hidden with Him" in the Father, and "He will fill me with joy in His presence, with eternal pleasures at His right hand." Oh, that "the eyes of my heart would be enlightened with the spirit of wisdom and revelation" to see what’s already been prepared and given to me and to know much more fully the One Who has so meticulously prepared and lavishly given it. As I walk intimately with Him and rest confidently in Him (based only on His merits, never my own), I am given free access to my account in His heavenly storehouse and enabled to appropriate its glorious riches to every circumstance of my life, even the most searingly painful and confoundingly difficult ones. I have a spiritual Fort Knox available to me through knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, but He Himself is my greatest treasure. Without Him, nothing else matters. Nothing else has meaning if I am not found in Him, clinging to Him and carried by Him. When I finally become desperate for Him alone, I begin to understand the profound reality of all He desires for me and offers to me in my spiritual inheritance in Him. There are infinite presents to be unwrapped in His presence which cannot be told in human words or comprehended by mortal minds, but they wait to be taken hold of by any and all who would take hold of Him. ***For He gives and gives and gives and gives, and even when He takes, He gives.***#
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59
survival of the most dissociative you don’t need anyone to make you feel you can feel all by yourself you can feel any emotion you want you have been given the full reportoire whiteness can give you wealth can get you ***** and enslaved whiteness can get you anything any type of dissociation legal liberty dissociative profit an accumulation of dissociative value to get this much sugar dissociative cooperation of whiteness an empire of dissociative investment dissociative throne of power out of control with the need to control anger jealousy envy of those who are trying to be human native culture ethnicity anger and frustration force and pressure to make dissociate whiteness breathing together against if the cooperation of whiteness catches you going back to help those it tried to bury behind dissociative reality a desperate reality that ceases to exist when the intensity of the dissociative cooperation ceases to exist am I the only one manifesting this honesty a diagnosis of the diagnosers intimate communication tattooing the world forever undeniable language of change I gave all the history of dissociation to the world exposing abuse that is the pride of dissociative white supremacy we are not the objects of dissociative value an association of focus not cooperating studying and exposing resisting dissociation conflicting value of nativity accumulative value of resistance resilience unafraid unflinching fearless vulnerable reincarnating intimate honesty lights down low revolution subtle in the face of dissociative force I need my fix of dissociation please do it with me no wait reinforce resistance keep it up with breathing dont conspire dissociation I am decomposition so I leave behind an abrasive language so abrasive any remnant of sensitivity of dissociation is drawn in to contemplate to question its intentions an exorcism of dissociative whiteness giving into nativity self righteousness desperately competing to dissociate like whiteness **** them and you there is beauty outside of this dissociation Americanized the diseased spread of dissociative ******* dissociative procreation the evolution of dissociative selection Darwin’s cousin tortured and destroyed it is fun and exciting to denounce dissociation do it with me
0
Sep 8, 2018
Sep 8, 2018 at 11:01 PM UTC
survival of the most dissociative
survival of the most dissociative you don’t need anyone to make you feel you can feel all by yourself you can feel any emotion you want you have been given the full reportoire whiteness can give you wealth can get you ***** and enslaved whiteness can get you anything any type of dissociation legal liberty dissociative profit an accumulation of dissociative value to get this much sugar dissociative cooperation of whiteness an empire of dissociative investment dissociative throne of power out of control with the need to control anger jealousy envy of those who are trying to be human native culture ethnicity anger and frustration force and pressure to make dissociate whiteness breathing together against if the cooperation of whiteness catches you going back to help those it tried to bury behind dissociative reality a desperate reality that ceases to exist when the intensity of the dissociative cooperation ceases to exist am I the only one manifesting this honesty a diagnosis of the diagnosers intimate communication tattooing the world forever undeniable language of change I gave all the history of dissociation to the world exposing abuse that is the pride of dissociative white supremacy we are not the objects of dissociative value an association of focus not cooperating studying and exposing resisting dissociation conflicting value of nativity accumulative value of resistance resilience unafraid unflinching fearless vulnerable reincarnating intimate honesty lights down low revolution subtle in the face of dissociative force I need my fix of dissociation please do it with me no wait reinforce resistance keep it up with breathing dont conspire dissociation I am decomposition so I leave behind an abrasive language so abrasive any remnant of sensitivity of dissociation is drawn in to contemplate to question its intentions an exorcism of dissociative whiteness giving into nativity self righteousness desperately competing to dissociate like whiteness **** them and you there is beauty outside of this dissociation Americanized the diseased spread of dissociative ******* dissociative procreation the evolution of dissociative selection Darwin’s cousin tortured and destroyed it is fun and exciting to denounce dissociation do it with me
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97
It's easy to hate people For things you don't understand. I know. I've been on both ends. And the funny thing About people hating other people, Is that we're really not that different. I mean, according to recent studies, Race doesn't even biologically exist. And most religions look and act the same, In some way, shape, or form. Almost every one has started some type of war, Though it was truly based upon greed and power. Humans have a strange thirst for power, I've never really understood it. I've hated my fair share Of humans. Granted, most of them were violent ****** Granted, so am I. Though I am violent in the vindictive, spiteful sense. No better, really. A false sense of righteousness Because I believe I can cast judgment upon those who have sinned, While ignoring my sins. You have no reason to judge another, For you are not clean of sin. Now, I'd get off my high horse, If the ground wasn't so ***** And full of hate. It makes my stomach weak, Too much dark. Not enough light. Of course, If all were well, I'd think there were too much light, Not enough dark. There needs to be a balance, But the balance is too dark. I wonder how you can't see it, How you can force yourself into denial And live in your little fantasy world Where all is good, and all is this, and all is that. I'd like to think it's because you haven't seen what I've seen, But you have. But you do know. And that scares me. So keep hating this, But not that. Keep hating that, But not this. You can't make excuses, When you hate all around the board. Be careful who you hate, It might be someone you love.
0
Nov 18, 2016
Nov 18, 2016 at 7:55 PM UTC
"Be Careful Who You Hate. It Might be Someone You Love."
It's easy to hate people For things you don't understand. I know. I've been on both ends. And the funny thing About people hating other people, Is that we're really not that different. I mean, according to recent studies, Race doesn't even biologically exist. And most religions look and act the same, In some way, shape, or form. Almost every one has started some type of war, Though it was truly based upon greed and power. Humans have a strange thirst for power, I've never really understood it. I've hated my fair share Of humans. Granted, most of them were violent ****** Granted, so am I. Though I am violent in the vindictive, spiteful sense. No better, really. A false sense of righteousness Because I believe I can cast judgment upon those who have sinned, While ignoring my sins. You have no reason to judge another, For you are not clean of sin. Now, I'd get off my high horse, If the ground wasn't so ***** And full of hate. It makes my stomach weak, Too much dark. Not enough light. Of course, If all were well, I'd think there were too much light, Not enough dark. There needs to be a balance, But the balance is too dark. I wonder how you can't see it, How you can force yourself into denial And live in your little fantasy world Where all is good, and all is this, and all is that. I'd like to think it's because you haven't seen what I've seen, But you have. But you do know. And that scares me. So keep hating this, But not that. Keep hating that, But not this. You can't make excuses, When you hate all around the board. Be careful who you hate, It might be someone you love.
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55
The GOOD NEWS that God has done for us what we could NEVER do for ourselves by sending His own Son to become a man, Christ Jesus, to live a perfectly righteous life in complete fulfillment of God’s holy law and to die for our sins on the cross as our substitutionary sacrifice (“the righteous for the unrighteous”), bearing and satisfying the just wrath of God deserved by us ALL   (for against Him our hearts are each naturally and treasonously rebellious), and resurrecting Him from the dead so that THROUGH FAITH IN JESUS we can be saved from the penalty of our sinful rebellion (eternal damnation and separation from the grace of God) and saved from the power of our sinful rebellion to instead live a NEW LIFE in intimate relationship with Him, surrendered now to Him, with all of our sins forgiven, covered with His own perfect righteousness because of His complete and finished work for which we who believe receive a full credit, and therefore (by grace alone) in perfect standing and unchanging acceptance before God in His holiness, at peace with the Father wholly, indwelt and empowered by God's Spirit to live for Him and His glory and His kingdom, now and eternally.
0
Dec 2, 2018
Dec 2, 2018 at 10:38 AM UTC
What is the Gospel?
What truly is the definition of righteousness? Is it determined by act or by mind? They say a good man fights for justice, peace, and prosperity. But then, can a man of such moral truly remain so if he turns to violence as an answer? Does his intent to create marvels render him of moral status though his methods may empower death and promote war? Oh, this man is peaceful himself, taking letters instead of bullets to battle but his lyrics dislodge society in a manner not all approve and so begins combat. Can this soul carry such holy title, if the repercussions of his strung together words are strung up necks? Or is the good man the one who turns away from the world's fight to be his own embodiment of ethical beauty? For the one who remains silent causes no direct pain; he himself is passive and tranquil and moves to inspire such conduct in others without commanding it. But his silence encourages fierce vehemency and wildness. Does this fact not taint his name? The first man had pure intent, but with his tongue he spit sparks which others used to ignite a fire and burn the world. The second did not fight himself but his chosen hush could never end the blood rain, and so his lack of sharp verbosity allowed knives to flash and blood to spill. So I will ask again, what determines morality? Though this time with a grounding response; morals define morality. Each man's mind renders his own flawless ideal individually, and so one's perfection will always be another's monstrosity. In truth? There are no good men, or at least not one to all.
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Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 10:35 PM UTC
What is a Good Man?
What truly is the definition of righteousness? Is it determined by act or by mind? They say a good man fights for justice, peace, and prosperity. But then, can a man of such moral truly remain so if he turns to violence as an answer? Does his intent to create marvels render him of moral status though his methods may empower death and promote war? Oh, this man is peaceful himself, taking letters instead of bullets to battle but his lyrics dislodge society in a manner not all approve and so begins combat. Can this soul carry such holy title, if the repercussions of his strung together words are strung up necks? Or is the good man the one who turns away from the world's fight to be his own embodiment of ethical beauty? For the one who remains silent causes no direct pain; he himself is passive and tranquil and moves to inspire such conduct in others without commanding it. But his silence encourages fierce vehemency and wildness. Does this fact not taint his name? The first man had pure intent, but with his tongue he spit sparks which others used to ignite a fire and burn the world. The second did not fight himself but his chosen hush could never end the blood rain, and so his lack of sharp verbosity allowed knives to flash and blood to spill. So I will ask again, what determines morality? Though this time with a grounding response; morals define morality. Each man's mind renders his own flawless ideal individually, and so one's perfection will always be another's monstrosity. In truth? There are no good men, or at least not one to all.
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34
#STICK’EM UP with LIQUID NAILS DANGER ! EXTREMELY FLAMMABLE         See Other Caution on Back Panel: I’m hot for you Cowgirl – you’re so flammable my glue-gun starts to melt; my screwdriver starts twisting when you loosen that low-slung belt. You make me feel like laying re-bar in a freshly-poured foundation. Shoot me up with that caulk gun baby – I need you like salvation. Ten and one-half fluid ounces – pull off your top, pop a love-cap in me. Fingerin’ your trigger while the job is gettin’ bigger so take me for a ride to the hardware store, honey, cause I’m seeing red and feeling white on your golden background’s sheer delight.  Hammer me a heart-full, spike me on a cross of blonde, I’m hanging ten, surfing the tube of your magic wand. I’ve been in love ever since I first waterproofed my seamy undersides with you… stand over me in those red, red boots, you Liquid Nails Girl – and from your pure white Stetson let righteousness unfurl. You won the shoot-out long before you even drew, my dear. Lost hope of the Wild West, Final Frontal Feminine Frontier – there’s only one side of you…  your GOOD side.  Just one look and your fearless gaze silences the foes, my blooming prairie rose. YEE – HAW !  Be my angel, be my dream, my valentine rodeo queen, be my bodyguard, my therapist, long & tall & hard & wet – be my Liquid Nails Girl forever and I’ll ride right into your sunset…
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Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 9:28 PM UTC
Owed to a Caulk Gun
The snows are fled away, leaves on the shaws And grasses in the mead renew their birth, The river to the river-bed withdraws, And altered is the fashion of the earth. The Nymphs and Graces three put off their fear And unapparelled in the woodland play. The swift hour and the brief prime of the year Say to the soul, Thou wast not born for aye. Thaw follows frost; hard on the heel of spring Treads summer sure to die, for hard on hers Comes autumn with his apples scattering; Then back to wintertide, when nothing stirs. But oh, whate'er the sky-led seasons mar, Moon upon moon rebuilds it with her beams; Come we where Tullus and where Ancus are And good Aeneas, we are dust and dreams. Torquatus, if the gods in heaven shall add The morrow to the day, what tongue has told? Feast then thy heart, for what thy heart has had The fingers of no heir will ever hold. When thou descendest once the shades among, The stern assize and equal judgment o'er, Not thy long lineage nor thy golden tongue, No, nor thy righteousness, shall friend thee more. Night holds Hippolytus the pure of stain, Diana steads him nothing, he must stay; And Theseus leaves Pirithous in the chain The love of comrades cannot take away.
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9.1k
Diffugere Nives (Horace, Odes 4.7)
Excuses, excuses - they'll come in a flood, When you realize your actions have pushed me away. Imagine! That I once considered you blood! But I've had quite enough of the games that you play. The switch came in stages, a gradual thing, I first didn't notice; it wasn't too clear. My perspective grew sharper with distance between, Felt your backhanded words as they pin-pricked my ears. You thought I wouldn't notice, would let it slip by, Never gave me much credit, and that was your fault. Wrapped your insults in jokes, like arsenic on rye, And you thought all this time that you wouldn't be caught. I don't know where you get it - this self-righteous act, It's not as endearing as you think it to be. You might take what you want, and then leave it at that, But I'm telling you now: you'll get no more from me. I don't know what has prompted you picking this fight. They're pathetic, yet hurtful, these things that you say. And I don't know where you think you've gotten the right To take it out on me when you don't get your way. For years, it's been happening - don't know how I missed All the ways you controlled me; I answered to you. Always did what you wanted, I'm realizing this; The extent of the selfishness you put me through. But it changed not too long ago, didn't it, dear? Oh yes, I grew a spine, and things started to change. And, oh, you didn't like what you started to hear. My defying your wants nearly made you deranged. People grow and they change; it's especially true For me ever since I was finally free. So how sad to discover it's not true for you, You're the same as you were, and as you'll always be. That's the person you are, who you've been since we met And it never caused issues until days of late. The things that you've said are things you will regret, Because I have no room for your envy-fueled hate. You've become quite the mean one - I'm sorry, it's true. You're no longer the person to whom I could turn. It's a shame (it's a **** shame), but yes, we are through. And it will not be me who is nursing the burn. Maybe one day you'll change, and we might reunite. I'm not getting my hopes up - there's danger in that. Until then, I hope you learn to treat people right, Because no one desires to stand by a brat. Maybe I am the first to address how you are, But I won't be the last, and this, I can assure. Your poignant self-righteousness won't get you far, And I'm sorry - for your case, there isn't a cure. So remember me now; you'll remember me then, When you lose all those who used to stand at your side. You'll remember the disrespect you showed your friend, For alas, she won't be there, holding you as you cry.
0
Feb 4, 2013
Feb 4, 2013 at 9:41 PM UTC
Disrespect
Excuses, excuses - they'll come in a flood, When you realize your actions have pushed me away. Imagine! That I once considered you blood! But I've had quite enough of the games that you play. The switch came in stages, a gradual thing, I first didn't notice; it wasn't too clear. My perspective grew sharper with distance between, Felt your backhanded words as they pin-pricked my ears. You thought I wouldn't notice, would let it slip by, Never gave me much credit, and that was your fault. Wrapped your insults in jokes, like arsenic on rye, And you thought all this time that you wouldn't be caught. I don't know where you get it - this self-righteous act, It's not as endearing as you think it to be. You might take what you want, and then leave it at that, But I'm telling you now: you'll get no more from me. I don't know what has prompted you picking this fight. They're pathetic, yet hurtful, these things that you say. And I don't know where you think you've gotten the right To take it out on me when you don't get your way. For years, it's been happening - don't know how I missed All the ways you controlled me; I answered to you. Always did what you wanted, I'm realizing this; The extent of the selfishness you put me through. But it changed not too long ago, didn't it, dear? Oh yes, I grew a spine, and things started to change. And, oh, you didn't like what you started to hear. My defying your wants nearly made you deranged. People grow and they change; it's especially true For me ever since I was finally free. So how sad to discover it's not true for you, You're the same as you were, and as you'll always be. That's the person you are, who you've been since we met And it never caused issues until days of late. The things that you've said are things you will regret, Because I have no room for your envy-fueled hate. You've become quite the mean one - I'm sorry, it's true. You're no longer the person to whom I could turn. It's a shame (it's a **** shame), but yes, we are through. And it will not be me who is nursing the burn. Maybe one day you'll change, and we might reunite. I'm not getting my hopes up - there's danger in that. Until then, I hope you learn to treat people right, Because no one desires to stand by a brat. Maybe I am the first to address how you are, But I won't be the last, and this, I can assure. Your poignant self-righteousness won't get you far, And I'm sorry - for your case, there isn't a cure. So remember me now; you'll remember me then, When you lose all those who used to stand at your side. You'll remember the disrespect you showed your friend, For alas, she won't be there, holding you as you cry.
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52
a place of love away from the unforgiving fire of lust a place of belonging away from the binding ropes of family a place of acceptance away from the cold stare of judgement a place of freedom away from the pen of righteousness a place of comfort, for yourself as you are, as a whole without conditions do you know of such a place? is it too much to ask? i know of such a place i’ve made it for you inside my heart the door is open please walk in dear sister
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Apr 5, 2018
Apr 5, 2018 at 1:54 AM UTC
a place for you
Oh God you are the greatest, nothing may compare to you, Giving, oh merciful Lord, carry happiness through Oh the one who gives and takes, give us all that is great, And in our times of difficulty and need, send us aid Oh please don't let our vision fade... We are on our way onto your straight path, righteousness is paid You are the radiance of the heavens and the earth So please don't let us become corrupt, from our beginning..the birth Oh Lord, you are the only one I serve, I turn to you with a heart, filled with love Everytime I recieve a blessing I turn to the clouds above Grant us a fear of you that will be a barrier between us and sin Please don't make our destiny the hellfire. Ruined, is what we would have been Free us from the fire of greed Its what makes our heart bleed, Kindness and patience is what we need! Oh you are forgiving...so forgive us ~ Umi
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Dec 20, 2017
Dec 20, 2017 at 9:22 AM UTC
Praising Prayer
Why do you do what you do, For many it is said for bounty adieu, To live as long as they can reach, Held in love that was not preached, So, Why do you do what you do, Made in choice and decisions anew, Lined with the convictions of the soul and hue, Written in stone or chanced by clues, So, Why do you do what you do, Searching for a golden cue, Cure for the soldered shame, Living towards a blackless blame, So, Why do you do what you do, Is it for naught or is it for thought, Is it for the righteousness in your mind that you sought?
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Jul 31, 2016
Jul 31, 2016 at 11:48 AM UTC
Why do...?
No legacy is as rich as honesty to leave behind No asset is as great as honesty that enriches mind No voice is as powerful as honesty,your heart to guide No word is as meaningful as honesty to swell with pride. One who adheres to principle and facts , is honest One who loves for-what-than-who-you are , is honest One who inspires to be fearless and upfront , is honest One who dares to raise voice against injustice, is honest In actions ,words and dealings -be clear and transparent Corruption,bribery,flattery and nepotism-be always against Greats endure pain to follow righteousness,however difficult On life’s tight walk ,do not crave to strike rich without sweat. Win over lies,deceit ,treachery with love,respect and fair play Honesty is a jewel that shines-shines brighter,rest fades away Honesty is a bitter pill to gulp,gulp you must to lead the way Quality than Quantity of life matters most,at the end of the day. A child should be taught to be honest at a very early age Set an example by emoting honesty at every step and stage Honesty instils compassion ,concern,credibility and courage It is a virtue that differentiates between a devil and a sage. Stakes may be high ,don’t ever compromise on values A Right can never ever be Wrong ,however one views Forever under HIS scanner,keep hands clean and heart true (HIS ...GOD) Give best to the humanity the best will come back to you. (C) Bhargavi Ravindra ...........B’lore Dated : 09/05/2019
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Oct 11, 2019
Oct 11, 2019 at 7:13 AM UTC
Honesty
Clothe yourself in the full armor of God and be able to withstand the Devil’s schemes; know that he’s only the father of lies, looking to destroy your earthly dreams. Cover yourself with Christ’s Breastplate of Righteousness and protect your torn heart; your essence has been purchased for His Kingdom, meaning that you’re meant… to be set apart. Gird your waist with the Belt of Truth and stand firm with integrity and honesty;   don’t allow your flesh’s nature to interfere with conditions that you need observe and see. Shod your feet with the Gospel’s peace; keep from searching for earthly trouble; instead congregate with the Body of Christ and focus on your faith becoming redoubled. The ongoing battle is not with flesh and blood; wield Faith’s Shield to quench life’s fiery darts. Remember that the wiles of Satan are limited! So outmaneuver him with your spiritual smarts. Put on your Helmet of Salvation, for the battles are within one’s mind. Allow the Divine knowledge of The Word to resonate with your spirit and find… yourself continually praying in the spirit and with understanding on all occasions. Be alert to His transformational messages, for upholding Godly principles and persuasions. Resist the Devil now and he will flee; endeavor to thwart the enemy’s attack; be strong in the Lord with power of His might; promises of victory have been already stacked. For we don’t wage war with human methods and plans. We use mighty weapons to knock down evil strongholds and breakdown every proud argument that keeps people from knowing God… as His Kingdom, continues to unfold. . . . Author Notes: Loosely based on: Eph 2:2, 6:10-20; 1 Thes 5:5-8; Joel 2:12-13; Rom 4:5; Jam 4:7; 2 Cor 10:3-5 Learn more about me and my poetry at: http://www.amazon.com/Reaching-Towards-His-Unbounded-Glory/dp/1419650513/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie;=UTF8&qid;=1388058560&sr;=1-1&keywords;=reaching+towards+his+unbounded+glory By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2013, All rights reserved.
0
Jan 16, 2014
Jan 16, 2014 at 10:59 AM UTC
Poem: Armor of God
Clothe yourself in the full armor of God and be able to withstand the Devil’s schemes; know that he’s only the father of lies, looking to destroy your earthly dreams. Cover yourself with Christ’s Breastplate of Righteousness and protect your torn heart; your essence has been purchased for His Kingdom, meaning that you’re meant… to be set apart. Gird your waist with the Belt of Truth and stand firm with integrity and honesty;   don’t allow your flesh’s nature to interfere with conditions that you need observe and see. Shod your feet with the Gospel’s peace; keep from searching for earthly trouble; instead congregate with the Body of Christ and focus on your faith becoming redoubled. The ongoing battle is not with flesh and blood; wield Faith’s Shield to quench life’s fiery darts. Remember that the wiles of Satan are limited! So outmaneuver him with your spiritual smarts. Put on your Helmet of Salvation, for the battles are within one’s mind. Allow the Divine knowledge of The Word to resonate with your spirit and find… yourself continually praying in the spirit and with understanding on all occasions. Be alert to His transformational messages, for upholding Godly principles and persuasions. Resist the Devil now and he will flee; endeavor to thwart the enemy’s attack; be strong in the Lord with power of His might; promises of victory have been already stacked. For we don’t wage war with human methods and plans. We use mighty weapons to knock down evil strongholds and breakdown every proud argument that keeps people from knowing God… as His Kingdom, continues to unfold. . . . Author Notes: Loosely based on: Eph 2:2, 6:10-20; 1 Thes 5:5-8; Joel 2:12-13; Rom 4:5; Jam 4:7; 2 Cor 10:3-5 Learn more about me and my poetry at: http://www.amazon.com/Reaching-Towards-His-Unbounded-Glory/dp/1419650513/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie;=UTF8&qid;=1388058560&sr;=1-1&keywords;=reaching+towards+his+unbounded+glory By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2013, All rights reserved.
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46
here's to a package of Marlboro Reds in the hands of someone other than the Marlboro Man standing in for those slack-jawed outlaws my heroes now lack jaws tongues lungs I swear it's been too long since I inhaled manhood The Great Darrell Winfield rolled packed and filtered into the only thing I know that makes a man a man the essence of cowboy boots and farmer's tan in every drag see, I inhale my heroes all the dusty red-necked cowboys Darrell Winfield and my dad men whose lives went up in smoke to coat my throat in my own self-righteousness I'm frightened this is all that I'll have left of him lung cancer and the lingering stench of cigarettes he always smelled of cigarettes he'd pull me into these firm embraces he held so long that he'd suffocate me in tacky business and cigarette smoke masked only faintly by a poor man's cologne still I breathed him in until I'd start to choke it was too much man to handle my grandpa told me “smoking doesn't send you straight to Hell, but it sure does make you smell like you've already been there” he was a grown man cursing crying lying dying by himself trying to drown out the inferno with a case of beer but sobriety finds you sometime and I'd rather suffocate in cigarettes than lose him altogether and even if he smells like Hell at least that means he made it back
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May 21, 2012
May 21, 2012 at 6:14 PM UTC
The Marlboro Man