I see the work of my hands
I see the results of my will
I set my eye over the lands
I know I was too weak on that hill
I didn’t realize the journey’s demands
The pains in my side remain still

I set my foot upon that path
Over my shoulder I saw my pain
I run from the Monster’s wrath
If his way is made, I will be slain
There on my arm, I see the ****** ****
It seems this journey will be in vain

The Monster haunts me in my dreams
He follows on this path with chasing
No matter how loud I cry, it seems they won’t hear my screams
No one knows just what I’m facing
I run until I see flowing streams
And find my love, we’re embracing

From this dream I wake
The truth in this dream I dread
With this Monster, my will may break
But on this path, I will tread
And I will walk until I ache
On the path my Father led

I wander down this lonely road
In this deep dark wood
As I walked alone, my pace it slowed
Until I stopped and stood
By the streams that flowed
And for a time, all was good

The fire I had built begins to smolder
The smoke from the dead warmth rose
The night then grew colder
I thought for sure I would be froze
Then I saw the Monster over my shoulder
I can see in his eyes, my fear shows

I run hastily away from the Monster
He chases me through the dark
I know he leads me to slaughter
If only I could create a spark
In the darkness, I would no longer wander
Then maybe I might hit my mark

The Monster leaves me at sunrise
My pain vanishes with the light
My soul is calm like sunny skies
For a time, all is right
But as soon as the sun dies
There comes the pain of night

My night is filled with torment
And my days filled with fear
This journey is filled with lament
Oftentimes I fear the end is all too near
It seems something I cannot prevent
And the injuries I’ve acquired are all too severe

The pain is too great to continue down this road
Knowing the Monster is on my back
The weight I carry is too heavy of a load
The courage to continue is something I lack
But my Father gave me guide with the words he wrote
And with each encounter, I defend the Monster’s attack

Every night I see I’m not on my own
I’d be dead if not for my Father
With each fight, each night, I’ve grown
I no longer wonder why I bother
At the end, I’ll approach my Father’s throne
And the Monster will be but a scoffer

Still the Monster haunts when the sun is gone
It’s as if I’m stuck in his box
And I can never move on
Because still the Monster mocks
Weak. I feel as weak as a fawn
Yet somehow as strong as an ox

It’s a strange feeling
Being torn between pain and relief
Yet both are healing
It’s hard to hold to belief
When everything is reeling
When it’s always about a new leaf

Still I feel the pain from the hunt
The Monster always drawing blood
He’s always just steps behind, though I’m in front
I tread through deep mud
Only for him to catch me with his heavy brunt
Now I’m caught in this painful flood

Constantly I cry for my Father to save me
For someone to take me from my misery
But what I wanted was not what He gave me
A man came and was my victory
For my evil, He forgave me
And why He did is a mystery

He defeated the Monster on my part
He took on my pain and we limped down the path
He felt the pain I held in my heart
He experienced my pain from the Monster’s wrath
He had been with me from the start
Always interceding on my behalf

He acted as my brother
He defeated my tormentor
He cared for me like my mother
He dwelled in the pain left by my torturer
He was sent by my Father

The sun shines on us all, as well as the rain

Torrential downpours of pain, we lose and we gain

We veer into cliched territory to verbalize our response to more tragedies that a lost world continues to offer

The signs of the times the Holy Text forewarned becomes ever more visible...except to the blind and the Scoffer

Why does the blood of the innocent and unknowing continue to shed for the next man’s awakening of his own imminent flatline?

At times I, picture myself in someone else’s fate, how would I have handled myself in that same place?

How would I have responded with bullets suddenly flying around me as potential dead bodies surround me, in that unexpected moment of truth...which characteristic would have ultimately found me? cowardice...or courage?

I find myself at times discouraged by my struggle with self-assurance in knowing that my demonstrating answer would have been in the latter rather than the former

How many times have we entered into a school, mall, concert venue only to have a passing or pressing thought enter into our conscience only to ask “what if I’m not supposed to make it back out alive”?

I often wonder if Rachel Scott struggled with these internal inquiries in the years, months, days, hours, final seconds before she stepped foot on that columbine soil destined to receive her call to became a maytr for the Gospel she lived...and died for.

What exactly are we dying for? Are we dying to self? Or because of it?

Whether our final earthly breath is due to a natural cause or one unsuspecting...what are we dying for?

Many people will not be able to answer that question…until it is forever too late...

April 10, 2019

Come a day, reason peeks around the corner,
Wisdom spots the whole idea,
nothing hidden around
the edge,
she winks back.

The story is there
was this kid,

he has these uni-
que memories
odd
memes,
or easers of toils,
heartfelt
reward for sweated blood

proverbial guiding
memories
resting easy in the shadows

he sends songs soaring
some when
Dams break, knowns burst
thru bubbles in jeopardy
new f-izzy izy knots
loose the lowest layer of liege
let go
loosen
free. all for allegiance,
reciprocal give and take with no control
given to any lacking self
controlership

idle words redeemed by chance
take up the dance,
least friction
desidare
aitia
gentle
ease of flow, over under, around
, through, if it comes to that,

any which way ye find,
wind way,
Pollen Way,
River way, rolling
rocky mountain way

it was noised abroad, in the hill country.
We all knew.

Reason come with me,
we have heard we must war

some more,
we are feeling
fused with metal minded

souls set to unleash some
monster idea thing-ysdril-
whoops cyd-drethal
con-tributary
mythic
influence,
twist ing side
ways to es
scape the scoffer
from the
Welsh brig… abrupt

scene shift
like a real life movie

encrypted Welsh wonder words

the professors called thunderwords and
allowed only those umlauted
u prounouncers to speak

with proper compre
hensions,
you get that? Ubermenschken?

Controllership. that idea.
think what controllership would be,
if it were yours being weighed.

The Welsh had a word for that.
goruchwylwriaeth.

How was such a word lost?

How can we teach our kids
controllership when our nation
has no national tongue able

to roll wisdom into reasonless reality,
goruchwylwriaeth,

it's magic, if magi means much to you.

---
Ordovician rules. If I had a hammer.

Ord'vicians, hammer warriors,

hammering out justice all over this land,
as the bombs were falling,

for God's sake. Sake itself is assumed to have
meant "cause",
cause being reason, aition or aitia.
Reasonable reasonibility to
just ify now, as real.

So, since we agree,
we know right, when we taste it, or

do we take a chance on better, a bit more
than half the times?

Judge the controlership system.
What determines a good controller?

when can I assume you consider me no evil? Wordwise, id est.
assume (v.)
early 15c., "to arrogate, take upon oneself," from Latin assumere, adsumere "to take up, take to oneself, take besides, obtain in addition," from ad "to, toward, up to" (see ad-) + sumere "to take," from sub "under" (see sub-) + emere "to take," from PIE root em- "to take, distribute."
Meaning "to suppose, to take for granted without proof as the basis of argument" is first recorded 1590s; that of "to take or put on fictitiously" (an appearance, etc.) is from c. 1600. Related: Assumed; assuming. Early past participle was assumpt. In rhetorical usage, assume expresses what the assumer postulates, often as a confessed hypothesis; presume expresses what the presumer really believes. Middle English also had assumpten "to receive up into heaven" (especially of the ****** Mary), from the Latin past participle.

From <https://www.etymonline.com/search?q=assume>

(that which causes, which is not prophaseis)

it’s not perfect... but **** me... there’s a life to be lived... even if it’s just defined as walking the dog, or drinking a pint! let’s just rearrange the solar system spheres with a game of snooker to make summer random with winter of the least expected follow-up.*

you catch me playing with my fox / cat
purring his ****** slingshot
arousal
just where the spinal cord in music begins
and the evolutionary testament ends...
you catch me there in the drift of night...
and i’ll bet you 5 quid to have found quantum physics...
a particular instance in a universe of innumerable
stasis plurals of decipherable energy
to pluck and theorise, like autumnal flowers readily drifting
from the tsunami of green of summer to brown mahogany of autumn.
here’s one for the puppet engineered to dance
tugged at with its tail the solitary cursor;
paw print dot dot dot? i had my two thumbs on it,
squeezing out the hallucinatory juice of neglect,
with scoffer ready bouncers of peeled wallpaper about to
tattoo me in political conversation of slime slogans to shout!
i heard squatters were about... i didn’t hear anything from newcastle,
i guess the second mongolian invasion / investiture
came from the north... rather than east anglia / saudi arabia.

Goodbye unkind world
How I wish it wasn’t so
No relief have I found
In my blackened soul

It never seems to relent
And lingers by my side
Some kind of sick fantasy
That plagues your mind

I have held on for so long
And waited for what never came
I’m so sick of staring into the ceiling
There’s no one left to blame

I feel as a scoffer held out on the street
Watching other in delight
While slowly I retreat
But it is not by my choice
That I have met such disdain
No matter how much I attempt
This emptiness seems to hang

And for such times to look back
On the abundant joys that abound
Now seem to fade into oblivion
As I begin to slowly drown

The only time I feel alive
Is that of a revelrous sin
How lonely am I in this room
As liquid drips over my chin

How much I had dreamed
That you wouldn’t find me like this
Please don’t be sorrowed
I have finally found bliss

don't be afraid of what the world has to offer
because even back in olden days
Jesus saved the scoffer