"tabernacle" poems
be washed away
(with spoken word inserts
by soulsurvivor)
When I die don't cry for me
In my Father's arms I'll be
The wounds this world
left on my soul
Will all be healed and I'll be whole
Sun and moon will be replaced
By the light of Jesus Face
And I will not be ashamed
For my Savior knows my name.
- chorus -
It don't matter where you bury me
I'll be Home and I'll be FREE
It don't matter where I lay
All my tears be washed away
SS insert -
Persecution I'll expect.
It's not surprising. Folks reject.
Still I LOVE my Lord so dear
I'll forgive and have no fear
Faced with evil on all sides
In the Lord I will abide
No force of hell can remove Thee
It don't matter where you bury me
---
Gold and silver blind the eye
Temporary riches lie
Come and eat from heaven's store
Come and drink and thirst no more
So weep not for me my friend
When my time below does end
For my life belongs to Him
Who will raise the dead again
- chorus -
SS insert -
I will pass. That much is clear.
I'll leave my tabernacle here
Life is short, the time doth fly
So I'll go to kiss the sky
Then I'll know all mysteries
It don't matter where you bury me
A song written by Julie Miller
Performed by Emmy Lou Harris
and Selah (this version is below)
With inserts by SoulSurvivor
Jul 2, 2015
Jul 2, 2015 at 2:16 PM UTC
The beauty of comatose can only be seen through
the eyes of a wizard in a blizzard
strutting in garlic slippers,
or Christ with knees bent at the tabernacle
peeling bananas and kicking prayers
farther than eternity with each gapping second,
or like Basquiat slumped back to the wall,
with ounces of speedball dancing through his veins,
eating 80’s free-based fried chicken *******
as his eyelids paints beautiful nightmares of lemon flowers
and Bacchus bacon over a glycopyrrolate desert
of flagrant cuckold buffoonery.
Or like leprechauns burning chocolate ******* candles
on the mantle of Zion, sipping oatmeal sprinkled
with Staten Island malt liquor bacon.
or like Tupac reading the thoughts of Mother Shipton
through the daze of California cannabis
and hearing the ominous voice of Plutarch sing death assignments
from heaven to Assassins on horsebacks goggling ***** water
to wet the dry bones of their throats as they prepare to fulfill
the gospel of self-fulfilling prophecies of being fell by ***** bullets.
Or like sophisticated wallets of spice and kitchen characters in a bald head
cooking chemical kisses and 18 February nights under Moloch’s skin,
where constitutions are written in charcoal diaries with Egyptian ciphers and razors.
“I had rain sowed into the pockets of my sneakers and composed 1310 eulogies
at the basement of king David’s tower,” said the Kraftwerkian caricature,
as he dangles cigarettes in remembrance of Klaus Nomi and philosophizes on the proliferation
of poetic vandalism at urinals where modernism failed under the phosphorescence of coloration at the avenue of no trees where Picasso's "Guernica" **** Lies All.
Jul 17, 2012
Jul 17, 2012 at 6:01 PM UTC
from
On the Infinite Universe and Worlds
(DE L'INFINITO UNIVERSO ET MONDI)
by GIORDANO BRUNO
1548 – 17 February 1600
burned at the stake in Rome's Campo de' Fiori
THREE SONNETS
Passing alone to those realms
The object erst of thine exalted thought,
I would rise to infinity: then I would compass the skill
Of industries and arts equal to the objects.
There would I be reborn: there on high I would foster for thee
Thy fair offspring, now that at length cruel
Destiny hath run her whole course
Against the enterprise whereby I was wont to withdraw to thee.
Fly not from me, for I yearn for a nobler refuge
That I may rejoice in thee. And I shall have as guide
A god called blind by the unseeing.
May Heaven deliver thee, and every emanation
Of the great Architect be ever gracious unto thee:
But turn thou not to me unless thou art mine.
Escaped from the narrow murky prison
Where for so many years error held me straitly,
Here I leave the chain that bound me
And the shadow of my fiercely malicious foe
Who can force me no longer to the gloomy dusk of night.
For he who hath overcome the great Python
With whose blood he hath dyed the waters of the sea
Hath put to flight the Fury that pursued me.
To thee I turn, I soar, O my sustaining Voice;
I render thanks to thee, my Sun, my divine Light,
For thou hast summoned me from that horrible torture,
Thou hast led me to a goodlier tabernacle;
Thou hast brought healing to my bruised heart.
Thou art my delight and the warmth of my heart;
Thou makest me without fear of Fate or of Death;
Thou breakest the chains and bars
Whence few come forth free.
Seasons, years, months, days and hours --
The children and weapons of Time -- and that Court
Where neither steel nor treasure avail
Have secured me from the fury [of the foe].
Henceforth I spread confident wings to space;
I fear no barrier of crystal or of glass;
I cleave the heavens and soar to the infinite.
And while I rise from my own globe to others
And penetrate ever further through the eternal field,
That which others saw from afar, I leave far behind me
Jul 7, 2015
Jul 7, 2015 at 8:09 PM UTC
1634
Talk not to me of Summer Trees
The foliage of the mind
A Tabernacle is for Birds
Of no corporeal kind
And winds do go that way at noon
To their Ethereal Homes
Whose Bugles call the least of us
To undepicted Realms
4.4k
893
Drab Habitation of Whom?
Tabernacle or Tomb—
Or Dome of Worm—
Or Porch of Gnome—
Or some Elf’s Catacomb?
4k
...Sky Isa Love!!!!
THAT IS ALL!!!!!!!!!
BILL WITHERS - LEAN ON ME LYRICS
http://www.youtube.com/watch?NR=1&v;=JR0NZqu6igg
Lean On Me (Live) From a 1973 Concert
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Wpof8s5ZTg
Love potion number 9, The Searchers
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7rXhXLsNJL8
White Wine In The Sun by Tim Minchin
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fCNvZqpa-7Q
MOTOWN MAGIC!!!!!!
Sa Sa Go Go Go
BEST OF MOTOWN....BREATHE...Sky Isa Love
I Can't Get Next To You, Psychedelic Shack (the Temptations),
Bernadette (The Four Tops),
Everyday People (Sly & The Family),
I just Called To Say I Love You (Stevie Wonder)
Ain't Too Proud To Beg (The Temptations),
Back In My Arms Again (The Supremes)
Build Me Up Buttercup (The Foundations)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=--jWPzNNdN4
Best Of Motown Part 2 Video Mix of;
My Cherie Amour (Stevie Wonder),
I'm Gonna Make You Love Me (Diana Ross & The Supremes with the Temptations),
What's Going On (Marvin Gaye)
Love Child (Diana Ross & The Supremes),
Runaway Child Running Wild (The Temptations),
For Once In My Life (Stevie Wonder},
I'm Losing You (The Temptations),
What Does It Takes (Jr Walker & The All Stars),
Stop In The Name Of Love (Diana Ross & The Supremes),
Reach Out I'll Be There (Four Tops),
I Can't Help Myself (Four Tops),
Get Ready (The Temptations),
Dancing In The Street (Martha & The Vandellas)
I Hear A Symphony (Diana Ross & The Supremes).
https://www.youtube.com/watch?NR=1&v;=VTe06PrXwo4
Top Tracks for Earth, Wind & Fire....
Starts with;
"Fantasy" (1977)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kTQJ2QiK4QU&playnext;=1&list;=AL94UKMTqg-9AIdf-oDDL0ZRzIehPw5WY6
Top Tracks for Diana Ross & the Supremes
Starts with;
Love Child!!!!
Beautiful imagery!!!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_IluVWcNtR8&list;=AL94UKMTqg-9BkdB7ckbcLpD9AIriJX-5P
**The Power of Music & Images
Used On One Of The Most Popular
& Most Loved Ballads Of All Time, Enjoy!!!**
***Top Tracks for Chicago
Starts with;***
Hard To Say I'm Sorry
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zqq3tW3iACw&playnext;=1&list;=AL94UKMTqg-9ABX4lv1Ast8ZktnOYg-vpB
Okay so double triple down on this!!!!!!!!
LOVE CHILD Diana Ross & The Supremes
***~Sky Isa Love~~
What can I say my first album;***
LOVE CHILD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Gets me every time!!!!!!!
More Beautiful Imagery!!!
Afu Ra Ka ALL!!!!! (see note)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x2icqNPcNS4
EARTH WIND & FIRE-WOULD YOU MIND
...Sky Isa Love
very beautiful once again!!!!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2rInQEQ-yUc
A Motown mega-mix mashup: Motor City's biggest hits combined with classic Christmas songs, sung by your favorite Motown stars.
Includes....
"I Saw My Girl Kissing Santa Claus"
"I Jingle That Emotion"
"I Heard It From The Red Nosed Reindeer"
"Claus Get Next To You"
"Santa Was a Rollin' Stone"
"Ain't No Silent First Noel"
...as performed by....
Stevie Wonder
Michael Jackson
Smokey Robinson
The Temptations
The Supremes
The Mormon Tabernacle Choir
...and, of course, the Funk Brothers.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fNvoSf2389k
THAT IS ALL!!!
LOVE ALL!!!!
Sa Sa Ra!!!!
Dec 26, 2012
Dec 26, 2012 at 7:28 PM UTC
Byron and I play
The All Topics Open.
Eighteen holes
Invariably draws nostalgic.
Byron mentioned he went to the WWF in Detroit.
I sliced into a childhood memory
Of midgets at Cobo Hall:
Cobo Hall, Saturday Night. Be there!
Byron started pitching old wrestlers and holds:
Leaping Larry Shane, great with the Anaconda Vice;
Killer Kowalski vs. Bobo Brazil, pinned by the Crucifix and Abdominal Stretch;
**** the Bruiser* tagging with The Sheik
To defeat Gorgeous George and Crybaby McCarthy.
Byron went on in detail, with tabernacle authority:
“It was a Bear Hug that quickly swung in to a Quarter,
then Half,
then Full Nelson;
Crybaby bounced off a knee,
Was driven to the mat and pinned
By a Front Sleeper.”
(Jimmy's newborn picture faded in,
and the pose he naturally struck
baby arms
cocked like a sideshow muscle man
Daddy quipped: **** the Bruiser*.
I was Leaping Larry Shane.
Daddy quipped: Larry the Stooge.
I didn't see that move)
Byron was intense. I could hear, but
I was zoning.
Crybaby and Front Sleeper dazed me.
How time Venns.
I was pinned today.
I recognized the feeling.
Tagged, then pinned by
The inescapable
Baby Nelson.
You know the hold.
On your back.
Baby on chest, face down.
Pinned.
Aug 9, 2014
Aug 9, 2014 at 10:05 AM UTC
Permit me, Julia, now to go away;
Or by thy love decree me here to stay.
If thou wilt say that I shall live with thee,
Here shall my endless tabernacle be:
If not, (as banish’d), I will live alone
There where no language ever yet was known.
2.4k
They say hell is not a place
But they liken it to fires
That constantly purge and burn
Kind of like our minds
And if I had a dime
For every human's ***** thought
I'd have a copper-nickel planet
With a thousand moons or more
And if this heart is my tabernacle
Could I withstand the day eternal
Or would I just become another
Abscess, maniacal
Cause like the space they claim is there
Around me all I see
Is a whole lot of nothing
Interspersed with dying breeds
And what they don't tell you
Either Or don't exist
We're all right as a button
And all wrong as an implanted chip
And just the other day
My lack of energy
Got a dead clock to start
And a bruise on my knee
So ship me where there is no one
South of the Antarctic cause
I want to see some sundog halos
And play with diamond dust
They say hell is not a place
But they liken it to fires
That constantly purge and burn
Kind of like these times
Nov 19, 2011
Nov 19, 2011 at 6:01 PM UTC
I am too bold the obsession of our seperation
A child torn from childhood shattered hourglass
In her eyes I see myself swinging from a limb
Her words tying the noose and the smiles pull it tight
She would have me gasping goodbyes spittle laced
Bullet hot fingers tracing the blown out blue veins
Dopesick for her cracked lips I would lick them clean of venom
But she is too bold for such infatuation
She would rather pick the lock
The cage in my chest where it quietly rests
One yellow eye open fangs glimmer scarlet hues
Her neck hangs back in laughter
Nape porcelaind frail statuesque
She would snap my fingers
Like a branch and I would laugh
At pain syringed and sterile
Alcohol stained breath
I think you've found the sweet spot
Hot barrel to my temple
Do me one last favor
Release me from this tabernacle
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 11:16 PM UTC
I have come to the temple
Of your body. I kneel and prey
Like a sinner. The holy water
Beads low on your forbidden
Tabernacle, sears my touch
In cleansing flame, what I do
And what will be done is all
For unrepentant confessions
And penances. Let me truly
Learn the sacraments of flesh
Before I bathe in your wicked
Innocence and commit my sin
At being mortal in your nimbus
Chambers, let the mercies rain
After the fall of my fellowing
Creature, for this night is blood
Sabbath, and sacrilege under
A Pagan moon and let the dawn
In the rising sun of mute morning
Be my absolution, our benediction,
Let the moving waters enfold us,
Pure as lambs, as washed babes,
Baptismal.
Jul 20, 2012
Jul 20, 2012 at 7:21 PM UTC
not rooted,
not foundational,
but transitional,
I mean - tabernacle.
Following cloud and flame,
and restless for Jordan.
not stilted
not intellectual
but relational,
more than routine ritual.
Led by spirit, filled by flame
and restless for Jordan.
Apr 16, 2019
Apr 16, 2019 at 12:32 PM UTC
An Imaginary Meeting
In the Forest of Forgetting
Another Excuse to Get High
Her Tongue Is Like a Jellyfish
Organical Mechanical
Nocturnal Experimental
Technology out of Control
A Night Like No one else Has Seen
-
Rebellion in Module Seven
Tabernacle of Illusion
Significant Deviation
The Catacomb Simulation
Psychedelic Liberation
Psychedelic Generation
Human Race Is in Extinction
Neurosynaptic Malfunction
Feb 3, 2019
Feb 3, 2019 at 2:54 PM UTC
We're on a bomb site
behind the tabernacle
looking for some
ammunition for
my catapult
which I carry
in the back pocket
of my jeans
Fay is looking
amongst the debris
of old bombed
out houses
or just area
left where
houses stood
it's a sunny day
holiday time
no school
-makes me happier-
is this one too big?
she asks
I look over
no that's a good one
I say
she brings it over
to where I stand
she holds it
between her
thin finger and thumb
and she drops it
into my palm
I weigh it up
and down then
drop it into
my pouch
-a knotted handkerchief-
she looks at me
her blue eyes
searching me
her fair hair
brought behind
her head in
a ponytail
have you ever
thought about self?
I look at her
self?
I say
what do you mean?
the I of us
what we call me
I look nonplus
and look down
for more small stones
a nun at school
said the I
in Christianity means
the I crossed out
in the form
of a cross
in other words
our self is not
more important
than that I or self
of another
and as a Christian
we should put
the self
of another first
I find a small stone
and pick it up
and finger it
so the cross is
supposed to show
self crossed out?
I say uncertainly
she looks at the stone
I'm holding
yes that's what
she was saying
self denial I think
is what she meant
Fay says
scratching her head
this nun at school
does she ever
tell jokes?
Fay frowns
no not as far
as I've heard
well I could
tell you one
O'Brien told me
but it's not for girls
to hear
not girls
as good as you
I say
Daddy says jokes
are sinful to say
and to hear Fay says
when I innocently
told him one
the other year
a girl at school told me
he spanked me
and said never
to hear or say jokes
ever again
what was the joke?
I ask
shouldn't say
she says
there's only you
and me here
no one will know
if you tell me
except God
and I guess He's
heard it before
I say
she looks at me
her blue eyes
staring
ok but don't
tell Daddy
I told you
she says
I promise not to tell
your old man
I say
well a man took his wife
to the cinema
and as they waited
in the queue
a man in front of them
passed wind
and the husband
said to the man
how dare you
pass wind
in front of my wife
and the man said
sorry I didn't know
it was her turn
I laugh and so does she
and I like how
her eyes sparkle
when she laughs
and her face lights up
like a summer day
then she's looks
at her hands
that was good
I say
but it's sinful
she says
but the brightness
in her face and eyes
didn't go away.
Jun 17, 2015
Jun 17, 2015 at 3:01 AM UTC
Saintly cassock,
Glittering altar
Ornamental pulpit.
Driving the congregants
in a paroxysm of fib,
Gullibility enshrines adherents
hearts.
Do you know the Messiah more
than the apostles ?
Thou traders in the temple.
Parrotic tongues set out
commands
Loquacious sweet-coated mouths
misdirects faithfuls.
But the uncreated Creator who
creates creatures watches
Dreadful silence astonishingly
permeates the entireness
of the universe.
Do you preach love?
Do you follow peace with all?
Ye robbers in the temple.
Command darkness to produce
light.
But you turned moonlight into
tale.
Can you display Davidic dance
steps on the road?
Profanity of sanctuary with
false homiletics.
Merchants of dross in tabernacle
Speak.
Let us hear you.
Preach
To the congregants.
Righteousness afar from the
apron of faith.
Charity locked up in the
tunic of hope.
Sanctity of holiness sprinkled
into the tributary of sin.
Commanding the stars to turn
to sun,
Captains of night in light.
Ye robbers in the sanctuary.
Pastoral advertisers of chattels
in the tabernacle,
Merchandising gold dross in
sermonic hymns.
Sugar-coated doctrine wept in
the tomb of Lazarus.
Prompting Him to weep again?
Ye merchants in synagogue.
Disentangle faithfuls from the
webs of worriment.
Dislodge congregants out of the
shackles of sin.
Deliver ignoramus from the
isle of incendiary.
Let the sifter of strength
separate out afflictions from
feebleminded faithfuls.
Ye robbers in the temple
You love prayers more than God
But who answers prayers?
Dec 16, 2018
Dec 16, 2018 at 3:45 AM UTC
your mother
was a girl with ashes in her eyes and gold in her nostrils
a chain delicate as autumn leading from ear to the centre
of her heart, of the place where our priest's holy incense found its sole purpose.
I just assumed that she
was a wild wanton that ran through the ashes and dust of the
streets of the market at dust, and she loved and did not love
and not loving made it easier to lay on the tabernacle of a sacred courtesan.
we don't have those anymore
they drove them out screaming, naked, heads shaven
as barren and scorched as the desert in their dying breaths
and Maryam, we don't have those anymore,
the word is not courtesan but *****
but I took it on faith out of love for you
when you told me with fire in your eyes that your mother
saw the face of God in between the sheets of paper
as a maiden pure, the Egyptian lotus in her secret sweetness only God knew,
Psyche drawing back the veil of Isis, looking at the face of her star-birthing lover.
to love you was to look at the sun
and be burned, enflamed, seared into agony and nothingness
and yet to be clothed in the flesh of the sun anew
and when I wore nothing but the star-strewn gold dusk of my skin
I wore the sacred mantle of a courtesan.
Dec 21, 2012
Dec 21, 2012 at 11:17 PM UTC
I am fond of "Spackle"
and all "ackle" words.
That makes him cackle
and it tickles my tackle
I scream like a grackle
and my ******* crackle
which raises some hackles.
Nov 28, 2013
Nov 28, 2013 at 3:38 PM UTC
The world will follow your steps
Discovering the mysteries of roses
Emerged from your footsteps
It’ll watch the image where
Your face will nourish
The cost of their glutton
They will see in your forehead
The blood-dots under epidermis
The prints of Sagittarius constellation
Amidst the shores of emerald sparkling leafs
Life-giving leafs
Remained after a serial blasts
They’ll wander
They’ll build the Tabernacle for their progeny
They’ll learn the lesson
The primordial one
They have forgotten through eons
And reunion with the ether-ic double
Somewhere wandering
In the vast space of cosmos
The visible and invisible
The perceptible and imperceptible
They will understand that they are now
Hardly human to rejoice in their small community
Everything will be different
Apr 18, 2012
Apr 18, 2012 at 7:39 AM UTC
.
I have come to the temple
Of your body. I kneel and prey
Like a sinner. The holy water
Beads low on your forbidden
Tabernacle, sears my touch
In cleansing flame, what I do
And what will be done is all
For unrepentant confessions
And penances. Let me truly
Learn the sacraments of flesh
Before I bathe in your wicked
Innocence and commit my sin
At being mortal in your nimbus
Chambers, let the mercies rain
After the fall of my fellowing
Creature, for this night is blood
Sabbath, and sacrilege under
A Pagan moon and let the dawn
In the rising sun of mute morning
Be my absolution, our benediction,
Let the moving waters enfold us,
Pure as lambs, as washed babes,
Baptismal.
Aug 12, 2016
Aug 12, 2016 at 11:00 PM UTC
You always transcend my sadness
with your hypnotic stillness,
your entrancing symphonies.
My thoughts go back to the banks of Langat*,
where one day a little boy sat alone,
just only five,
bewildered, in a canoe.
From the sea,
from the streams,
from the rain,
you chanted a calming mantra to soothe him,
calling him to dissolve
in your awe-inspiring presence.
Your aquamarine sheen paints
the intricacies of all that I'm.
In the cool blue depth of your stillness,
I long to create the tabernacle of my being.
Never I thought
your melodies could become
the war cry of a devilish psyche!
Today I'm perplexed,
when I hear the anguished human cries
from the twirls of your turbid anger.
I realise
you’ve become an enigma
that pulls me to the depths of a
crazy conundrum.
How many more shades of anger you hide
in the burning red heart of the mantra you chant
to give me a heavenly bliss, Oh Water?
Sep 18, 2018
Sep 18, 2018 at 4:41 AM UTC
The eye was hurt plenty of times before.
In a hollow filled with nice things,
they overflowed, no one was a baby to a right hand.
In the other hand, field of moms trying so desperately to avoid babies,
moms setting all toilets and fingers as contraception,
moms anxious about boys and suspicious about girls.
Boys apparently had those pregnancy machines and girls were the neutral side,
boys just had to plant smarty seed to see what number would show in girls' innocent tummy.
Boys grow as engineers and the engines often roar like crazy,
though it is now different from what I was taught about girls.
-----------
-----------
Skin was just some other walls,
but, really, skin is marshmallow
even the softest tongue can destroy.
You know, tummy
isn't that really innocent either.
Tummy was a determined sister in a dim church,
tummy was mother mary and holy spirit,
tummy was not an apetite for what wasn't in the tabernacle.
Tummy now has cracked her shell, so I see inside,
apparently tummy has some other things beside a fertile empty land.
The gases and the blood are in different tunnels, though
there is something else about miss tummy womb.
She isn't at all neutral, she isn't at all an item of the season.
She softens every time it rains, she makes
her own weather in her own territory.
I now know, neutral was only the word stuck between scared parents' teeth,
neutral was only the gift we didn't know was a troll,
neutral was only a paradox in the most destructive way possible.
-----------
-----------
Careful with essentially hurtful words, we
sweat, with perfect heat,
as the skins melt into one giant chewy lump.
What I didn't know about skin was
that girls had skin too,
girls just were not in their element back then;
I think girls with metallic things were sinners just a little bit too checkmate,
I think girls were housewives just a little bit too godlike.
Oct 22, 2015
Oct 22, 2015 at 7:09 AM UTC
I have come to the temple
Of your body. I kneel and prey
Like a sinner. The holy water
Beads low on your forbidden
Tabernacle, sears my touch
In cleansing flame, what I do
And what will be done is all
For unrepentant confessions
And penances. Let me truly
Learn the sacraments of flesh
Before I bathe in your wicked
Innocence and commit my sin
At being mortal in your nimbus
Chambers, let the mercies rain
After the fall of my fellowing
Creature, for this night is blood
Sabbath, and sacrilege under
A Pagan moon and let the dawn
In the rising sun of mute morning
Be my absolution, our benediction,
Let the moving waters enfold us,
Pure as lambs, as washed babes,
Baptismal.
Nov 1, 2012
Nov 1, 2012 at 2:49 PM UTC
The heavens declare the glory
of God; and the firmament
sheweth his handywork.
2 Day unto day uttereth
speech, and night unto night
sheweth knowledge.
3 There is no speech nor
language, where their voice is not
heard.
4 Their line is gone out
through all the earth, and their
words to the end of the world. In
them hath he set a tabernacle for
the sun.
5 Which is as a bridegroom
coming out of his chamber, and
rejoiceth as a strong man to run a
race.
6 His going forth is from the
end of the heaven, and his
circuit unto the ends of it: and
there is nothing hid from the
heat thereof.
7 The law of the Lord is
perfect, converting the soul, the
testimony of the Lord is sure,
making wise the simple.
8 The statutes of the Lord are
right, rejoicing the heart, the
commandment of the Lord is pure,
enlightening the eyes.
9 The fear of the Lord is clean,
enduring for ever: the judgments
of the Lord are true and righteous
altogether.
10 More to be desired are they
than gold, yea, than much fine
gold: sweeter also than honey and
the honeycomb.
11 Moreover by them is thy servant
warned: and in keeping of
them there is great reward.
12 Who can understand his
errors? cleanse thou me from
secret faults.
13 Keep back thy servant also
from presumptions sins; let them
not have dominion over me: then
shall I be upright, and I shall be
innocent from the great
transgression.
14 Let the words of my mouth,
and the meditation of my heart,
be acceptable in thy sight, O
Lord, my strength, and my
redeemer.
Jun 25, 2013
Jun 25, 2013 at 9:49 PM UTC
I have entered the house of water six legions deep. Once a canopy of creativity held me. The crown I wore was a set of stars unseen. The fragmented emotions have crystallized upon the tabernacle of David's house.
I look deeply to see the snow capped mountains of attainment are behind me. I have placed the world at my feet as the ibis called to the water. The stars glisten with secrets held quietly waiting for man to explore. The wind blows and the bell tolls for those with supreme spinning joy which is the life of us all.
Deep from memory and heaven smiles across the miles from those who have gone before? I know the nurturer of me was the greatest gift received deep within the focused dreams.
Nov 13, 2010
Nov 13, 2010 at 4:05 AM UTC
Good Lord I loved those old days.
They way that life it glowed.
West Virgina misty mountains-
a girl I used to know.
All the people I done roamed with.
oh the songs that we all sung.
In that subtle little accent-
the sunrise always young.
Thank you for your time Sir.
Pleasure to meetcha Ma'am.
Here's a kettle full of memories-
and a vessel to be manned.
As we ride across the channels.
All our demons strong in tow.
Its every tiny morsel-
that gives us strength to row.
Downward way past furthur.
Always fresh right on the mind.
Is the way the forest parted-
when we left it all behind.
Ah but never to be forsaken.
Somewhere on a shelf.
Is a little piece of all of you-
and a shadow of myself.
Holding a candle tightly.
Keeping up the pace.
An empty highway driving-
simply searching for some grace.
To keep up with ocean.
Then ride up with the wind.
Just to get up in the morning
find another place to swim.
Sep 8, 2010
Sep 8, 2010 at 1:54 PM UTC