"triune" poems
There are many gifts in God’s great creation
All part of His great economy of the order of things
The gift of breath
The gift of song and of music
The gift of life, of image, of love
The gift of all things
The gift of even --dare I say it-- death
He gifted all things that are
All is gifted unto us
All is given by the Triune God
In all gifted, there was still incompleteness
There was nothing to respond to God
So constructed into the image of God
Comes a gift better than any gift before given
With the breath of God flowing to our lungs
Wearing a crown of the honor and glory of God
This gift, these people- Us
He says to explore
He says to see the world that we have been gifted
To unwrap the gifts given
To gift our gifts to the world that we are exploring
But there was this problem, a tree
It was not a gift, in fact it was forbidden
Yet still, we unwrapped it, we took that which was not ours to take
We were overcome by death
Overcome by udder sadness
Overcome by sickness, and hurt
By this torturous, terrible thing
This terrible stolen anti-gift
And for it we paid a hefty price
We lost all we were
We lost all we were meant to be
No longer did we fulfill our meaning
Where we were to be gift givers
Where we were to be life to the world
Where we were to bless all things
We took that which was not offered
We broke our relationship with God
Not only did we suffer
But all creation suffered with and due to
Then came a new gift
A gift to restore
A gift to be freely taken
Yet a gift of great responsibility
This gift would set free
But also bind
This was a gift of all gifts
This was a gift to end all gifts
God Himself became man
Offering Himself unto death
So that all things could be made new
So all that was sad would become untrue
Now, as we were once to be
We could, ourselves, be gifts to the world
Blessing the world
Giving life to a lifeless
Our gifts were joined with Christ
With this gift, we would become like the gift we were
More like it than ever before
For Christ makes us more human than we've ever been
Where we would offer the world to The Father
And for the life of all things
Our priesthood would be restored
All things would be restored
All things would be made new
All sad things would come untrue
The world would be restored
Prepare the way!
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 8:50 PM UTC
Jesus, Son of The Father
Hanging on a Roman Cross
Pierced for the iniquity of men
Killed for the love of His bride
With nails in His hands
Swords in His sides
Thorns on His head
His body slain
The body to feed His bride
His blood poured
The blood to quench the Church
"This is my body"
To eat of it
To feed the bride.
The Body of Christ,
The Bread of Heaven
To delight in the Holy Eucharist,
The spiritual feast, in Communion with God
To worship the Holy Name of the Savior
"This is my blood"
To drink of it
To quench the bride.
The Blood of Christ,
The Cup of Salvation
To delight in the Holy Eucharist
The spiritual feast, in Communion with God
To worship the Holy Name of the Savior
Hanging on the Roman Cross
God, The Son Himself crying to the Father
"Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachtani?"
"My God, My God, why have You forsaken me?"
Plagued by the false view of the Father
The pagan god in the hearts of men
Inherited with the humanity of The Son
While the sin of man
Hangs with the Son of Man
The earth shaking
And hearts breaking
With eyes crying
And law tearing
With the world changing
And The Son dying
The trueness,
The oneness
Of the Father
United with The Son and Spirit
In communion with The Spirit and Son
The Gifts of God
For the People of God
To partake in whenever together
In Remembrance of the savior
Christ died for us
Feed on Him with our hearts
And remember our union in Him
With Faith and Thanksgiving
We are saved by the triune God of grace
By the Love of the triune God of love
By the Blessing of God Almighty
The Father, The Son, and The Holy Spirit
Be upon us and remain forever
Let us keep the feast!
Allelujah!
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 9:30 PM UTC
-A Psalm Of Johnson
Some people worship lifeless gods with multiple arms made of wood and stone,
But I worship the true Triune God who rules all from his glorious throne!
Sep 26, 2020
Sep 26, 2020 at 11:50 AM UTC
My heart - delicate,
and malleable
undulates
within two poles,
seamlessly juxtaposed -
beauty and affliction
capricious container-
truth and fiction;
the sheer surfeit
of choice
reverberates with
imperious diversion,
settled invitation-
loud and shiny things.
Hard to breathe,
I'm in exile
slave to my emotions,
obsequious and servile
barren, cold and mute
existence - the brute;
tilted reminiscence,
scars of loss
contrive frames
around moments -
footprints,
interminable -
being and time.
Infinite deity,
triune polyphony
artist of sublimity
smearing shades
of loneliness,
vestiges of faith,
to retrieve
hues of meaning;
oddly convivial
prophets
of reprieve.
Orpheus lost Eurydice
palpable discordancy
suffused in time
could not resolve
without verse
decidedly sonorous,
canvas showered pain,
splashed
Jackson Pollack stain
Love - onerous,
deep beneath
the veneer,
it's mercy severe.
Fiction from the first
Eden‘s fatal gift,
lucidity cursed
altered cosmos murmur,
parlance of
disordered elegance;
effusive language,
phrasing art nouveau
tacit script;
ensconced within
the fabric;
create a Thirst
torment - visceral
and immediate.
Ardor and innocence
once quenched,
render
pathos in proportion
to the pleasure,
conveyance of beatitude
The past absorbed
into the treasure,
Inscrutable Heart -
devotion and turpitude
desire, loathing and paucity
affinity in abundance,
fear and doubt
inhabit certitude.
©2009 & 2011 W.S. Warner
Aug 31, 2011
Aug 31, 2011 at 11:19 AM UTC
Could Juno’s self more sovereign presence wear
Than thou, ’mid other ladies throned in grace?—
Or Pallas, when thou bend’st with soul-stilled face
O’er poet’s page gold-shadowed in thy hair?
Dost thou than Venus seem less heavenly fair
When o’er the sea of love’s tumultuous trance
Hovers thy smile, and mingles with thy glance
That sweet voice like the last wave murmuring there?
Before such triune loveliness divine
Awestruck I ask, which goddess here most claims
The prize that, howsoe’er adjudged, is thine?
Then Love breathes low the sweetest of thy names;
And Venus Victrix to my heart doth bring
Herself, the Helen of her guerdoning.
1.6k
The house she grew up in
Is written in her heart
A decaying castle in EDSA
Separated from others
By the torrents of the road
The orange glow of its afternoons
Is the glow of her mind and body
Its rooms replicated in the way she talks
She moves and makes friends
Like the triune God
Which emanates from who?
Theodora or the house?
Jul 21, 2021
Jul 21, 2021 at 8:16 AM UTC
I have seen the world anew
and never seen beauty like my love
I hunger for her
she is sweeter than honey
kinder than a summer rain
I see her form and know I am unworthy,
to brush her flesh must be forbidden
to consume her is my every dream
the hunger to ravage her torments me
her curves and form are perfection
they grab and twist at all the passions of my soul
my body aches to see her flesh bare and glowing
God created her for me
yet I know I am unworthy of such beauty
so sublime she is that I ravage her at every opportunity
always knowing I am not worthy
my hunger still does not subside
to pleasure her is the pinnacle of my every dream
seeing her in rapture is like ten thousand sunsets
fire and passion calling for the night
her hair like golden strands of silk
cascading across the summit
flowing in the wind like tall grass in a summer field
with eyes deep and mysterious as the sea
blue as the spring sky
her ******* like two perfect suns
dancing through the sky
lighting all the world with warmth and passion
feeding all life as they follow their arcs
her hips and thighs like smooth dunes
formed by the soft wind curving and shaping them to perfection
slow and smooth shapes as only nature can sculpt
with its endless patience and mindless will
at her seat two perfect crescents
moving through the heavens overwhelming the stars
tracing orbits set from the beginning of time
their reflected light captivates
it consumes me as I bathe in its glory
where the dunes meet, golden fields bathed in the sun
an oasis of plenty awaits
The triune points form its boundaries
at the apex, the drive of my very existence awaits
in the sight of this glory
I tremble and quake
love and lust fill my heart
like being driving to madness
pursuing till she relents to me
opening her body to the rapture I demand
a kiss so deep and sweet
it takes our breath
her lips so soft
the suns heave with anticipation of glory
with crescents rocking the heavens
the earth moves with us
building, climbing, rising into the night
we must have release from this torment and pleasure
It comes like waves
we bathe in oceans of ecstasy
sweet release
sweet release
sweet release
spent and weak for this short time
I can bathe in her beauty without the torment of my lusts
to caress her skin without hunger
It will not last
while it does I will whisper songs of love in her ear
my soul laid bare
not tainted by the lust of my *****
maybe minutes, maybe hours
my torment will resume
but for now
love alone
Dec 28, 2012
Dec 28, 2012 at 3:08 PM UTC
I've always desired to write like the Psalmists,
to give praise to the God who so loves me.
I seem to do better in light-hearted matters
and vulgarity.
But if I could write appropriately,
as if my words were even close to
the fullness of how much I mean them,
I'd say that I'd be nowhere without my true
Father.
The one who resides afar, but so near.
The omnipresent Triune God who loves me
more than I can stand to love myself.
(Notice how easily I make this about me, something I loathe.)
But my God, O God.
Your beauty is deeper than the ocean,
Your majesty stretches across the atmosphere;
nay, it stretches across the cosmos.
But a speck I am in Your glory
yet You love me all the same.
Yet You love me all the same.
The idea of You taking thought to create me,
with purpose no less,
blows my mind;
truthfully, my only hope
is to spread that love that you giveth me.
To reflect you.
To be a light unto others in Your name,
and yours alone.
Though my life feel like a desert,
You are an oasis.
Please fill my thirst.
Apr 14, 2016
Apr 14, 2016 at 12:22 PM UTC
Nothing.
I am in a cold, desolate life of
night.
A lonely wind blows,
battering the futile torch that
lights my sight into the unknown.
I am choked by fear of
the gloom that blocks my way,
the blackness that stalks my steps.
I stumble about in this deathly,
forbidding forest of regret,
this myriad maze of my wandering.
I am so far from home…
how long can I go on deprived
of a way to the other side?
No gathering years of learning,
no illuminated books of wisdom, nor the
knowledge that drives
the advancements of our time
could ever prepare me
for this journey.
Gold has no purchase here –
you cannot barter for the substance
absent in this place of isolation.
The hunger that gnaws inside
goes on and will not cease.
Human touch, kindness, community
and friendship flees from my
presence. Time haunts my heart.
Nothing matters.
All our plans, all of our achievements
accumulate on the shelf,
like trophies wasting space.
Many spend life chasing wealth and
seeking power, so concerned with
status and their own tastes.
Pleasure flows freely for the physically
flawless while praise rings riot
from a ravaged, ruined race.
The greatness of our cities
and our technologies,
the skill of our artists,
the discoveries of science,
the shock and awe of empire,
and the vain belief in human perfection
or of a superior God or Church to
crush all others…
all our striving for earthly gain is
meaningless.
That path is less than
nothing.
All this pales in comparison
to the power of that
One
Word.
That one word,
transfigured within that
triune expression that
connects us
at the heart of it all:
“I LOVE YOU”
In a world that is splitting apart
at the seams, our lives
unhinged with war-bred
turbulence of struggle and
destruction;
all around us…
all our lives – the point of all
that is –
boils down to that one word.
And I just want to say, I love you.
I love you so much!
I hope I am not too late.
Nothing else matters.
Nothing else.
Nothing.
Aug 27, 2017
Aug 27, 2017 at 5:01 PM UTC
A woman sans beauty code brilliance
And behaviour good is altogether dead.
Even a strumpet doth possess a semblance
Of those, let alone a wife whose head
And habits ought to be cultured code right.
Though up a jade can her appearances light
By reshaping her natural cast in the forge
Of a beauty parlour, making a devil like an angel
To seem; yet her mien and mentality shalt divulge
The truth. The smarts and demeanour of a damsel
Sublimer speak to the heart than the artifice
Of outward lustre, which's nay for marriage suffice.
Oct 11, 2012
Oct 11, 2012 at 5:13 AM UTC
1 equals 3?
And 3 equals 1?
What is this triune, this paradox of God?
One-third, again, and once more.
One is the foundation, another the living space, and the third the door.
What then of this mathematical complexity. Where 3 = 1 and 1 = 3?
Quite literally, this equation is wrong...
Or, perhaps the proof to this problem is too long?
9.29.16
Sep 29, 2016
Sep 29, 2016 at 3:26 AM UTC
Our faith embraces mystery;
a celestial echo of our Triune God.
Our Holy Catholic Church
mans only road to salvation.
Holy, Holy, Holy Lord.
Let us receive Your strength
to counteract our weaknesses.
My faith embraces mystery;
a celestial echo of my Triune God.
My Holy Catholic Church is
my only road to salvation.
Holy, Holy, Holy Lord.
Let me receive Your strength
to counteract my weaknesses.
Earth is formed in a liturgy of Your image;
It sighs with Your perpetual presence.
Your always revising map of redemption
brings glory rightfully to Your Sacred Heart.
We offer glory to the Father,
glory to the Son,
and glory to the Holy Spirit.
I was formed in a liturgy of Your image;
I sigh with Your perpetual presence.
Your always revising map of redemption
brings glory rightfully to Your Sacred Heart.
I offer glory to the Father,
glory to the Son,
and glory to the Holy Spirit.
Holy Mary, ****** Mother,who is Queen over
all of heaven and earth;
Who holds our Rosary of prayers
in Her Sacred hands.
Shed your sacred tears on our behalf,
and with prayer deliver them
to your Son.
We are clay of many different characters
moulding ourselves into the vessels
we are called to be.
Holy Mary, ****** Mother,who is Queen over
all of heaven and earth;
Who holds my Rosary of prayers
in Her Sacred hands.
Shed your sacred tears on my behalf,
and with prayer deliver them
to your Son.
I are clay of many different characters
moulding myself into the vessel
I am called to be.
In the Name of the Father, and of the Son,
and of the Holy Spirit,
Our voices combine into a choral blend of
praise and celebration
Apr 13, 2016
Apr 13, 2016 at 5:52 PM UTC
Allow me to speak love to you.
To speak lovingly of how you are water to a parched world.
If only dried lands and spirits contorted by malnourishment could partake of you.
They would feast like world powers with coffers over flowing
with enough surplus to satisfy greedy hearts and hungry bodies.
I would speak of your loving healing.
How the disorienting effects of lost loves subside with each endearing word from you.
I am coherent and in my rightful place as a recipient of your love
and with your love I share your nurturing spirit with others.
I am a blessing with your love.
Let me speak of you in the elements of nature.
You are the Mother’s Help Mate and you swaddle me in the rays of your sun.
The vacillating heat of submerged springs cause me to rise as your love beckons me.
My thoughts babble like new born brooks when they roll toward your *****
Your love draws me to what I would call home.
I would speak of your loving tenderness
and how it inspires an innocent and caring love for you.
Of birds and breezes on tender blades and flowers releasing their covering as we display no shame.
No ritual or suggestions for keeping fires burning in some oasis of romance.
Touch me and you will see me blush under your expanding warmth.
I am supple in your presence.
I speak love to my realization of you;
your flesh encasing a triune soul.
peace, joy and patience.
An acknowledgement of being
And with my words, now, I honor the love of you.
Jul 17, 2011
Jul 17, 2011 at 3:40 AM UTC
Of Celestial Beings
and omnipotent Kings,
the poets tend to
ramble.
Triune Godhead,
If explained,
Can leave your poor wits
scrambled.
Approach Him, rather,
In a cave
in service as a
stable.
Behold Him there, the guiltless Babe,
In that setting rather odd;.
The smiling baby Jesus,
the human face of God.
Dec 25, 2013
Dec 25, 2013 at 9:49 AM UTC
The gold that's laid by not but quill
malaise is fought to germ
it seems there is a precedent
to wrestle with the worm
so deep within your cauldron meld
the timeless triune brew
a sprig of life, a grain of truth
mixed with a sanguine hue
and sally forth between the dross
as talus piles abound
by loaf of bread and jug of wine
not meat alone is found
Jul 4, 2015
Jul 4, 2015 at 8:46 PM UTC
Siren screaming warning
fading away i'm happy
to be alive but the thorns
hurt sometimes like fire ants
in Florida with Palmetto bugs
just really big cockroaches in
Hawaii they are pets and even bigger
like the native gals be gentle baby
doll one eighty five going up
and up to the stars the dreams
of children touch god come from god
are god triune stabbing this that is
in the **** to cause movement
is conscious something or other
soft green leaves with sharp edges
flying liquid rock globs on the mountain
black black black ocean deep
wish i could go there in my mind
but for real they play for money
and we pay and pay and pay and wonder
who's the boss believe it or not
no one is is to scary for some
to accept and i'm writing expository but
where are the images well i'm on my way
to find out hope i get there i know
i'm going to enjoy the journey
free i i i i i
Jul 31, 2016
Jul 31, 2016 at 10:55 PM UTC
Heaven. Heaven? Where is this famed Heaven?
We’ve searched creations oceanic depths,
And space traversed by satellites even.
Where do we go to escape from death?
Or could it be, that this great mystery,
Is just around the corner of mortal sight-
Saints, who praise in the dance of eternity,
My triune deity, waiting behind the light.
Teaching us the dance of faithful love,
Waiting just past the curtain of music now.
Giving us the light of love, the peaceful dove
To shepherd us on the race we run now.
Then, coming Home, turning the bend – bliss!
To hear Them sing: Come, you were made for this!
Sep 3, 2013
Sep 3, 2013 at 3:22 PM UTC
True enemies are invisible,
Using visible forms to hide;
To obscure what is meant to stay visible,
In the invisible realm of heart and mind.
Invisible enemies felt as arrows,
Piercing the aura of heart and mind:
In attempt to sever invisible truths
From visible forms invisibly designed.
Fight with invisible weapons
To destroy the invisible lies.
Take up the shield against their reproach,
Look beyond the visible disguise.
The divine-wrought sword of eternal reality,
This will be the enemies' demise.
However invisible the Truth may be,
It doesn't have to be visible to see:
The invisible Force that will set you free-
The One True God, Triune Deity.
Jun 5, 2021
Jun 5, 2021 at 12:10 PM UTC
He created man in His own image
He formed man from the dust of the ground
He breathed breath into the man's nostrils
And raised him up from the ground
He gave man the gift of life
He gave man the gift of companionship
And He gave man the greatness of the Garden
The paradise of Eden
In this beautiful garden
There were rivers flowing gracefully
And trees growing up beautifully
The beautiful summer was upon the earth
And in the garden was given to the man, a woman
A woman from his own bones, his own flesh
And they wed
But in this beautiful garden
In this paradise of Eden
Dark shadows lingered
God gave all things for the man
Except for one tree located at the garden’s center
The Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil
And in the garden, more cunning than any other, was a serpent
A fallen servant of The Lord on High
The most beautiful of all created beings
This Fallen Angel who had warred against God
This Fallen Angel was cast down to earth down low
There on the earth he would walk
Going to and fro, and up and down upon it
The serpent, Satan, would challenge God
He questioned the commands of the Triune God
He asked questions that ought not be asked
He approached the woman, the man’s bride
He questioned the words of God
He told her to eat of the tree which she was commanded not
If she did, she would be like God
She would have knowledge of both good and evil
So she ate of the fruit of the tree
And the serpent was not incorrect
They understood good and evil, but distortedly
They were cut off from God
They were ashamed
And they had a lack of reconciliation with God
The summer had ended
The autumn was coming on the horizon
The cold air was soon coming
Seasons changing, times changing
But know, the summer will come again
In due time, what was good, now bad, will be made new again
And all things will be made new
Times will change
And the summer will return
For The Lord will have come
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 8:40 PM UTC
you claim that there never has been a Creator or ever will be,
but tell me why this supposedly nonexistent God can never escape your lips?
your thoughts and dreams all are consumed by Him, sure a denial of Him but yet you find Him never really leaving,
indeed something nonexistent could never occupy anything if it is not yet- in the quietness of our fading time- the mere thought of His Omniscient Presence discomforts you.
oh i pray you may but look up to see how The Triune Fire is in your very midst- indeed, giving you the ability to even breathe- yet you use it to blaspheme.
foolish yet understandable to our nature- know this, it will not be long if you are His- He will not hesitate to bring you Home
oh foolish one- come Home.
Dec 15, 2015
Dec 15, 2015 at 4:25 AM UTC
whether deserved or exceedingly undeserved
loving acts are to be given with full intention to point all towards the Son-
calling His Fathers children Home- a call to depart from the ruinous castle in that folk tale dressed as reality
Triune fire exposes such burdensome roads
rescues us into family and calls us to a higher understanding, overflowing grace
Apr 15, 2015
Apr 15, 2015 at 12:58 AM UTC
-A Psalm Of Johnson
Our role in life is to serve the Ancient of Days,
Only The Triune God is worthy of our praise!
Mar 17, 2021
Mar 17, 2021 at 2:48 PM UTC
my mind has been a tempest waiting to be unraveled lately
take out all the leaves if you have too, full of melancholy
my justification is mere overwhelming fear of staying with this crippled misconception of grace unmoving yet, here i am, a walking contradiction- if anything, yet you call me your sister, your bride
please pull out all the proud and shining lies
make me more like the One once upon that tree that brought me to life
all i have is you, Christ, triune joy.
i breathe because of you.
May 9, 2016
May 9, 2016 at 7:31 PM UTC
"Wish I Could Go There"
Siren screaming warning
fading away i'm happy
to be alive but the thorns
hurt sometimes like fire ants
in Florida with Palmetto bugs
just really big cockroaches in
Hawaii they are pets and even bigger
like the native gals be gentle baby
doll one eighty five going up
and up to the stars the dreams
of children touch god come from god
are god triune stabbing this that is
in the **** to cause movement
is conscious something or other
soft green leaves with sharp edges
flying liquid rock globs on the mountain
black black black ocean deep
wish i could go there in my mind
but for real they play for money
and we pay and pay and pay and wonder
who's the boss believe it or not
no one is is to scary for some
to accept and i'm writing expository but
where are the images well i'm on my way
to find out hope i get there i know
i'm going to enjoy the journey
free i i i i i
Jan 8, 2018
Jan 8, 2018 at 7:10 PM UTC
A song played by so many,
Heard in infinite variations,
Violence and oblations,
Beyond our mortal stations,
The Triune of the universe,
King and Lord of all,
The worthiest source,
Insight into shining truth,
Warmth and life,
Enhances us into enlightenment,
The rebirth of fire stripping back impurities,
Oh the Triune, King of the Universe.
So many pray to be pluralists,
Hoping for pluralist babies,
Praying for purple Daisies,
Looking at the mobius strips,
Where to even start?
What wisdom there is to impart?
Looking through prisms at,
The bluest of contraptions,
Through Goya's mixed abstractions,
Picasso's representation of reality,
Worked our way down the path,
A room that cannot be found,
A path that confuses and confounds,
A sin of pride sung by the bride,
Are these the stations?
The death of our nations,
Is it the deviations?
Calvin speaks of pre-destination,
Disbelief in oblation,
Summaries above his station,
Where is he now, what is now?
Every seed upon a rock,
Every foundation upon the vultures,
Lacking stability to advise the manufacture,
Trapped in a catatonic daze,
Disguising the onward march of fate,
For when time will count the date,
Rue the day when we ruminate about space,
Amplified Polar neuron twitches,
Passing us by with bipolar switches,
Uncoupling and unhitches,
Welted stitches falling apart,
The fool now plays his miserable part,
I know there was a room I couldn't find.
Did it ever manage to demystify?
Is this how the events arrived and came by?
With songs played by so many,
Heard in infinite variations,
Violence and variations,
The Triune of the universe,
King and Lord of all,
That the worthiest source,
Insight into shining truth,
Warmth and life,
Enchants us into enlightenment,
The rebirth of fire stripping back impurities.
For you are my refuge and security.
Nov 28, 2024
Nov 28, 2024 at 8:21 AM UTC