Spencer Carlson Jan 2015

I hate my life is written on the pavement again
Like a chalk outline of his hope that died long ago
All the appointments and disappointments are a battle for his joy
All the loss and resignation have stained his soul
The warmth hugs him on his way to work
And the stars sing to him at night
Yet all he sees is his home empty and dark
And he's waiting for something to change his life

And his confidence goes where his confidence comes from
And his confidence goes where his confidence comes from

You've been trying to be big in the eyes of the world
But this world leaves you to do life all on your own
Just because you've been abandoned doesn't mean you are alone
Unbelief has driven your soul but you still got a home

And you confidence goes where your confidence comes from
And you confidence goes where your confidence comes from
And you happiness goes where your happiness comes from
And you confidence goes where your confidence comes from

You don't have to be right
Wouldn't it be nice to put your guard down
You don't have to be busy
Wouldn't it be nice to slow down
You don't have to be perfect
Wouldn't it be nice to know
You don't have to be anything this world wants you to be
You don't have to do it on your own
You don't have to do it on your own

https://spencercarlson.bandcamp.com/track/abyss-of-unbelief

Seventh track from my album *I'm Pretty Sure This World Has Cancer

Awake, awake my little Boy!
Thou wast thy Mother’s only joy:
Why dost thou weep in thy gentle sleep?
Awake! thy Father does thee keep.

“O, what land is the Land of Dreams?
What are its mountains, and what are its streams?
O Father, I saw my Mother there,
Among the lillies by waters fair.

Among the lambs clothed in white
She walked with her Thomas in sweet delight.
I wept for joy, like a dove I mourn—
O when shall I return again?”

Dear child, I also by pleasant streams
Have wandered all night in the Land of Dreams;
But though calm and warm the waters wide,
I could not get to the other side.

“Father, O Father, what do we here,
In this land of unbelief and fear?
The Land of Dreams is better far
Above the light of the Morning Star.”

CharlesC Aug 2012

cajun family
personalities
dealing with
alchemical transmutation
transactions
changing of values
history for money..

wildly popular show..
biting humor wraps
sly bidding and exchange
greed rises and falls..
initial bid and response
a scaling gap
startled unbelief..

increments then decide
decisions' sharp edge
money or heritage..
convenience argues
bad choices faced
painful needs are voiced
a values paradox..
microcosm of life now...?
snapshots of our mirror...?

This popular show appears on the History channel..what does it say to us...?
For images, see Google images, or polarityinplay.blogspot.com.     :)

I saw the familiar
rose-flush dust
shoot from my
fingertips,

the day
I finally
decided
to snap out of it.

I had forgotten what lived inside me.

I snapped again
at the
worrywart hut
I'd created
for myself
to live in.

And again, once more
for all time
gone
to my mind's

incessant banter
and going-on's
with
the
flirty,
too flirty,
doubting Adonnis.

The fog was heavy,

in its resilience against my
needs
to get it right,

overtaking me in confusion,
making me forget

the reality
that lay beyond it.

Its grip was choking,

sending me reeling
through a
soul-tainting realm

I hated
I knew so well,

grasping

for anything
to hold on to,

anything that
looked
like

Life.

So,

with the moon
tonight,
I weep

for the many suns
sacrificed
to
Unbelief

and
the parts of me
permitted to be
plagued
by

poison
and
malpurpose.

Though,
with the same tears,
I will thank my God
that I can at least
see
what lies
within me

and again, once more
while the moon is still bright

for the gift to feel
remorse.

Earphones in
Volume up

Lights down
Song selected

Eyes closed

A Rush of sweet melodies
Unbelief of delicious cascading harmonies

A series of perfect notes

Wave after wave of joy
Bright emotions light up within my heart

Emotion
Wonder

Love

I Ride this Song!

Next song

Dear Lord! accept a sinful heart,
Which of itself complains,
And mourns, with much and frequent smart,
The evil it contains.

There fiery seeds of anger lurk,
Which often hurt my frame;
And wait but for the tempter's work,
To fan them to a flame.

Legality holds out a bribe
To purchase life from Thee;
And Discontent would fain prescribe
How Thou shalt deal with me.

While Unbelief withstands Thy grace,
And puts the mercy by,
Presumption, with a brow of brass,
Says, "Give me, or I die!"

How eager are my thoughts to roam,
In quest of what they love!
But ah! when duty calls them home,
How heavily they move!

Oh, cleanse me in a Saviour's blood,
Transform me by Thy power,
And make me Thy beloved abode,
And let me roam no more.

ZinaLisha May 2014

On the hunt for love
i nearly died
i became precious prey
to violent predators
with my body
they had their way.

I slipped
through the grips
of fierce savages
but I did not escape
their attacks unscratched
burdens and battle wounds
now cover my back.

Still, I wiped my tears
and nurtured my burns
from the wild fire I grew
hard lessons i learned
back then I had faith
but unbelief happenened
and hate became my fate.

(Exodus, xv.26)

Heal us, Emmanuel! here we are,
Waiting to feel Thy touch:
Deep-wounded souls to Thee repair
And, Saviour, we are such.

Our faith is feeble, we confess,
We faintly trust Thy word;
But wilt Thou pity us the less?
Be that far from Thee, Lord!

Remember him who once applied,
With trembling, for relief;
"Lord, I believe," with tears he cried,
"Oh, help my unbelief!"

She too, who touch'd Thee in the press,
And healing virtue stole,
Was answer'd, "Daughter, go in peace,
Thy faith hath made thee whole."

Conceal'd amid the gathering throng,
She would have shunn'd Thy view;
And if her faith was firm and strong,
Had strong misgivings too.

Like her, with hopes and fears we come,
To touch Thee, if we may;
Oh! send us not despairing home,
Send none unheal'd away!

Frederick May 2013

1What do you believe happens at death?
-we are released from our mortal enclosure and transformed into our very essence:SPIRIT

2Where does the lost soul go?
-it leaves behind its doubt and unbelief and is granted redemption if it accepts it

3Where lies Heaven?
-Heaven is at the verry presence of God.Its a world of undersTanding,and where TRUTH lives

4Is the reality of Hell real?
To be away from Gods presence is the Spirits hell-the flesh abides in agony and tortured realiSms. Forever!

5Are we going to live forever in Eternity?
Yes,for with God there abides no time,no death and no end!

Hope it brings hope to you reading!

(Exodus, xvii.15)

By whom was David taught
To aim the deadly blow,
When he Goliath fought,
And laid the Gittite low?
Nor sword nor spear the stripling took,
But chose a pebble from the brook.

'Twas Israel's God and King
Who sent him to the fight;
Who gave him strength to sling,
And skill to aim aright.
Ye feeble saints, your strength endures,
Because young David's God is yours.

Who order'd Gideon forth,
To storm the invaders' camp.
With arms of little worth,
A pitcher and a lamp?
The trumpets made his coming known
And all the host was overthrown.

Oh! I have seen the day,
When with a single word,
God helping me to say,
"My trust is in the Lord,"
My soul hath quell'd a thousand foes
Fearless of all that could oppose.

But unbelief, self-will,
Self-righteousness, and pride,
How often do they steal
My weapon from my side!
Yet David's Lord, and Gideon's friend,
Will help his servant to the end.

Which's better blind faith or blind unbelief? Where's blind love?

God moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform;
He plants His footsteps in the sea,
And rides upon the storm.

Deep in unfathomable mines
Of never-failing skill
He treasures up His bright designs,
And works His sovereign will.

Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take,
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy, and shall break
In blessings on your head.

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust Him for His grace;
Behind a frowning providence
He hides a smiling face.

His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding every hour;
The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flower.

Blind unbelief is sure to err,
And scan his work in vain;
God is His own interpreter,
And He will make it plain.

twelve caesuras Nov 2013

i was created in a room

with white walls,

white ground, white

sky. i was

conceived from a

thought stuck in a

corner, cornered by

orange flashes of distrust and

fiery blue sparks of unbelief.

i was born to conform, to

bend and blend and fold into

the turns and smudges and creases

already there. i was spawned to

live, among others who had 

blank faces and watery, tired eyes

and weary, withering souls as if

i, too, felt my spirit being ripped

to unidentifiable shreds by the

horror that is today. i was given
these lungs to breathe out lies, these 

bones to keep them moving.

my skin to deceive, my blood to

fabricate. this soulless body to live, as if
it 

were a quiet star, hidden deep in

a crevice in the darkness, only able to

hear the other stars singing with
clouded

eyes and a jaded perspective.

but, doctor, sometimes i wonder:

who is it that is most convinced?

you, for believing that i can smile
sincerely,

or me, for smiling?

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