"yhwh" poems
Father could reprogram all six billion of us
if He felt the need, anytime
In fact that's exactly what He did
at Babel when our dodgy one-accord
threatened to bring the end nearer
than the six millenniums of earthtime
He'd allocated for us to seek His truth
He even re-wired Balak for a minute
to hear his donkey speak
and think of the Assyrians that fled
when He caused four lepers to sound
like a mighty mercenary army
coming to rescue Jerusalem
YHWH is omnipotent, like it not
The reason He's not 'interfering' right now
is simply because His plan is dead on time
He intends to blow the chaff from His wheat
The true wheat, His remnant that stays faithful
(through Revelations and the mark)
will form a new constitution when Yeshua returns
for a thousand years of peace on earth
You may think "Oh I'll wait and see
if it's true, like, if the two witnesses
really die and then rise again in three days"
Problem with that approach is simple
You could be brainwashed before then
The neurophone is widely used today
Think of 911, why Bush isn't impeached
and read surveillanceissues.com
Those of us who really care
will continue to bug you and **** your spirit
Hopefully you'll make the right choice
and refuse the mark of the beast
Consider these things while there's time
'After me the storm' won't cut it
There are less than three short years to go
* Gen 6:3 And Jehovah said, My spirit shall not always strive with man, in his erring; he is flesh. Yet his days shall be a hundred and twenty years.
The 120 years referred to here in fact represent 120 jubilees, or 6000 years (2000 from Adam to the flood, 2000 from the flood to Yeshua and 2000 from Yeshua till 2017)
Jun 3, 2010
Jun 3, 2010 at 2:37 AM UTC
A World in which free Thought is demonized
is a World seized by Demons
A World in which free Worship is demonized
is a World bereft of Sanctity
A World in which division of the One is glorified
is a World hopelessly mislead
A World which glorifies demonetization
is a World within the dominion of Hell
A World with such abidance towards Evil
may as well, itself, be Evil
but, ultimately, what is Evil
but knowing misuse of potential?
Energy is all that is.
Matter is but crystalline Energy
(and people say Science isn't mystical)
God, Tao, Zen, Allah, YHWH,
Brahman, Zeus, Jupiter, Ammon,
Mars, Ares, Týr, Horus, Kali, Mixcoatl,
Aphrodite, Athena, Venus, Minerva,
Isis, Ceres, Demeter, Freyr;
whatever you want to call
the ineffable Energies
is just fine by me,
but I maintain
the only Evil
is the intent
to misuse
that Cosmic Energy,
whence all was given rise,
and thereto all shall return,
for, truly, it never left
that Divine state;
that supple,
ephemeral,
dreamlike
Being-ness.
Hello.
Welcome back to Now:
Carpe diem.
Feb 5, 2014
Feb 5, 2014 at 7:12 PM UTC
God-King of the Heavens;
usurper of the throne of Saturn-
his Father,
the Titan-God of Time and Agriculture.
Saturn:
the personification of Time.
Also known as Chronos; Odin.
But, back to Jove-
that is to say, Jupiter:
archetype for Masculinity.
To some, the true Patriarch.
He's said to have once called himself YHWH,
but some know him as Yahweh, Jehovah, or Allah.
Others swear he goes by Zeus or Ammon,
and yet others, by Thor.
Or, perhaps
that name brings to mind
the largest planet in our Solar System.
The fifth from the Sun,
and largest by mass and volume:
Jupiter alone has 2.5 times the mass
of all the other planets combined.
It has a diameter of roughly 11 times that of Earth,
or about a 1/10th of that of the Sun.
I venture to say
that the Scientific and Mythological namesakes
both tend to have a similar temperament
and gravity
for they who are caught
within his sphere of influence.
Jan 4, 2015
Jan 4, 2015 at 3:12 PM UTC
My natural instinct in
this flesh wrapped soul,
is to anestasize the
pain and ugliness of life.
Blackout the brutality and
cruelty in the world.
Close my eyes with *****
drugs, *** anything to
stop the oozing pain.
And then it dawned on me,
like the dew soaked morning,
opposite action is required.
Walk through the
pain with eyes wide open.
Let love and YHWH hold my
hand.
Sober, head held high.
Call me sentimental and foolish,
but I'm a real mother ******
I'm going to embrace the beauty.
It is all around me.
It's painted in the
sunset of the robin's breast.
It's in the
sublime melody of
the starry night.
It's written in the
faces of all my brothers and
sisters in their pain and
struggles.
Love is the answer to
every question;
I have to die to grow;
like a seed, a cell,
a fractured heart.
Bring it On Life!
If you knock me down,
I'm getting back up.
I'm resilient, and
no longer afraid.
Yes, this world can be
brutal, and we often
lose the ones we love,
but I'm choosing
today, at this moment, to
take this wild ride called
life, and live it, and
love every second I have
left.
Then, I can leave victorious.
What the ****
Everybody wants to win.
Apr 3, 2021
Apr 3, 2021 at 4:29 AM UTC
Je tremble des lèvres et des cils
Tout en moi se raidit, je bande
Je suis possédé
C'est Ma Phénicienne qui est à la manoeuvre
C'est ma diablesse qui se manifeste
C'est Jézabel, muse fatale, qui est à l'oeuvre
C'est l'esprit de Jézabel qui m'infeste.
Telle Anat, la Cananéenne, la Sanguine,
Ma prêtresse de Baal, ma Sidonienne
Se farde les paupières d'antimoine
Et se coiffe langoureusement postée à la fenêtre.
Ses yeux de gazelle me dictent les mots
D'une rare luxure
Que je dépèce comme une meute de chiennes lubriques
Ses lèvres entrouvertes dégoulinent
De mots adultères
Et la débauche s'empare de mon trône.
Et le désir me piétine de ses chevaux emballés.
Mais **** de m'apeurer à l 'approche du combat qui s'annonce
Je m'agenouille et je vénère ma guerrière,
Ma prophétesse, mon YHWH
Ma souveraine et seule voix sur terre
Vierge de toute armure ou parure,
Jézabel, mère d'Athalie,
Jézabel dont je suis l 'homme de paille,
Le prostitué rituel,
Le moine poète
Qu'elle a défenestré !
Aug 21, 2019
Aug 21, 2019 at 2:07 AM UTC
My heart's delight
Razor groomed, baby's bottom
To glide my fingers across
Gripping, fascinated
You breathe in a sweet fog
You exhale a trembling sigh
An indescribable exclamation
An indiscernible exhortation
A dove's song of desire
Caution for the wind
Need
Fear
Mine to control
No puppet, yet I pull strings
No fortress, yet I crash the gates
Effortlessly
As you throw open the doors
Willingly
I halt
So as to worship
Before I cross this line
Of fire and water
That no longer wields power
To lock me out
Left to wander, to live
For this moment
Or to let me slip
Out of consciousness
Into the womb
Soft baby's bottom
Sharp razor groomed
The Cherubim and Seraphim lie dead
Bleeding on the floor
Slashed and drained of the power
Conferred upon them by YHWH
Drained and stained
Dry and stolen
Given to a flower
A dowry so inadequate
I feel enlightened
But
Punished as I leave
For such an epiphany will not come again
Whereas I feared the intensity that brought me to
This place within you
So I dread the inevitable
Being born again
Better to remain
Surrounded by infinity
A gas planet that bears your name
Where the air I breathe
Smells of cotton candy
Hot coffee
Marijuana smoke
And your darkness bright
A shroud of purple light
Laser beamed into the back of my head
With the sole purpose of making me forget
All that came before
So that I might be clean and prepared
To get ***** again
I'm given 9 months
Sep 14, 2010
Sep 14, 2010 at 7:17 AM UTC
Call me a heretic
I question the Bible
I question faith
my own.
I believe because it says that it's the right thing to do
I'll be saved?
But define religion.
Define what is infinite but is secrete
God, YHWH, Allah, The Creator
of what?
We are able to gain information of such large rocks
within our galaxy
Yet we see them...
from Earth
As tiny specks through a large magnifying glass
That makes it seem colossal or the actual size
but still remains at distant and a permanent mystery
Never in person. Inaccurate as well
I guess everything is just a hypothesis
It's become a habit that if you get more people to agree with you
You assume valediction
Well if that's what it has come to nowadays...
Amen.
Mar 20, 2013
Mar 20, 2013 at 12:33 AM UTC
A new search is ongoing,
with Israeli chemists on a trek;
they seek find the color of God,
which was formerly called tekhelet.
Is its significance a harbinger
of future Messianic times?
Can the rabbis or scientists
decipher this dividing line?
It’s an enigmatic shade of blue
that represents God’s infinity
caught between the color spectrum
of visible light and invisibility.
Some experts believe the source,
(though the origin is unknown),
may be the secretive creatures
of antiquity called… the hillazon.
Based on some vague descriptions,
its body resembles the ocean;
can Levitical trade secrets be exposed
with the clarity of resolution?
This divine azure is a key color,
of the high priest’s holy vestments;
for this serves as a reminder to keep
and honor God’s law and commandments.
Allow the penetrating light of God
to serve as a transforming catalyst;
though this mystery of life is unfinished,
know that faith is not an accident.
Open my eyes Lord, that I may see
the royal blue of Your sea
and observe Your sea of the sky,
that depicts the colored backdrop
of the holy throne belonging to Adonai.
.
.
.
Author Notes:
Loosely based on:
Num 15:38-39 and an episode of the Naked Archaeologist;
as part of the dye making process, direct sunlight is
required and serves as a catalyst to modify the color
pigment at the atomic level.
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2013, All rights reserved.
Dec 5, 2013
Dec 5, 2013 at 11:02 AM UTC
The cracking and clatter of ice from the shingles
Is my overture—
The woken cardinals,
My chorus—
Both hailing proud to me, their Caesar
And his triumph of Spring.
Snow sublimes and bleeds on the pavement
Like YHWH’s flood—
The earth will clean itself, having given birth,
It licks away the treated salts
That offend my foot and step—
Quelling there, the wrath on Gomorrah
Giving wife back unto Lot,
Or so it can be said.
Unjustifiably, I feel like a badass
With newfound swagger and perspiration
Down my back—
I shed my second skin in the virile breeze.
So, up the noise and whet your words
It’s time the poet took herself back
And without fear makes due on nothing but life
To die early and die right—
We’ll stand naked on a precipice
And scream out the world’s song
While we imagine ourselves there.
Mar 10, 2015
Mar 10, 2015 at 11:07 AM UTC
and as the western slavs took to roman calibration and the eastern slavs took to reinterpreting greek with cyrillic, both the eastern and the western slavs lost sight of their pagan "ordeal" by forgetting their once fabled fathers in the stately category of gods, so while the eastern slavs continued to cling so desperately to woman kneeling in shawls by the altar of "innocent" sacrifice, the western slavs experienced a pagan revival on calton hill - so within all this being done, roman lettering had to undue the theological plagiarism of turning zeus into jupiter and jesus into jehovah on that mighty trident of poseidon. (oh... is it really that desperate and annoying and childish to use these nouns? i'd like to see you replace zeus et al. with: hydroxypropyl starch phosphate... or sodium lauroamphoacetate, although i admit, there's one rational and scientific concession to this, zeus et al. are all imaginary nouns, a bit like √-1ª.)
on the shore of loch lomond
i was seduced by zeus to revive
polytheism in earnest with a stern gazing eye,
for zeus heard of the satisfaction of yahweh(ª although
this noun isn't... because why would rabbis
pain over yhwh with ha ha he he hi hi hu hu ** **
disambiguations, while the greeks
didn't ze ze za za is is us us es es os os zi zi zu zu
but instead allowed aristotelian musings?)
at the establishment of the state of israel,
(ah **** had the pictures once...
but words are better than pictures
since pictures are a blockage of memory’s revival
while words penetrate -
although the damnable thing is,
i don’t remember what i said)
then too i saw hades seal the revival having turned
himself into cerberus in the forest of my resentments
unnamed just above bedford’s forest.
Oct 15, 2015
Oct 15, 2015 at 11:46 AM UTC
*whatever we speak, it's hardly going to
be spoken of.*
which means two kettles...
mind you: target practise
or as i mind
the 2.4
of said: superman
in Iowa...
do i care to mind?
well, **** me!
they verse in acronym
i.n.d.i.a. & c.h.i.n.a.
akin to a billion...
i'm tongue tied and heaving,
das bōt...
this doesn't help the aesthetic...
with prolonging dies
the excess o...
kaiser schweizer min took!
whatever that means,
they say funny accents in ****
to **** a thought of a zeppelin...
yhwh: or the hollowing-out,
awaiting the god to lift us out...
Pythagorean umlaut
into a macron joinery...
depending on your aesthetic...
Kreisler schisser...
twins anti avid,
interchange s and z...
Charlotte
and sharpening, shearing and cheering,
and so many excuses...
the chard and the sh and the charcoal
and the shattering of, of the chatter:
cheap and sharp
or the acute variations of śarp & ćeap...
or what the first H represents:
an upper punctuation marking,
above the letter,
Y or gamma γ vs. Υ (upsilon)
in latter phrasing comma...
or what's pinpointed with Y
and what's later replicated in trigonometric W
of sine and cosine, as is Y the tan divergence...
excesses bound to later and latter...
how to differentiate? the lay'ter
from the latté of not mopping up the surd
h and the vocalised h that's asphyxiating
within catching breath asthmatic?
people forgot punctuation
in the same way they forgot diacritical markings
but at least they got a pretty picture
and dyslexia, and iconoclasm, and
modern illiteracy;
as said modern conspiracy theory:
far **** away from 1990s cartoon network...
everything you just said: doesn't
prop a need for me to buy things;
which is why, i guess, you need
a drugs trade that's the alternative
of consumerism.
Nov 23, 2016
Nov 23, 2016 at 10:36 PM UTC
Do stars gather every night
For this dear mortal to absorb their delight?
Does their light patiently travel all those miles
Only for these eyes to absorb them with smiles?
Gravity of Force, gravity of Love
I wonder how much stardust twinkles in my ****** glove.
Grab a plate
Grab a drink
Fly if need be
Allow your thoughts to levitate among stars
Go outside and accompany them
Despite their countless numbers
Always being present
As if waiting for me to accompany them
As if without me they're incomplete
Happily flickering when they see me
Wanting me to be part of their story
Twinkling novas and dancing nebulas
Stars probably say, "there's Earth again, a merry go round, humans hide among rooftops and ground"
Numerous or singular, planetary or nebular
Human dust or stardust, neither of this matters
Humans in days, stars in miles
We all stories in the end
Eyes are windows of the soul,
Stars are windows of the universe abode
God's winking morse code
"Hi there, I see you"
Stars or souls, we're all stories in the end
Made in images of our Creator
So much so, even neuron clusters in human brains
Have similiar visual patterns of galactic clusters in heavenly terrain.
Sapiens city lights, interstellar starlights
So close, yet also, so far away
Sometimes I feel YHWH's eyes on me
The many, many thousands of starry eyes
As if God's out there and I'm just stardust
But YHWH is everywhere
Just like starry eyes
Gravity of Force, gravity of Love
I'm in God's story 'till the end.
Feb 9, 2017
Feb 9, 2017 at 4:14 PM UTC
I want to be where you are,
For you have a peculiar way of feeling so distant from me.
I am longing for another moment of triumphant belonging.
One that comes like a spurt of overflowing rapture
Within my weary heart.
I am released
From being drowned in deep waters
And suddenly, musical sounds break the muted,
Submerged silence
That for so long flooded my ears.
I see your face somewhere
In the glimmering iridescent halo of the sun.
My iniquities trickle from my eyelashes
And stream my cheeks.
They pool at my collarbones and rush down my arms
Once my chest heaves at the chance to breathe in
More of you.
Then off the tips of my fingers they fall; forgettable, insignificant.
Beached on the shores of my loneliness,
You meet me.
Seeing my shackles, a slave to sin, I am exposed
In my unworthiness and tarnished in self-deceit.
But you loosen my chains, binding only
My broken heart.
The iron turns to sand and I can feel it
Slipping and singing laments into the wind.
Right there is where the temple of self-righteousness
Crumbles.
In a heap of ruins lay my complacency and conceit.
You’ve been waiting to clothe me in the white
Of your salvation, and you wrap me
In a violet righteousness woven distinctly for me.
In the place of my shame, you fill that pit in my stomach
With a double portion of everlasting joy.
Beneath our feet
The earth brings forth sprouts of brilliant green.
Unimaginable colors spring up joyfully
Into a fruitful garden of immense splendor.
Individual flowers bloom for each prayer
Sown by your angels over my soul.
The moment is like a rare jewel or precious stone.
I want to collect it and hold it delicately in my hands.
I want to wear it on my fingers and wrists
For the chance to adorn others
With the sparkling gold and silver of your abundant grace.
Where there are jubilant fields lined with thick forestry,
I see emerald gems lodged half-revealed in the rock.
I see how the veins in my arms match the patterns
Of rivers carving through the land.
I notice the rhythm of my breathing
And the peaceful rise and fall of a gentle shoreline.
If I could see that the blue in the sky,
Green in the fields,
Gold in the sun,
And brown of the rich earth
Rests in the flecks of my eyes,
Perhaps I would realize that you have made me
To always be where you are.
h.v.
Mar 16, 2017
Mar 16, 2017 at 12:53 PM UTC
the psalmist cries
by the wonders of your creation
but now we worship you
with half adoration
half obedience
and even half concentration
the Israelites bow down before you
but others take you for granted
the capacity of your power cannot be fathom
neither by a myth nor by a mortal man
you are the Greatest
the kings among all kings
the highest among all kind of Gods
the alpha and omega
beginning and the end
the Just among the guilty
the persecutor within the nation
the yin and the yang
the universe God and the highest father
Yhwh, the purest name above all.
Jun 19, 2016
Jun 19, 2016 at 3:13 AM UTC
Lightning tongue
Brother tree
Strike the dirt
Breaking free
Roots emerge
Like a snake
Snap like cords
Crack the lake
Speak sword-tongue
Cut me loose
Catch me with
Holy noose
Let me not
Plead, "Away"
YHWH God
Lord, please stay
Earthy tongue
Gentle words
Friendship won
Nesting birds
Turn about
Long ago
What's that sound?
I don't know
Dove wing tongue
Remind me
Of all that
Love spoke He
Calm me down
Know my groan
Report back
Glowing stone
Let me speak
Orphan tongue
Granting me
Only lungs
Solely You
May 1, 2025
May 1, 2025 at 8:19 PM UTC
Oh how precious are your thoughts of me (they are more than all the grains of sand)
And how you sing for me (i can hear it in my heart)
How you dance, wen you hear my name (will you dance with me one day?)
Teach me all of your ways, all of your thoughts (so they can be mine from the heart)
I will hold on to everything that tells me how beautiful you are
Keep me close to your heart, for i will keep you close to mine
Jun 23, 2012
Jun 23, 2012 at 7:49 AM UTC
Philosophy will tell you that belief doesn’t equal truth.
That’s why belief in a religion doesn’t make its precepts true.
Knowing that, I guess I should have known better,
But I held to the time we agreed that my belief and faith made my religion real.
“Her god is real because she believes.”
“My god loves me because I love him.”
We smiled, and for a split second we both saw God,
But you saw YHWH, and I saw you.
Maybe I should have told you that.
Maybe I should have told me that.
Instead, I spoke to you in reverence, like a prayer,
And took your words as gospel.
Every time I touched you was a burnt offering in your name.
My belief and love was pure and true, but it didn’t change anything.
It didn’t make your love real.
I know that now; I’ve seen the proof.
I think I knew it all along.
So, I’ll return to my religion,
The god you saw will comfort me and love me.
He’ll never leave my side, so long as I believe it’s true.
I’ve not found anyone to disprove him yet.
Still, words on a page don’t compare to warm arms
Anymore than cheerful texts replace a smile.
I’ll make do.
Sometimes, though, a glimmer of hope slips through.
Sometimes, I wish my god was you.
Feb 24, 2016
Feb 24, 2016 at 2:31 PM UTC
*why should there be a medical diagnosis of pronoun use, when the pronoun they is treated as show-off problematic and paranoiac naturally, to ease the conversation?*
the day when the tetra gram ah tonne
met the compass of the crux
and turned the sacred YHWH
into N.E.W.S. -
to make it easier, the crucifix,
an abstracted square - collapsed -
they are indeed shoving ***** at as,
with prayers at the Hagia Sophia,
they're shovelling ***** at us,
because they're realising that the power
they claim to have is ineffective,
hence their need for religious topics
to organise legions, to utilise religion
is to finalise political ineffectiveness;
political apathy breeds
religiosity and attachment to symbolism
rather than geometry.
Jun 8, 2016
Jun 8, 2016 at 8:44 PM UTC
High he rode, high above,
no one to hate
in the clouds, no one to love,
lost in thin, ensnaring fate,
he fitted heaven, hand in glove.
From his perch,
at YHWH's ponderous side,
he would lurch
like the morning tide,
reaching out to clutch.
sullen of face,
mesmerised by YHWH's poignant glare
he failed to trace
in the ancient one, infinite fear,
The old one with infinite grace.
They played chess under Sirius
drank wine near the sun
becoming delirious
when YHWH called him his son.
He yelled back: 'You can't be seious!'
But now, in his failure,
the two rarely speak,
for god he's now a blur
a loser, hopeless and weak,
a blunderer and cur.
'Dad', he says quietly,
'there's plenty of planets around
i can visit each nightly
with one hop, and one bound.'
God acknowledged him but slightly.
God nods in the sunshine,
not listening it seems,
now senile, snorting a line
the ancient one dreams.
It will, he thinks vaguely, all be fine!
Feb 16, 2018
Feb 16, 2018 at 6:24 AM UTC
“The human races from which great nations
with a broad & progressive culture emerged
that has influenced all of ancient & modern
history to this day, and of which many very
talented nations & still vibrant & progressing —
[these great races number only two]:
_the Semites_ & the Indo-Europeans _or Aryans_.”
- Joseph Klausner
Klausner had earlier used the term “savage”
in his book “Ha’adam Hakadmon”
(“Prehistoric Man”), on the foundations of anthropology,
published in Warsaw in 1900 by Tushiya Press.
There Klausner referred to Sigismond Zaborovsky’s work
“The Prehistoric Man,” published in French in 1878;
a pair of books on the prehistoric age
written by Moriz Hoernes & published
in German in 1892 and 1897, as well
as on works by race researchers
like Karl Penka, author of “The Aryan Origin” (1886)
& Ludwig Wilser, author of “The Origin of the Germans” (1885)
& “The Prehistoric Origins of the Aryans” (1899).
Decades before the Nazis, Penka
& Wilser laid the groundwork
for the racial doctrines glorifying
the purity and supremacy of the Aryan race;
Klausner’s book was a collection of excerpts
from these works, translated into Hebrew;
a Jewish diaspora
who coalesced during the Holy Roman
Empire around the end of the first millennium;
Ashkenazi Jewish intelligence, often referred
to as the "Jewish Genius" is a subject that
explores why Ashkenazi Jews tend to have
[Marx, Freud, Einstein & Hollywood formulating a Judeo-centered worldview
posing as atheism: Neitzche's
pronouning the Death of YHWH, buried
beside his son; both graves empty;
the Jews rejecting Christ: a higher intelligence
than all other ethnic [despite the prevalent
myth, evidence indicates actual
Ashkanazi are more or less borderline ********
the "Ashkanazi Genius" surviving
solely in the poetry of Bob Dylan;
groups and excel disproportionately in many
[Jung also rejected this covert Zionism]
fields, and has been an occasional subject
of scientific controversy;
The average IQ score of Ashkenazi
Jews has been calculated to be from
a range of 110–115, significantly higher
than any other ethnic group in the world;
Today's Ashkenazi Jews suffer from
a number of congenital diseases and
mutations at higher rates than most
other ethnic groups
Ashkenazi Jews, also known as
Ashkenazic Jews or simply Ashkenazim
(Hebrew: אַשְׁכְּנַזִּים, Ashkenazi Hebrew
pronunciation: [ˌaʃkəˈnazim], singular:
[ˌaʃkəˈnazi], Modern Hebrew: [aʃkenaˈzim,
aʃkenaˈzi]; also יְהוּדֵי אַשְׁכְּנַז Y'hudey Ashkenaz):
Ashkenazi students in West Bank school
protest against end of Sephardi-Ashkenazi
segregation; Ministry threatens to prosecute parents.
Jul 9, 2018
Jul 9, 2018 at 11:32 AM UTC
If I ever cared at all about anything, the sweet love of our King and Creator is my cause to sing! Rather than regurgitate the same old thing, and moving my mouth in meaningless shapes. I’d rather sing to YHWH the praises He so deserves, if such a song could I even sing, to Him no justice I’m sure I could bring. Though He loves me anyway, and while I was still dead in sin! I mean, on that old rugged cross He did what no other ever could. He who knew no sin, fully God, fully man, stepped down from His throne and wore a body of flesh, and bore the sin of the world, this God/man did only good. As only He could. Yet He already foresaw His painful death, so that’s why with His very last breath, He said “It is finished!” Jesus Christ paid the ultimate price. In the courtroom of life He, Jesus Christ, paid our deathly fines so we may be reconciled to The Father through the blood of Jesus. Legal and just is His love for us. All one needs to do, is accept his gift, repent sincerely, and ask Him to reside in your heart, trusting him like the solid Rock He is. Hallelujah Yahweh!!
Sep 26, 2023
Sep 26, 2023 at 9:51 PM UTC
stop up ahead so we can catch our breath –
you can see it, billowing up
into an upturned sieve;
bright, cold dripping in, separating
from heavy purple mass.
how many damp backs have we endured?
aching to catch a glimpse of that beyond,
sprawled at the foot of the infinite,
gulping down lungful after lungful of sharp forever-ness.
is it just me or do they get further away?
you remember reaching right up
and tracing the inside of the rim
with your hands?
pin-pricks dropped so quietly
onto your face,
lodging under your pores.
i used to think i could hear them,
what sound did they make,
when you could hear them?
have you ever listened to glass on water,
or ice cubes in the dark,
or the space between old friends (no longer speaking),
or a billion lighthouse keepers closing their eyes,
or concrete pipes in the summer,
or God’s name (YHWH),
or that night the dunes caved in and i saw milk in heaven,
or the gap in the second hand,
or Sigur Rós’s fourth studio album (the one where God speaks)?
that’s what they sounded like,
but i don’t believe you can hear them anymore.
Jan 2, 2021
Jan 2, 2021 at 10:54 PM UTC
christianity is, in part,
ontologically based, to behave like
hinduism...
in that its root is a polytheism,
focusing on
the opposite of a theology,
or its particularness...
it's poly-schismatic.
catholicism can lie all it wants away,
but the fact is simple:
christianity was based upon a focus
of an impeding schism...
so i can't see a way out of
shouting: shotgun!
as you rarely do, take the seat
in a non-black-cabbie next to the driver...
since there isn't one...
add to it an innumerable
cohort of saints... and you're done...
at least islam is "schizophrenic",
in that the schism took to representing
two factions of belief systems...
me? if i were muslim?
shi'a(h) islam... all the way...
christianity just has a messiah complex
imbedded in it... and therefore it has
so many splinters (schisms) waiting for it,
to be reduced to.
orthodox, catholic, protestant,
and then all the -isms...
luthernism, calvinism, baptism -ism- -ists...
em, second day adventists?
it's like darwinism in a theological sense:
look! look at all the theo-diversity!
only now, would you associate
the (g)nostic movement in islam (sufism)
with shi'a(h) islam...
but come on! how can you make poetry
a capitalist "thing"?
you can't compete when writing poetry...
you can't compete on an universal basis for
a uniform stance of "incompetent" expression...
that **** ain't happening...
i feel with my intensity, and with my intensity alone...
you can't compete with what you feel,
and then scribble down...
the **** is this "comprehension" / realisation?
poetry is not some potato-sack / egg on a spoon race!
in terms of language...
english has already won the culture war...
but chinese, or hindi, as written in sanskrit?
well... that's won the existential war...
a billion here... and a billion over there...
mind you, i'll repeat myself...
the polytheistic aspect of christianity is that
christianity has a tendency to agitate schisms;
it's really a religion of the obelus (÷),
or as some might suggest: the obelisk of washington d.c.
thank **** it wasn't a giant **** of
masonry, with only one / two rooms in it.
the ****** religion just implodes,
and schizophrenics itself into a poly-diadem
that then tries to resolve some primitive geometric
form (square, triangle, a straight line, a dot)
of "respectability";
but reducing the tetragrammaton (yhwh) into a
dangling piece of metal, i.e. a † (crux)?
that! that's truly barbaric!
May 20, 2017
May 20, 2017 at 10:46 AM UTC