Silence

We talk to much in vanities vocabulary,

rattle sabers to point out the lines

of where greed and angry write their tales.

 

But it never brings the silence of lust,

nor the ceasing of hate’s parades,

every injustice march for obsession’s sake.

Our speeches of goodwill and statesmanlike ideals

never feed the starving victims of sin’s tyranny

nor stop evil cravings from their ravenous plots.

 

Can ego be set aside for love?

Would we be willing to let the Lord

be the guardian of our conscience

and the voice we listen to for loyalty?

 

Perhaps if truth was the clarion call

upon the desires of all our hearts

then we could honestly ask

has this  cruel chess match of power

really brought anything, but grief?

 

In a moment of confession

admit our war toys never did work

for the games play only had losers.

 

When we can cease to wave our flags

over graves, martyrs and innocence dead,

accept the lead and spilled blood

will never lead to paradise,

maybe we can then actually raise

a white banner for serenity

to become more fanatical about healing

than conquering.

I Got A Secret

 

Now first rule of wealth

is never ever tell a soul,

stash it away in some safe place,

then take it out

when nobody is looking.

 

Okay, quietly I would payoff bills,

quit my job, but not tell my family,

then be free to get a little nice hideaway place

where I would go

at times I was supposed to be a work.

 

Course that new Porsche I drove

would only belong to somebody else,

I was just baby sitting it for them.

at least that is I would tell those at home.

 

Oh I would figure someway to give them

all those little things they needed,’

while I had to go on all those “business” trips.

 

Then I would dip myself in a secret ecstasy

of private pleasure to feast for my lurid need,

away from eyes of those who I don’t want to know

about my oh so desperate hunger

for the company of a young, beautiful female,

just some warm and affection creature

who can fulfill my every dream.

 

I would take her to my guarded oasis

for hours of intense, arousing satisfaction

so far away from the dull routine I know,

able to savor her company

when I discover that glorious aliveness

as I an my new Labrador Retriever find happiness.

 

Don’t Even Think About!

 

God was very big in our house

and my mother was His personal representative

to make sure I did things right,

now all food were okay

as long as you prayed over them before eating,

so Pop Tarts with ice cream for breakfast

work fine with the right kind of spiritual petition.

 

Seeing to close to the television

when watching war movies or westerns

might risk the violence radiation would rot your brain,

and going to the theater on Sunday

was okay as long as you knew

angels sat next to you

who wouldn’t hesitate to strike you with thunderbolts

should you root for the bad guy

because they loved you so.

 

We just had so much fun all the time

as long as we remembered

always be thankful even when you are not

since God hates a sore loser,

well she said it was in the scriptures somewhere

haven’t found it yet.

The Tangles Of Emerald

Her heart was immersed

in a warm, enticing jade hued sea,

so bathed in a rich,

elegance of emerald thoughts,

the shimmering jewels from her passions

set as stars before her eyes

as they held her mind so spellbound

over how her fingers could grasp

all their light within her hand

and let her future swim

upon a tide of expectations,

where they shine in green glows

of spring grass in fertile promise

when her skills thrived

and at last she would rise like a blade,

tall and stately in her accomplishments.

 

But before her sky of hope

how the tangles of envy spread,

they reached out from spiteful tongues,

those slithering olive stained lies,

who tried to wrap around her life

so they could strangle her every ambition.

 

Before those vines in deceits

she never stopped growing

for whispers that snake through your world

never can kill your dreams

unless you let them.

Idols

The little gods I sat by my bed

to ward off evil and keep me safe,

only they never answered my prayers

and the demons came anyway,

just to give me new idols

so I could hold them harder

when the first ones got so worn

by the clutches of midnight.

 

A fire I chanted with that grasp

some flame to torch my terror

then burn away the pain,

only every morning I didn’t feel

any new life or freedom

from that things that strangled

after darkness.

 

Those cold, metal objects

felt so dead in my hands,

lost the joy of their mystical spell,

tossed them aside out of boredom,

before pawning them for some magic beans.

Oh they were a fantasy

how I knew they would never work,

yet planting them gave me a chance

for celebrating with friends,

found salvation in the socialization

missed while spending all my time

alone with those silly deities. 

Burning Bushes

Traces of light from the mind

found in the hints of day,

some image seen in visionary outline,

a wisp of inspiration blown

over the spirit.

 

Born in the illumination

is the offspring of creativity

expressed a burgeoning blossom

in breathtaking expression,

so unique and amazing,

it haunts from the feel

this new notion speaking such eloquence

as a guide to a new reality.

 

Virgin thoughts comb the head,

how they are a siren before the heart,

because in the ordinary

was found truth so rare and amazing

it shines a mesmerizing touch

over the heart beat,

suddenly becoming alive,

the sound of the impossible,

which now speaks a change

with such amazing energy

deep into the lines of tomorrow..

Heaven's Flare

In that heart pounding

moment of rumble and roar,

when the sky’s quiet is shred

by streaks of white fury

and night’s veil is torn

from that crooked illumined finger,

one can’t help wondering if that spark

might have came from God’s finger.

 

It is that strike in such ominous glow

that reminds perhaps there is more to what is above

than the endless stretch of turquoise silence.

 

For within the soul there is felt heaven’s flare

set afire by an eternal match,

to ignite out thoughts with that awareness

how small we are even in our greatness.

 

So easily life can change

what we think is calm

can suddenly become chaos

while nature obeys the call

from an unseen hand.

 

Afterwards that one flash

is scored so vividly in our thoughts

as an etching we either see

made by an immortal artist

or merely Mother Earth’s random act.

 

The Songs Of Lights

Particles the eyes can never see

dance to the music of physical laws,

they move and interact

with cause and effect,

a microcosm of spiritual metaphor

of how God put into place,

His sovereign presence

along with the energy of choice.

 

It broadens in the illumined psalm

where we are apart of the cycle

who obey the forces of light in our soul

either in harmony or chaos,

all part of the divine order

He created with His power.

 

To set particles in motion

so they interact on their own,

then too it its meaning

was His word crafted

how it conveys the nature of life.

 

Matter composed of many parts

as we are countless portions within,

truly more than flesh and bone.

 

That our behavior carries consequences,

which impact the world and others

and how He gave us directions in verse

 

about love and faith

as a law of behavior

always having a quantum message

about the power of our actions.

 

The Little Adventures

 

It isn’t the holidays or the usual things

that truly bring the smiles

and honestly warm my heart,

what gives me a glow

is from those little adventures,

every unexpected detour

into a place that brings happiness.

 

You never know

when that grocery store aisle

will yield some surprise,

the mail box holds

some truly amazing correspondence.

 

Each day has its own magic,

only a question of where it appears.

 

Nothing gives me greater pleasure

than the times I can see

that pure spellbound look

in my grandson’s eyes.

 

To see in that young innocence

a believe in angels and miracles,

just gives a special seasoning

unto life’s stew,

so what is otherwise bland

truly tastes so great.

The Staircase

I have look upwards through the sky

to see the terraces of my dreams,

the places fill with my lives

that I thought I wanted to be,

a published writer, an executive,

marriage and family,

it all dwelled where I could claim

provided I just ascended

every step of effort needed.

 

But time tests and transforms

what is your visions

found a love of writing,

which is my passion

though lies outside the publisher’s walls,

become a supervisor instead of vice president,

yet discovered a joy at that level of work,

and accepted marriage with family

meant something totally different

than I first imagined.

 

Success and accomplishment for me

were an inward journey of learning,

to embrace with understanding a peace

where my feet had actually trod,

for I came to truly find happiness

when I looked for the gems

among the places I had come.

 

It was more reward to me

since I learned to see

all the blessings that had come

rather than what faded from my hopes.

I Know The Way To Paradise

I know the way to paradise

been told it so many times,

from sages who dwelled

in haunted fun houses

their minds shot from lies.

 

And the seers living

within those luxury prisons

who lose a bit of their souls

every single day.

 

Over at the mall

a genius works,

he’s building a ladder to heaven

out of cell phone minutes

has unlimited text options,

but it does him so little good

since he can’t send messages

unto the wife he never found,

so he surfs the net for love

an Eden for his heart,

trapped on web site for dating

still waiting for one reply

to any of his emails.

 

Got so weary from all the directions

to happiness that didn’t work,

just left languishing

between a scream and a yawn,

there’s a new face at the neighbor’s door

claims to have a key to the perfect lie

found it during a bi-pass surgery.

 

His eyes so weary,

though his expression holds a smile

if I can for once

see some magic last beyond his misery

then I’ll take the invitation

and dare to venture

beyond this habitat

of plastic salvation.

Where The Heart Is A Sky

Through the silver sandman’s

lurid arches of night,

tranquil turquoise wings

spread take their soar

and pass the body

beyond every care and concern,

before landing upon

that emerald mountain meadow,

bare feet tingling from the touch of those blades,

which are next to a still cerulean lake,

filled by a waterfall of cascading streams,

ever flowing from a hill of claret boulders,

its effervescent sounds

soothe and entice with strokes of peace.

 

In the air the scent of pine and lavender

twists through the nostrils with their magic,

lift the spirit aloft into the azure canopy

where the heart is a sky,

serene and calm,

quietly hushing every sob.

 

Then slowly immersing in that cool inviting water,

allow its touch to pour over the skin,

softly lost upon its magic floating charms,

life drifting away from any fear.

 

Gradually moving towards

those long gentle waving meadow fingers,

where they are a silky mattress

for gazing upwards where the heart has gone,

across the skin blows a warm zephyr wind,

how it combs the pores and stirs a spell

until willingly surrendering

unto the silence rapture.

 

A golden apple falls from a nearby tree,

and rolls over to where it can

be reached by the hands,

one bite is so intoxicating

with that sweet cider taste,

juices drip smoothly down the throat,

while happiness is carried in its texture

because it opens the eyes

to a lover walking towards where you lay,

perhaps a wish or merely a dream,

but it feels like paradise just the same.

 

One Wisp

One wisp of thought

carefully placed upon my mind

by a wind of whimsy,

brought a vision’s

before my soul in stirring awakening.

 

It happened in a heartbeat,

some unexpected twirl within my head,

images coming of faces and shapes,

all beads of creation

who waited to be strung together

as a necklace of literary jewelry

to form the essence of a novel.

 

And there it began

from the desperate groping within

for answers to the plagues of injustices,

which bore a pain upon my thoughts.

 

Suddenly inside the quill flutter

though I never knew its feel before,

but in all the confusion and newness

slowly the spirit of God touched

with clarity and meaning,

inside me the cloud singer arose,

one voice other than my own,

what dwelled in the sounds I heard

become words having their own life.

 

Thus I moved by that subtle nudge,

my fingers finding lines

like trails traveled for the first time,

every sunrise to bring its own new truths,

each night unveiling other mysteries.

 

Through it all an energy flows

that has its own mind,

so it surges when it wants,

while I ride its currents  across the pages

never sure where they will lead,

only knowing I’m more a passenger

than a pilot on that journey.

Go Ask Grandpa

When I was a child

my grandpa knew everything,

he had deep pockets

that never ran out of change,

always felt so safe

when in his care

because he was never afraid,

but most of all he always could smile,

just an old cowboy

who may have fallen out of his saddle

one too many times

yet could grin and make me laugh.

 

Now I’m on the other side

of that bond

with a grandson of  my own,

oh it sure looks different

from this point of view,

been able to learn a thing to two

about what made my grandpa

always seem to smart.

 

It’s called having a good imagination

or how to stretch the truth

so it gets as worn out

as the sagging skin on an aging body.

 

Guess I have learned that part

extra well,

since my son and daughter in law cringe

when they imagine what gems

my grandson will share from me

once he starts school.

 

Surprise Me

Give me a day not dipped in clichés

where wisdom is borrowed from sitcom sages,

and legislatures don’t plagiarize their recycled speeches

from the book of legalese and oxymorons solutions

for fabricating injustice as progress.

 

Bring me an hour without enigma winds

able to blow through the concrete of minds,

I want the media sages speaking truths

not whitewashed or covered in rainbows mirages.

 

Tell me a tomorrow not carrying a hint of tears

where no hand raises to stop the predictable

so humanity’s tale is redundant epic of cruelty.

 

Grant me hope not stripped by lies,

show me love is more than seductive nuances,

let the earth spin on axis of harmony

instead of this tilt a world reality.

 

Reveal the postcards of the soul,

which reflect the angels that sleep inside,

not leaving them in a Sunday pew scrapbook,

never opened for fear they will fade away.

 

Grace me with the balm of brotherhood

unstained by politics and selfish grasp,

just once open the sky to a light

that does guide to a falling star.

 

Mostly bless each of our crippled lives

until we can see more upon the ground

than the litter from the toys of the rich.

Harvest Fires

her womb’s seasons

haunt the heart

in leafless chimes

 

she feels the emerald blades

still rise inside

like a rain’s freshness,

though her landscape

is now painted

with the hues autumn

 

it doesn’t cease

those harvest fires

once burning as an inferno,

before ashen meadows

claim her fertility

somehow she release

the goddess

 

and dance again

a lover’s vernal thunder

Send Me Oh Lord

I prayed my fervent prayer of plea

that my life would be an offering

unto the glory of my Savior

with whispered wish of sincerity,

“send me, oh Lord.”

 

But when the door opened

so suddenly and unexpected

for me to help a wounded soul

where no one by God

would see my hand’s touch,

there were just so many other demands,

surely someone else would be called,

next time I would be ready,

again uttering my desire,

“send me, oh Lord.”

 

Then came the day

when I was asked

to serve where it might require sacrifice

even perhaps some pain,

was at a time when I had a new job

just knew that was a divine blessing,

no way to say yes without a risk of loss,

once more I say no,

convinced the Lord would understand.

 

Oh so many days

some other opportunity would come

for sharing or serving in a special way

only life just had so many distractions

ever persuaded there was plenty of time.

 

One day I slept and death visited,

my soul was so tired

from all the ways I had feed my own needs,

when my Savior came to take me home

never here the sound of His knocking.

Of Signs and Set Times

For every age there are those who seek signs

they look at any evidence for its prophetic significance

to create chaos in the midst of life

and make the Lord seem like His ways

are not clear and pre-ordained.

 

But God is not the author of confusion

His ways are never disorganized or by accident.

 

Numbers in scripture have a specific meaning

 

One is the number of God

Two is the adequate witness

Three is divine manifestation

Four is the number for the earth

Five the number of grace

Six the number of a man

Seven the number of perfection

Eight, new beginnings

Nine, divine manifestation maximized

Ten the number of human responsibility.

 

Many have look to end times

with vague methods and interpretations,

but the Lord created a meaning for us to understand

when He gave the people of Israel the feast days,

which literally mean, “set times,”

all intended to have a prophetic fulfillment in Christ.

 

The Apostle Paul understood this when he wrote in Colossians 2:17,

“These are shadows of what was to come:

the substance is the Messiah.”

 

Therefore by this we can know

by the timing of each feast

God will complete the words of the prophets

 

And thus the feast have meaning in Jesus

Passover – Jesus Crucifixion as the lamb slain from the foundation of the world.

Feast of Unleavened Bread – Christ’s death and time in the tomb

Feast of First Fruits – His Resurrection as first fruit of resurrection

Pentecost – The Harvest Feast where Holy Spirit came upon the Apostles

 

Rosh Hashanah – Feast of Trumpets – associated with birth of the Lord

and also the possible rapture of the church

Yom Kippur – Day of Atonement – time of the tribulation

Feast of Booths – The Millennium and Second Coming of the Lord.

 

We can praise God for being in control

give Him thanksgiving for His sovereignty

and not be pulled by every wind and whim of teaching

not truly rooted and grounded in His word.

Where Is Heaven?

I never found it in the pews

or the faces of those

who spoke of faith

and God’s love on Sunday,

but forgot it all on Monday morning.

 

It wasn’t real in the words

heard from the thundering pulpits,

nor did prayers that only seemed

to hang on the wind

without a recognizable reply

make me persuaded

something divine truly dwelled

beyond the world where I had survive.

 

In the shallows and counterfeit spirituality

my spirit slowly decayed,

inside I grew so cold

unable imagine the Lord was real

when all I found was pain.

 

All the lectures about scriptures

from broken and bruised hearts

who could hide their  misery

behind quoted verses

never inspired or helped me in anyway.

 

But when I gave up

on all thou shall and shall not,

stopped trying to find heaven

among that whitewashed pillars,

there came a moment of silence

an incense so sweet and serene,

couldn’t explained it,

yet I knew it was the breath of God’s spirit,

and then I learned

once I ceased looking for my idea of the Lord,

He came in my willingness to finally listen

where once I only tried to question.

Sequester My Heart

Hold me close, my darling, the Venus of my heart,

in that warm magical chamber of your arms

that our love would be the only shelter

where I wouldn’t have a pulse should I wander.

 

Without you, I am, but a frail wisp in breath

for your beauty is the balm that heals my life,

and takes my spirit from the cold emptiness of night

to thrive and glow when warmed by your caring flame.

 

Wrap me in your silky, sultry caresses

as delicate gossamer tangles in touches,

gently binding all that is inside my being,

utterly and completely in devotion.

 

Oh my beloved other half of my soul

keep me far from the unbearable pain in longing

should I know too many moments without your kisses,

surely withering forever as a dying leaf.

Amen!

He makes sure the hall is empty,

before closing the door to bathroom,

opens his bible which is hollow,

and removes the bottle of vodka,

tonight he’ll prayer for forgiveness again,

if he doesn’t pass out.

 

Dropping his pants he sits on the toilet,

farts uncontrollably,

those illegal pills he downs

always do that to his system,

but he’s been addicted so long

ever since that hooker

gave him that first taste.

 

Then pulls out the porn magazine

from his suit coat inside pocket,

uses his right hand to fantasize

before a streak of anxiety comes,

it summons an image of his wife and kids

how would they cope

with him getting off

while looking at pictures of naked men?

 

A burp, a gasp of pure orgasmic release,

afterwards he’ll do what he can

in order to restore his appearance,

after all soon he has to stand behind the pulpit

and preach against booze, drugs and homosexuality,

still waiting on that miracle,

which will eliminate all the crap

that he can’t do without,

at least his finally stopped having

those panic attacks

from the offering money

spent on afternoons visiting that farmer

to pay for his silence

about the hours of rear ending his sheep.

 

Unto Your Merciful Arms

Dear Heavenly Father

unto your merciful arms

we lift Joyce and her son

that your hands of healing

would touch his life

and your spirit of love

might wrap around their hearts.

 

May they feel the compassion

flow from your divine breath,

feel the touch of grace

to soothe and calm a hurting soul

grant them faith as a light in any darkness,

let your joy gush into their hearts.

 

For we claimed the promises

of your word,

how you will never forsake or forget

a single life.

 

With praises for your everlasting kindness

shall we bring this petition

before your throne

may it shower them with blessing,

which bring comfort and peace.

 

All of this

do we humble lift up to you

in the precious name of your son,

Jesus.

 

Amen

Steps At Glastonbury

When the Lord walked the earth

His life was preserved in the gospels,

yet some years of His life are kept in shadows

from the time he was around 12

to the approximate age of 30.

 

After the church preached His resurrection

and spread its message of salvation

so many tried to come up with their own interpretations

of His life and purpose.

 

There soon were created twelve different ospels

many were inventions to try and explain

how He could be other than who He claimed,

Son of God and our Lord and Savior.

 

In order to preserve the truth of apostle’s testimonies

eventually the church only accept gospels

whose authors they knew were authentic.

 

But in the wake of their efforts

a plethora of traditions arose

about those 18 years and what he might have done,

there were stories of his visiting India

even the South Americas,

yet they often try to make our Lord

into someone other than the Divine Son Of God.

 

One legend that for believers has a possible inspiration

is that He visited Glastonbury, England,

when in the company of His great Uncle,

Joseph of Arimathea who was a rich and powerful merchant

who had a fleet of ships.

 

And later after the resurrection

Joseph supposedly returned to teach the truth to them.

While it might not be something all can prove,

how it truly does reveal the extent of God’s love

for reaching out to so many.

 

In the end, we all must still ask

who Jesus is to us,

if he be Lord and Savior

then the rest just helps

become the joy of knowing

the degree the Lord went

to be sure His word was heard.