A-walking down the street one day,
I met a man and he did say,
He told me I was crazy.
I told him the same thing.
Well just that night that man went home.
He told his wife and they did roam.
They told the governor in his home.
I got thrown into jail.
We went to court, I lost the case.
It was a very big disgrace.
They all laughed in my silly face.
I went back into jail.
That very night I got real mad,
Cause in a jail you are real sad.
I stole the cell guard’s keys- so rad,
And I broke out of jail.
I ran down the street with a wail,
With 25 guards on my tail.
With a scream I jumped over the rail.
Right smack onto a train.
I grabbed the side and pulled aboard.
The guards jumped on and gave a roar.
I gave a punch and punched some more,
And guards fell off the train.
Eventually, though, the guards still won.
I fought in vain when all was said and done.
I’m back in jail, it’s not much fun.
At least I’m still alive.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
The Cursed Bean
There was a man a long time ago, who was obsessed with beans.
This would be the gaseous kind, not those scummy greens.
Because of this the hungry man always let out gas,
And it all poured out in a smelly gaseous mass.
Needless to say, this poor man never had too many guests,
But he was lucky, because at least he got to rest.
And though he had not many friends, he still had a precious few.
They also shared his bean problem, and often had to go poo
Well one day the bean man and his friends saw a group of girls.
All of them were really hot and knocked their brains to the floor.
The bean dudes decided to stop their habit- and eat no more beans.
From this day on they decided to just eat bean greens.
The smelly beanie guys really took this goal to heart,
And after lots of time they had less and less bean farts.
And then they started to become friends with lots of girls.
Good thing they stopped their habit, cause the girls now didn’t hurl.
Well finally the bean man proposed to a pretty female.
She said yes, they got married, the man’s friends gave a hail.
It’s a good thing he learned to stop eating all those beans.
If he hadn’t he’d have a problem, and his wife would scream.
They had a good long marriage, and had themselves some fun.
They really got along pretty well, when all was said and done.
One day the cured man’s wife threw a surprise party for him.
He was completely clueless, which made him afterwards feel dim.
He was on his way home from work, his normal daily routine.
He couldn’t help but stare at “Restaurant Exquisite Beans”.
He found himself automatically taking a detour.
He quickly parked and found himself at the door.
He went right in and spent $50 on many beans.
And ate them all- 4,000 spicy, gaseous fiends.
When he was done, he groaned, burped, and gave a mighty fart.
By chance he had a lighter, and lit a yard long blue dart.
The workers at the restaurant quickly kicked him out.
On his way home, he had gas, and took the longer route.
When he got into his home driveway, his truck really smelled.
But the Bean Man simply aired it out and said, “Oh well”.
He walked into the house, and his wife blindfolded him.
She led him to the dining room, the lights were really dim.
She sat him down and then walked out, to bring in a cake.
He tried to look like he was fine, though of course it was a fake.
He listened till he was certain that his wife was gone,
Then he stood, lifted his leg, and let out one that was long.
He took a couple strides and hops, let out a couple more,
Then he laid some S.B.D.’s, while rolling on the floor.
He sat back down quickly, before his wife came in.
She put the big cake down, and finally unblinded him.
And that is when he astonishingly gaped around in horror.
15 guests he hadn’t heard were gassed out on the floor.
This would be the gaseous kind, not those scummy greens.
Because of this the hungry man always let out gas,
And it all poured out in a smelly gaseous mass.
Needless to say, this poor man never had too many guests,
But he was lucky, because at least he got to rest.
And though he had not many friends, he still had a precious few.
They also shared his bean problem, and often had to go poo
Well one day the bean man and his friends saw a group of girls.
All of them were really hot and knocked their brains to the floor.
The bean dudes decided to stop their habit- and eat no more beans.
From this day on they decided to just eat bean greens.
The smelly beanie guys really took this goal to heart,
And after lots of time they had less and less bean farts.
And then they started to become friends with lots of girls.
Good thing they stopped their habit, cause the girls now didn’t hurl.
Well finally the bean man proposed to a pretty female.
She said yes, they got married, the man’s friends gave a hail.
It’s a good thing he learned to stop eating all those beans.
If he hadn’t he’d have a problem, and his wife would scream.
They had a good long marriage, and had themselves some fun.
They really got along pretty well, when all was said and done.
One day the cured man’s wife threw a surprise party for him.
He was completely clueless, which made him afterwards feel dim.
He was on his way home from work, his normal daily routine.
He couldn’t help but stare at “Restaurant Exquisite Beans”.
He found himself automatically taking a detour.
He quickly parked and found himself at the door.
He went right in and spent $50 on many beans.
And ate them all- 4,000 spicy, gaseous fiends.
When he was done, he groaned, burped, and gave a mighty fart.
By chance he had a lighter, and lit a yard long blue dart.
The workers at the restaurant quickly kicked him out.
On his way home, he had gas, and took the longer route.
When he got into his home driveway, his truck really smelled.
But the Bean Man simply aired it out and said, “Oh well”.
He walked into the house, and his wife blindfolded him.
She led him to the dining room, the lights were really dim.
She sat him down and then walked out, to bring in a cake.
He tried to look like he was fine, though of course it was a fake.
He listened till he was certain that his wife was gone,
Then he stood, lifted his leg, and let out one that was long.
He took a couple strides and hops, let out a couple more,
Then he laid some S.B.D.’s, while rolling on the floor.
He sat back down quickly, before his wife came in.
She put the big cake down, and finally unblinded him.
And that is when he astonishingly gaped around in horror.
15 guests he hadn’t heard were gassed out on the floor.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
4) Book On The Mountain
Though We The People try to struggle up
The mount of mud,
We leave an ugly trail behind
Of tears, of sweat, of blood.
We know that wrongs by those elected
Are done both day and night.
To keep themselves empowered, they seek
To kill Our every Right.
And now Our plight is so much worse
By giving them the time of day.
They play upon Our fears, that in their power
They may stay.
We keep crawling, but then stop;
Glancing up- a silent sound.
There stands a figure, bowed and bent
Waiting, higher on the mound.
A weathered face, a broken back
Shrouded in a dark, grey cloak.
From cracked, ne’er- used lips
Comes his first, and last, great croak.
‘Use it well! I’ve gathered all I could
From our nation’s past!’
From the black recesses of that cloak he pulls
A volume vast.
A tome of dark secrets, he thrusts into my hands
The needs of One great Nation
Our determination now demands.
Right and left, my compatriots give a firm nod
Back down upon the plains We stand,
Upon the now grey sod.
The sacred knowledge stored I place
Upon the frozen ground.
Together We grasp the volume’s clasp
One Nation ceases every sound.
Far off but growing louder,
Powers That Be are shouting ‘NO!’
‘The time is now, my friends!
Unclasp the clasp! Come on! LET’S GO!!’
‘NOW!!’ We shout together.
The tome’s inner light bursts forth.
In every direction it flows,
West and east, then south and north.
As our forefathers fought for their rights,
From sea to shining sea,
Our country now lies in our hands-
We will again be free!
The mount of mud,
We leave an ugly trail behind
Of tears, of sweat, of blood.
We know that wrongs by those elected
Are done both day and night.
To keep themselves empowered, they seek
To kill Our every Right.
And now Our plight is so much worse
By giving them the time of day.
They play upon Our fears, that in their power
They may stay.
We keep crawling, but then stop;
Glancing up- a silent sound.
There stands a figure, bowed and bent
Waiting, higher on the mound.
A weathered face, a broken back
Shrouded in a dark, grey cloak.
From cracked, ne’er- used lips
Comes his first, and last, great croak.
‘Use it well! I’ve gathered all I could
From our nation’s past!’
From the black recesses of that cloak he pulls
A volume vast.
A tome of dark secrets, he thrusts into my hands
The needs of One great Nation
Our determination now demands.
Right and left, my compatriots give a firm nod
Back down upon the plains We stand,
Upon the now grey sod.
The sacred knowledge stored I place
Upon the frozen ground.
Together We grasp the volume’s clasp
One Nation ceases every sound.
Far off but growing louder,
Powers That Be are shouting ‘NO!’
‘The time is now, my friends!
Unclasp the clasp! Come on! LET’S GO!!’
‘NOW!!’ We shout together.
The tome’s inner light bursts forth.
In every direction it flows,
West and east, then south and north.
As our forefathers fought for their rights,
From sea to shining sea,
Our country now lies in our hands-
We will again be free!
3) Stopping the Storm
For one long moment more I gaze upon
The wretched scene:
One Nation at war, and at its sullied height,
The power machine.
From some great distance deep within
A scream begins to build.
For all our lives we’ve breathed this storm-
We now are overfilled!
‘LOOK!’ I bellow deep into
The huddled masses’ core.
‘Our real enemies use our energies
To fuel their war!
Our great country is divided
And as every great fool knows
A country divided cannot stand
If any strong wind blows.
LOOK atop our mountain
See for yourself the tempest’s cause!
The power machine is wringing out
Our life-blood in its jaws!”
One by one, they begin to hear, and look
And then to see,
And as they do, they understand at last
They are not free.
‘Our lives, our energies and rights
Their storm helps them to steal…
But it has grown so vast!’ they say, and then,
‘How can we heal?’
I say, ‘Open up your mouths,
Let your voices, too, be heard
What rights have been taken from you?
What crimes have you endured?
The power in this country to the People
Once belonged.
Let your voices, too, be heard.
You know, somehow, that we’ve been wronged.
Climb with us up the mountain’s side,
On its ugly, muddy form.
We need your help as never before-
Help us stop the storm!’
The wretched scene:
One Nation at war, and at its sullied height,
The power machine.
From some great distance deep within
A scream begins to build.
For all our lives we’ve breathed this storm-
We now are overfilled!
‘LOOK!’ I bellow deep into
The huddled masses’ core.
‘Our real enemies use our energies
To fuel their war!
Our great country is divided
And as every great fool knows
A country divided cannot stand
If any strong wind blows.
LOOK atop our mountain
See for yourself the tempest’s cause!
The power machine is wringing out
Our life-blood in its jaws!”
One by one, they begin to hear, and look
And then to see,
And as they do, they understand at last
They are not free.
‘Our lives, our energies and rights
Their storm helps them to steal…
But it has grown so vast!’ they say, and then,
‘How can we heal?’
I say, ‘Open up your mouths,
Let your voices, too, be heard
What rights have been taken from you?
What crimes have you endured?
The power in this country to the People
Once belonged.
Let your voices, too, be heard.
You know, somehow, that we’ve been wronged.
Climb with us up the mountain’s side,
On its ugly, muddy form.
We need your help as never before-
Help us stop the storm!’
2) Others in the Storm
The storm has reached its highest peak,
My strength is at an end.
Although my light keeps me upright,
No mortal fiber can contend.
And now again my way is barred,
Not by stone walls before.
A soul now nearly numb beholds
One Nation, all at war.
Among the masses,
Anger, grief, hate, fear, and strife,
And yet in every one I see
Struggling rays of life.
Upon a mountain they don’t see
Each drop of sweat they throw.
And on their pain-filled struggles
This storm is given strength to grow.
Looking up upon the mountain’s height
The center of the storm,
By lightning, in sharp relief is seen
Many a human form.
For a moment they are all I see,
Veiled smiles on each face.
It is for their security they fuel
The Rodent’s Race.
In fighting each other,
Citizens of One Nation do not see.
One Nation, now divisible,
Has been made no longer free.
The light within is burning hot
It blazes white again.
I must help We The People,
Retake their rights again.
The mount of mud for which
Our labors are bled from us is wrong.
Our labors, by their nature
Are OURS, that we may live and thus be strong.
If the Powers That Be
Use not well power that was Ours to give,
It is Our sacred duty to take it back, that We might live.
The darkness keeps so many from seeing
The evils to them done.
It is now my task to share the light
The battle has begun!
My strength is at an end.
Although my light keeps me upright,
No mortal fiber can contend.
And now again my way is barred,
Not by stone walls before.
A soul now nearly numb beholds
One Nation, all at war.
Among the masses,
Anger, grief, hate, fear, and strife,
And yet in every one I see
Struggling rays of life.
Upon a mountain they don’t see
Each drop of sweat they throw.
And on their pain-filled struggles
This storm is given strength to grow.
Looking up upon the mountain’s height
The center of the storm,
By lightning, in sharp relief is seen
Many a human form.
For a moment they are all I see,
Veiled smiles on each face.
It is for their security they fuel
The Rodent’s Race.
In fighting each other,
Citizens of One Nation do not see.
One Nation, now divisible,
Has been made no longer free.
The light within is burning hot
It blazes white again.
I must help We The People,
Retake their rights again.
The mount of mud for which
Our labors are bled from us is wrong.
Our labors, by their nature
Are OURS, that we may live and thus be strong.
If the Powers That Be
Use not well power that was Ours to give,
It is Our sacred duty to take it back, that We might live.
The darkness keeps so many from seeing
The evils to them done.
It is now my task to share the light
The battle has begun!
1) Embracing The Storm
Long have I retreated before the tempest’s mighty wrath.
No matter how I twist and turn,
I stay centered in its path.
Maybe my time at last has come; I soon may hear the call.
For my way is barred by
An endless, sky-high wall.
Flight’s End before me, surely sounds of Death follow behind.
Now I have no choice but to choose
So I here make up my mind.
It helps me not to cower in a helpless, fearful form.
I step back from the cold, unfeeling wall,
And face the storm.
Once, twice, thrice
Against the rock my body’s thrown.
Through each successive blast
Both my pain and faith have grown.
I realize, if stay I here, my ending will be sure.
Now through the storm I push- each fiber plays its part as I endure.
Thunder, lightning, snow and hail,
Freezing rain each show their hand.
Still I’m pushing through the pain; still I stumble, fall, and stand.
The tempest’s fury grows, but my strength grows in equal measure.
Soon every pain-filled step holds
A touch of winner’s pleasure.
No sun is shown, no warming orb from heaven given me.
My light comes from within:
Though all is dark, at last I see!
I left the wall for the unknown; faith’s rock alone I stayed.
Waves of giddiness within- I no longer am afraid!
No matter how I twist and turn,
I stay centered in its path.
Maybe my time at last has come; I soon may hear the call.
For my way is barred by
An endless, sky-high wall.
Flight’s End before me, surely sounds of Death follow behind.
Now I have no choice but to choose
So I here make up my mind.
It helps me not to cower in a helpless, fearful form.
I step back from the cold, unfeeling wall,
And face the storm.
Once, twice, thrice
Against the rock my body’s thrown.
Through each successive blast
Both my pain and faith have grown.
I realize, if stay I here, my ending will be sure.
Now through the storm I push- each fiber plays its part as I endure.
Thunder, lightning, snow and hail,
Freezing rain each show their hand.
Still I’m pushing through the pain; still I stumble, fall, and stand.
The tempest’s fury grows, but my strength grows in equal measure.
Soon every pain-filled step holds
A touch of winner’s pleasure.
No sun is shown, no warming orb from heaven given me.
My light comes from within:
Though all is dark, at last I see!
I left the wall for the unknown; faith’s rock alone I stayed.
Waves of giddiness within- I no longer am afraid!
Impossibly Gorgeous
Smooth as vanilla, cold as ice,
Groovy like swing dance, tasty as spice,
Red like fire, bright as pure gold,
Worthy of all the worlds can hold.
Rough as the seas, warm as fresh bread,
Bitter, like tragedy, unmoving like the dead,
Free as the sky, yet crippling as money,
Sweeter than a beehive’s unrefined honey.
The golden steel, that beautiful blade,
Never doth that glitzy shine fade.
Sharp as a needle, hot as the sun,
Strong as the victory in tragedy won.
The golden girl, that femme fatale.
That smooth, groovy sashay never needed no ballet.
Walking along, singing my favorite song.
That flaming strudel can do no wrong.
Groovy like swing dance, tasty as spice,
Red like fire, bright as pure gold,
Worthy of all the worlds can hold.
Rough as the seas, warm as fresh bread,
Bitter, like tragedy, unmoving like the dead,
Free as the sky, yet crippling as money,
Sweeter than a beehive’s unrefined honey.
The golden steel, that beautiful blade,
Never doth that glitzy shine fade.
Sharp as a needle, hot as the sun,
Strong as the victory in tragedy won.
The golden girl, that femme fatale.
That smooth, groovy sashay never needed no ballet.
Walking along, singing my favorite song.
That flaming strudel can do no wrong.
Monday, August 23, 2010
The Anticipation
A prophet of old, six hundred measures of time
Before the year,
Foretold that wonderful day when Emmanuel
Would be here.
When Shepherds watched their flocks by night and heard
The angels sing,
They traveled to a stable to worship
Their Lord and King.
Men of learning studied and watched and prayed
To see the day,
That God would shine a beam of light to show
And point the way.
An old man who was promised that before
His life was done,
He would see his Savior, the Lord of lords
And Holy One.
And when lead by the Spirit to the
Temple of the Lord,
He said, “Now I have seen salvation, according
To thy word.”
He had waited a lifetime, only hoping
To get a glimpse.
Of his Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ,
The Holy Prince.
The heavens themselves had waited to proclaim
The Savior’s birth.
He who one day would suffer and die for the sins
Of all the earth.
And so let us all remember the importance
Of that day
Our eternal life depended on, of Him who has led
And shown the way.
Before the year,
Foretold that wonderful day when Emmanuel
Would be here.
When Shepherds watched their flocks by night and heard
The angels sing,
They traveled to a stable to worship
Their Lord and King.
Men of learning studied and watched and prayed
To see the day,
That God would shine a beam of light to show
And point the way.
An old man who was promised that before
His life was done,
He would see his Savior, the Lord of lords
And Holy One.
And when lead by the Spirit to the
Temple of the Lord,
He said, “Now I have seen salvation, according
To thy word.”
He had waited a lifetime, only hoping
To get a glimpse.
Of his Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ,
The Holy Prince.
The heavens themselves had waited to proclaim
The Savior’s birth.
He who one day would suffer and die for the sins
Of all the earth.
And so let us all remember the importance
Of that day
Our eternal life depended on, of Him who has led
And shown the way.
The Chocolate Chip Cookie
Throughout this world of wonder
There are many things of merit,
And those with eyes to see at all
Know that we should share it.
Many edible things to eat,
And most go past the hips,
But nothing is quite as satisfying as
A bunch of chocolate chips.
Twas a genius who first took a chip,
And adding, though a rookie
Made a worldwide renowned recipe
With one gigantic cookie.
I don’t claim to be a genius,
But I can still enjoy a plate
Of these yummy gooey morsels,
Meant for anyone who eats great!
There are many things of merit,
And those with eyes to see at all
Know that we should share it.
Many edible things to eat,
And most go past the hips,
But nothing is quite as satisfying as
A bunch of chocolate chips.
Twas a genius who first took a chip,
And adding, though a rookie
Made a worldwide renowned recipe
With one gigantic cookie.
I don’t claim to be a genius,
But I can still enjoy a plate
Of these yummy gooey morsels,
Meant for anyone who eats great!
The Seed Of Faith
The seed of faith, the smallest of all.
The potential is there for that seed to grow tall.
Like a mustard seed, when planted with care,
Can grow to great heights, no beauty compares.
A child, it seems, is born as the tree.
His faith never wavers, turns or flees.
When opposition bids him fall,
He stands unaffected, a great steel wall.
Such powerful faith, such strength is not found
In men on this earth for miles around.
And yet the unfaithful teach the steel wall.
To the children it is we should give heeding call!
Why do we question what God has said?
Our faith is naught but a weak, thin thread
That bends under pressure, and finally breaks,
While the child’s? - stronger each day he makes.
Not questioning what he’s told to do,
Only doing, though it be great tasks or few.
I’ll strive to be like the child’s way,
And do what my God has told me today.
My faith will start as a seed, I know.
But as I nurture it, my seed will grow.
Someday I hope to be that great tree
That will stand next to the child’s, faithfully!
The potential is there for that seed to grow tall.
Like a mustard seed, when planted with care,
Can grow to great heights, no beauty compares.
A child, it seems, is born as the tree.
His faith never wavers, turns or flees.
When opposition bids him fall,
He stands unaffected, a great steel wall.
Such powerful faith, such strength is not found
In men on this earth for miles around.
And yet the unfaithful teach the steel wall.
To the children it is we should give heeding call!
Why do we question what God has said?
Our faith is naught but a weak, thin thread
That bends under pressure, and finally breaks,
While the child’s? - stronger each day he makes.
Not questioning what he’s told to do,
Only doing, though it be great tasks or few.
I’ll strive to be like the child’s way,
And do what my God has told me today.
My faith will start as a seed, I know.
But as I nurture it, my seed will grow.
Someday I hope to be that great tree
That will stand next to the child’s, faithfully!
Take a Dare
One day on the edge of a cliff, from my friends I took a dare.
I jumped right off and left it to my luck how I would fare.
I guess I was real lucky, at the bottom there was a river.
When I landed in it, it was cold, and I started to shiver.
The river took me quickly along, I tried to stay afloat.
Since I couldn’t swim real well, I think I looked like a goat.
I grabbed a piece of driftwood, that luckily floated by.
But soon I was really soaked, it was hard to stay dry.
Soon I realized that this really wasn’t all that bad.
It was kind of like tubing, and that was pretty rad.
But then I looked ahead, Oh no, a waterfall!
I yelled for help, I don’t think anyone heard my call.
I decided if I was to die, I would go in style.
I jumped off and did a bomb, and then fell a mile.
When I reached the bottom, I hit the water-smack!
And then for a while, consciousness I lacked.
When I awoke, to my horror, I found I was tied up.
Around me people danced, and many drank from a cup.
The people were all dressed up like those on islands of the sea
Since everyone seemed so happy, I was filled with glee.
But then I glanced to my right, and saw a humongous fire.
I looked in the eyes of the people, and viewed hungry desire.
Some were sharpening knives and looked on me with hunger.
I had fallen among cannibals, life couldn’t get better.
Well I think it’s safe to say that my life is lost.
I took a dare, look what happened- my life is the cost.
So to those who like to be brave, I warn you- beware!
You never know what could happen if you take a dare.
I jumped right off and left it to my luck how I would fare.
I guess I was real lucky, at the bottom there was a river.
When I landed in it, it was cold, and I started to shiver.
The river took me quickly along, I tried to stay afloat.
Since I couldn’t swim real well, I think I looked like a goat.
I grabbed a piece of driftwood, that luckily floated by.
But soon I was really soaked, it was hard to stay dry.
Soon I realized that this really wasn’t all that bad.
It was kind of like tubing, and that was pretty rad.
But then I looked ahead, Oh no, a waterfall!
I yelled for help, I don’t think anyone heard my call.
I decided if I was to die, I would go in style.
I jumped off and did a bomb, and then fell a mile.
When I reached the bottom, I hit the water-smack!
And then for a while, consciousness I lacked.
When I awoke, to my horror, I found I was tied up.
Around me people danced, and many drank from a cup.
The people were all dressed up like those on islands of the sea
Since everyone seemed so happy, I was filled with glee.
But then I glanced to my right, and saw a humongous fire.
I looked in the eyes of the people, and viewed hungry desire.
Some were sharpening knives and looked on me with hunger.
I had fallen among cannibals, life couldn’t get better.
Well I think it’s safe to say that my life is lost.
I took a dare, look what happened- my life is the cost.
So to those who like to be brave, I warn you- beware!
You never know what could happen if you take a dare.
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Inner Strength
When conquering the inner fears,
One must look straight up.
Not doing so will simply keep
The gazer in a rut.
When goals are set and kept in sight,
No matter wind or gale
And one holds tightly to the right
He simply cannot fail.
And if the warrior stumbles hard
It matters not where or when.
It matters only if he fights
Until he stands again!
A hero is not made
By huge muscles built in ease
But by the many times
He has struggled from his knees.
For in the painful struggles
Is where hidden strength be found.
By demanding self to standing
He will rise up from the ground.
One must look straight up.
Not doing so will simply keep
The gazer in a rut.
When goals are set and kept in sight,
No matter wind or gale
And one holds tightly to the right
He simply cannot fail.
And if the warrior stumbles hard
It matters not where or when.
It matters only if he fights
Until he stands again!
A hero is not made
By huge muscles built in ease
But by the many times
He has struggled from his knees.
For in the painful struggles
Is where hidden strength be found.
By demanding self to standing
He will rise up from the ground.
Light Within a Snowflake
So beautiful the earth can be, so colorful and bright.
Such a precious gift we have, to see each lifting sight.
Every thing of beauty was made by Him above:
Does not every blade of grass give proof of his love?
I appreciate the beauty of the summer, spring, and fall.
When I see the wintertime, I think I love it most of all.
Perhaps ‘tis why I walk the hills when nature makes them glow.
I behold a miracle when I move through the snow.
I see it when it lightly falls, and when it dusts my path.
I travel through it, when days of storm can seem so full of wrath.
I deeply breathe, when breathing fills my lungs with chilly air.
The hills themselves are shining, each snowflake very fair.
Through the sparkling meadows, my footprints filled behind.
I gaze and gaze, and marvel, untold beauty grips my mind.
I walk through fields crafted by His loving, gentle hands.
I pause, and think, What right have I to make even one demand?
If He in all His wisdom, His glory, and His light.
Gives me the chance to look thereon, I have no need for spite.
Fear, or hate, or anger- none of these can measure up.
But faith, and love, and beauty; with these He fills my cup.
Many think they have the reason and the wisdom fit to say
Miracles do not occur, in this enlightened day.
I wish to shout about all the miracles that I see,
The very snow you walk upon is a miracle to me!
The sky, the clouds, trees and mountains, fish that swim in streams...
What among these could we create that were not merely dreams?
We ourselves are miracles
The more we live, we know
And that is why I love to see
The Light within the snow
Such a precious gift we have, to see each lifting sight.
Every thing of beauty was made by Him above:
Does not every blade of grass give proof of his love?
I appreciate the beauty of the summer, spring, and fall.
When I see the wintertime, I think I love it most of all.
Perhaps ‘tis why I walk the hills when nature makes them glow.
I behold a miracle when I move through the snow.
I see it when it lightly falls, and when it dusts my path.
I travel through it, when days of storm can seem so full of wrath.
I deeply breathe, when breathing fills my lungs with chilly air.
The hills themselves are shining, each snowflake very fair.
Through the sparkling meadows, my footprints filled behind.
I gaze and gaze, and marvel, untold beauty grips my mind.
I walk through fields crafted by His loving, gentle hands.
I pause, and think, What right have I to make even one demand?
If He in all His wisdom, His glory, and His light.
Gives me the chance to look thereon, I have no need for spite.
Fear, or hate, or anger- none of these can measure up.
But faith, and love, and beauty; with these He fills my cup.
Many think they have the reason and the wisdom fit to say
Miracles do not occur, in this enlightened day.
I wish to shout about all the miracles that I see,
The very snow you walk upon is a miracle to me!
The sky, the clouds, trees and mountains, fish that swim in streams...
What among these could we create that were not merely dreams?
We ourselves are miracles
The more we live, we know
And that is why I love to see
The Light within the snow
One Rule
If every single human on the face of planet earth
Chose not to mock or to down play another person’s worth,
If everyone lived strictly by the priceless Golden Rule,
All would smile, few would frown, no one would feel a fool.
‘Impossible’ you say, ‘for there would surely still exist
All the little insults, bar a swiftly propelled fist.
Doors would slam and breaks still jam, the middle finger fly,
All for inconvenience, the bothersome little guy!’
But I would here submit that we don’t have to lose our cool.
Simply think our way to do and say and live the Golden Rule.
If such occurred I do believe a miracle would take place.
Beasts would cease to live and thrive within the human race.
And that would make our presidents and governors think twice.
About running for an office if we knew they were not nice.
“The lesser of two evils” would cease to be the voter’s motto.
And everyone would get a share when a person won the lotto.
A “Zion Society” would exist upon the earth, though improbable the word,
And friendship would abound in places that once were thought absurd!
Chose not to mock or to down play another person’s worth,
If everyone lived strictly by the priceless Golden Rule,
All would smile, few would frown, no one would feel a fool.
‘Impossible’ you say, ‘for there would surely still exist
All the little insults, bar a swiftly propelled fist.
Doors would slam and breaks still jam, the middle finger fly,
All for inconvenience, the bothersome little guy!’
But I would here submit that we don’t have to lose our cool.
Simply think our way to do and say and live the Golden Rule.
If such occurred I do believe a miracle would take place.
Beasts would cease to live and thrive within the human race.
And that would make our presidents and governors think twice.
About running for an office if we knew they were not nice.
“The lesser of two evils” would cease to be the voter’s motto.
And everyone would get a share when a person won the lotto.
A “Zion Society” would exist upon the earth, though improbable the word,
And friendship would abound in places that once were thought absurd!
Plan of Happiness
In the preexistence we were bodiless because
We were the intelligences organized before the world was.
We wanted to become like unto God,
To be able to be faithful, and hold to the rod.
In Moses three seven, it tells how we came around.
The Lord God formed man from the dust of the ground.
All were before created as spirit bodies first.
But that’s when fate took a turn for the worst.
Satan, thinking, “I will be like the Most High”
Led one third away with his deceitful lies.
Good versus bad, in heaven a war.
One third were cast out through heaven’s door.
Then we came down upon the earth.
Adam and Eve first given physical birth.
As Satan sought to destroy the agency of man,
Telling Eve to partake of the fruit, although banned.
She did, as did Adam, which brought about the Fall.
No longer were they allowed to breach Eden’s wall.
And with the Fall there came down a veil
Blinding spiritual eyes, a great cause to wail.
Now Adam and Eve were able to give birth.
The family was created for the first time on earth.
Everyone is related, because of Adam and Eve.
Mankind out of Adam and Eve were conceived.
Adam was a prophet, the first of them all.
Even today we can give our prophet a call.
With prophets came the temples, filling the world today.
They help us renew covenants, to prevent spiritual decay.
We had them in Biblical times long ago.
Very similar to today, as history will show.
Principles and ordinances in them are done.
Our sins and transgression we learn to shun.
Long after Adam, through Abraham’s seed,
Came Jesus Christ, on the cross did He bleed.
He, being our Savior, died for all men.
His atonement lets us into heaven once again.
Because of his sacrifice, and his resurrection,
We too will be resurrected after our life is done.
We’ll go to spirit prison or spirit paradise there,
Judging by our works, it’s really quite fair.
At last, Judgement Day, to which we will go.
There we will finally reap what we sow.
And if we have repented, and have done what’s right.
We will obtain immortality, and Eternal Life.
We were the intelligences organized before the world was.
We wanted to become like unto God,
To be able to be faithful, and hold to the rod.
In Moses three seven, it tells how we came around.
The Lord God formed man from the dust of the ground.
All were before created as spirit bodies first.
But that’s when fate took a turn for the worst.
Satan, thinking, “I will be like the Most High”
Led one third away with his deceitful lies.
Good versus bad, in heaven a war.
One third were cast out through heaven’s door.
Then we came down upon the earth.
Adam and Eve first given physical birth.
As Satan sought to destroy the agency of man,
Telling Eve to partake of the fruit, although banned.
She did, as did Adam, which brought about the Fall.
No longer were they allowed to breach Eden’s wall.
And with the Fall there came down a veil
Blinding spiritual eyes, a great cause to wail.
Now Adam and Eve were able to give birth.
The family was created for the first time on earth.
Everyone is related, because of Adam and Eve.
Mankind out of Adam and Eve were conceived.
Adam was a prophet, the first of them all.
Even today we can give our prophet a call.
With prophets came the temples, filling the world today.
They help us renew covenants, to prevent spiritual decay.
We had them in Biblical times long ago.
Very similar to today, as history will show.
Principles and ordinances in them are done.
Our sins and transgression we learn to shun.
Long after Adam, through Abraham’s seed,
Came Jesus Christ, on the cross did He bleed.
He, being our Savior, died for all men.
His atonement lets us into heaven once again.
Because of his sacrifice, and his resurrection,
We too will be resurrected after our life is done.
We’ll go to spirit prison or spirit paradise there,
Judging by our works, it’s really quite fair.
At last, Judgement Day, to which we will go.
There we will finally reap what we sow.
And if we have repented, and have done what’s right.
We will obtain immortality, and Eternal Life.
How It Feels
How fragile any life can be,
How great a person’s soul.
How hard to fully comprehend one’s worth when one is whole.
I couldn’t allow myself to take
Another’s heart so grand.
I felt I held eternity in my shaking mortal hands!
Everything that the Father has
All that He has made,
Galaxies- eternities upon His power are stayed.
All of these He made for us!
Kept each moment by His power,
We are God’s own treasure every moment of every hour.
I feel when we are talking
Or when we’re holding hands
That I’m holding priceless treasure I cannot comprehend.
That feeling terrifies me,
Yet fills me with such wonder
That I am counted worthy such a feeling to be under…
How great a person’s soul.
How hard to fully comprehend one’s worth when one is whole.
I couldn’t allow myself to take
Another’s heart so grand.
I felt I held eternity in my shaking mortal hands!
Everything that the Father has
All that He has made,
Galaxies- eternities upon His power are stayed.
All of these He made for us!
Kept each moment by His power,
We are God’s own treasure every moment of every hour.
I feel when we are talking
Or when we’re holding hands
That I’m holding priceless treasure I cannot comprehend.
That feeling terrifies me,
Yet fills me with such wonder
That I am counted worthy such a feeling to be under…
Heart of All Hearts
As you look over my body, this skin, this face,
What you could see cannot be erased.
You see nothing except what is shown skin deep.
Appearance is your forte, it is all that you keep.
You are so blind, so ignorant, so wrong.
You couldn’t begin to guess the nature of my soul’s song.
The reason? - you look only with the naked eye.
The colors of my soul would be enough to make you cry.
The Greatest of all took every human’s pain,
To help them become great, it was all for their gain.
To die by the hands of those He would save
Was the only sacrifice that could conquer the grave.
I gave up my heart, with nothing to gain.
You ripped it apart, and mocked my pain.
I knew what would happen; I did it willingly.
There is still something greater that none will ever see.
It is too precious, to expose to sharp darts.
I call it, by name, my sacred heart of hearts.
What you could see cannot be erased.
You see nothing except what is shown skin deep.
Appearance is your forte, it is all that you keep.
You are so blind, so ignorant, so wrong.
You couldn’t begin to guess the nature of my soul’s song.
The reason? - you look only with the naked eye.
The colors of my soul would be enough to make you cry.
The Greatest of all took every human’s pain,
To help them become great, it was all for their gain.
To die by the hands of those He would save
Was the only sacrifice that could conquer the grave.
I gave up my heart, with nothing to gain.
You ripped it apart, and mocked my pain.
I knew what would happen; I did it willingly.
There is still something greater that none will ever see.
It is too precious, to expose to sharp darts.
I call it, by name, my sacred heart of hearts.
Food
Food is a wonderful thing to eat.
It makes your tummy feel so sweet.
And if you are a-feeling down,
Just think of food and you won’t frown.
I believe Italian is the best.
Ravioli and the rest.
The spaghetti you eat will make you smile.
Pizza fills you for a while.
Next in line is breakfast food.
It puts you in a happy mood.
Toaster pastries taste so great
And smell so good, it’s hard to wait.
Waffles taste so very fine
And syrup makes them quite sublime.
Breakfast cakes have a great taste.
You eat it all and do not waste.
I think the very best thing to have
Is candy when you feel so bad.
Peanut butter, caramel, chocolate too.
If you have more, that is cool.
And then of course there is gourmet.
Stroganoff, noodles and sauce, they’re good any day.
Or you could have some Chili Chip Pie.
It’s so good, it’s for to die.
A camping specialty is cordon- bleu.
Chicken and bacon smothered in soup.
Succulent pieces of meat melting fast.
A savory treat you want to last.
Through it all, happiness in eating.
Food is the very best part of greeting.
It makes your tummy feel so sweet.
And if you are a-feeling down,
Just think of food and you won’t frown.
I believe Italian is the best.
Ravioli and the rest.
The spaghetti you eat will make you smile.
Pizza fills you for a while.
Next in line is breakfast food.
It puts you in a happy mood.
Toaster pastries taste so great
And smell so good, it’s hard to wait.
Waffles taste so very fine
And syrup makes them quite sublime.
Breakfast cakes have a great taste.
You eat it all and do not waste.
I think the very best thing to have
Is candy when you feel so bad.
Peanut butter, caramel, chocolate too.
If you have more, that is cool.
And then of course there is gourmet.
Stroganoff, noodles and sauce, they’re good any day.
Or you could have some Chili Chip Pie.
It’s so good, it’s for to die.
A camping specialty is cordon- bleu.
Chicken and bacon smothered in soup.
Succulent pieces of meat melting fast.
A savory treat you want to last.
Through it all, happiness in eating.
Food is the very best part of greeting.
Femme Fatale
She had that look, the look that stops all.
The cars crash, the lights stop, the towers fall.
Her eyes go narrow, and you shake to the bone.
Cold is your marrow, in terror you moan.
She rules the race with a fist of steel.
She drives the machine, both hands to the wheel.
An ability to kill and a look to control.
What she wants, she gets- her wish is your goal.
She speaks- your mind is controlled by the sound.
She walks- you are barred, no way to be found.
She breathes, and you find you cannot speak.
All power to her is shown rather weak.
Help me, you cry, as her feet step near.
Free me, you sigh, from my cold walls of fear.
Take me where no path can touch me with harm.
I am swept along, on your hot waves of charm.
The cars crash, the lights stop, the towers fall.
Her eyes go narrow, and you shake to the bone.
Cold is your marrow, in terror you moan.
She rules the race with a fist of steel.
She drives the machine, both hands to the wheel.
An ability to kill and a look to control.
What she wants, she gets- her wish is your goal.
She speaks- your mind is controlled by the sound.
She walks- you are barred, no way to be found.
She breathes, and you find you cannot speak.
All power to her is shown rather weak.
Help me, you cry, as her feet step near.
Free me, you sigh, from my cold walls of fear.
Take me where no path can touch me with harm.
I am swept along, on your hot waves of charm.
The Odd One
In every state in the U.S., in almost all the world,
Many people have had their awesome reputations hurled.
That’s partly why everybody always goes with the flow.
They don’t want to get anyone to turn out their foe.
And that’s why, you see, there’s always a cool hip style.
If someone decides to dress right, they’re popular for a while.
And if some not-cool preppy says the right stuff,
Everyone is good to them and not in a huff.
You’ll find everyone will eventually compromise.
If their reputation’s at stake, they’ll avoid their demise.
It’s a noble brave one who defies the laws of tradition.
Looking for one who is weird, yet liked, would be quite a mission.
But though it’s a gigantic task, there still are a very few
Who do not base their lives on what others say and do.
These “Odd Ones” go their own way, are proud of what they are.
Because they are the exception, in life they will go far.
I am proud to say that an Odd One am I.
I can stay cool, when I get into a fry.
I try to do what no one else has already done.
I go against tradition, and still it’s really fun.
I guess you could say that in this I have experience.
I urge you to be an Odd One like me, from this time hence.
Do everything the way you want, and have your own kind of fun.
If someone asks who you are, tell them you are an Odd One.
Many people have had their awesome reputations hurled.
That’s partly why everybody always goes with the flow.
They don’t want to get anyone to turn out their foe.
And that’s why, you see, there’s always a cool hip style.
If someone decides to dress right, they’re popular for a while.
And if some not-cool preppy says the right stuff,
Everyone is good to them and not in a huff.
You’ll find everyone will eventually compromise.
If their reputation’s at stake, they’ll avoid their demise.
It’s a noble brave one who defies the laws of tradition.
Looking for one who is weird, yet liked, would be quite a mission.
But though it’s a gigantic task, there still are a very few
Who do not base their lives on what others say and do.
These “Odd Ones” go their own way, are proud of what they are.
Because they are the exception, in life they will go far.
I am proud to say that an Odd One am I.
I can stay cool, when I get into a fry.
I try to do what no one else has already done.
I go against tradition, and still it’s really fun.
I guess you could say that in this I have experience.
I urge you to be an Odd One like me, from this time hence.
Do everything the way you want, and have your own kind of fun.
If someone asks who you are, tell them you are an Odd One.
No Fear
Falling down, forever descending.
Freefalling always, completely unending.
Never, no never, does one reach the ground.
No feeling emotion, no sense of sound.
An action all-new, before never done.
Once to start, a perpetual run.
A ray is impossible, or so they say.
No thing with a start can always stay.
Forever to forever, an expanding sphere.
Constant bombardment of shock.
No Fear!
Freefalling always, completely unending.
Never, no never, does one reach the ground.
No feeling emotion, no sense of sound.
An action all-new, before never done.
Once to start, a perpetual run.
A ray is impossible, or so they say.
No thing with a start can always stay.
Forever to forever, an expanding sphere.
Constant bombardment of shock.
No Fear!
Reflection
Flowers and sunsets and breeze so light,
Freeing my soul as it bursts into flight.
Birds singing joyfully, as spring comes again.
Memories flowing for times way back when.
Shadows of friends who have gone long before.
Their friendship endures, now and evermore.
Good times that helped to end a fun day,
And gave glimpses of sunlight when all seemed gray.
Places visited in years gone by,
Sad times that bring tears and cause one to cry.
Times that bring smiles for experience gained.
Nature’s cold shower whenever it rained
Working together for one and for all,
Yes, for together we stand straight and tall.
Freeing my soul as it bursts into flight.
Birds singing joyfully, as spring comes again.
Memories flowing for times way back when.
Shadows of friends who have gone long before.
Their friendship endures, now and evermore.
Good times that helped to end a fun day,
And gave glimpses of sunlight when all seemed gray.
Places visited in years gone by,
Sad times that bring tears and cause one to cry.
Times that bring smiles for experience gained.
Nature’s cold shower whenever it rained
Working together for one and for all,
Yes, for together we stand straight and tall.
Camping
Camping is the best way to go.
You hike up a trail and then camp in the snow.
It may seem that you don’t want to go.
I’m telling you now, if you don’t you’ll be low.
The first thing to do is to bring the right food.
Ravioli, steak, pastries, and bacon should do.
Add some pancakes and chocolate chips too.
Bring your griddle and up goes your mood.
The second on your list is how to make fire.
You want to cook and some warmth for desire.
Bring some white gas and lots of salt peter.
It’s like a humongous, gigantic heater.
Next thing you’ll need is all the essentials-
Pocketknife, pots and pans, and all the utensils.
Bring some toilet paper, it does more than one thing.
It burns and starts the fire, for your pots it cleans.
You should also bring snacks for the trail.
It’s good to bring trail mix, without it you’ll fail.
If you have sweet food, have plenty to spare.
‘Cause everyone will want some be sure to share.
A great thing to do is to bring the right clothes.
When it’s winter, bring socks for your toes.
Since camping truly is the way to go.
Bring long underwear and a mask for your nose.
A thing to remember is sleeping time.
A sleeping bag’s good, though it doesn’t rhyme.
You need a tent to block the snow so
Santa Clause will say, “Ho-Ho-Ho!
The last and final thing you need to know
Is how to carry it without a lot to tow
You better pack light if you want to go.
Make it like you want it you’ll be singing so.
You hike up a trail and then camp in the snow.
It may seem that you don’t want to go.
I’m telling you now, if you don’t you’ll be low.
The first thing to do is to bring the right food.
Ravioli, steak, pastries, and bacon should do.
Add some pancakes and chocolate chips too.
Bring your griddle and up goes your mood.
The second on your list is how to make fire.
You want to cook and some warmth for desire.
Bring some white gas and lots of salt peter.
It’s like a humongous, gigantic heater.
Next thing you’ll need is all the essentials-
Pocketknife, pots and pans, and all the utensils.
Bring some toilet paper, it does more than one thing.
It burns and starts the fire, for your pots it cleans.
You should also bring snacks for the trail.
It’s good to bring trail mix, without it you’ll fail.
If you have sweet food, have plenty to spare.
‘Cause everyone will want some be sure to share.
A great thing to do is to bring the right clothes.
When it’s winter, bring socks for your toes.
Since camping truly is the way to go.
Bring long underwear and a mask for your nose.
A thing to remember is sleeping time.
A sleeping bag’s good, though it doesn’t rhyme.
You need a tent to block the snow so
Santa Clause will say, “Ho-Ho-Ho!
The last and final thing you need to know
Is how to carry it without a lot to tow
You better pack light if you want to go.
Make it like you want it you’ll be singing so.
Broken
Seventy five is what you said.
I believed you- now I lay weak in a bed.
Seventy five of one hundred would win.
I can’t even raise this hand, it’s so thin.
Look at the waste you have made of my soul.
This is not what you said, and not what you told.
Look at this body, now one- tenth as strong.
You said this was good, why were you wrong?
My parents paid thousands for me to get well.
Their lives they’d give, their lives they’d sell.
They put faith in you and for that they have paid.
They watch in despair as I slowly slip away.
You knew it would kill me, and you said this was right.
I’ve stopped trying to live, I’ve lost my will to fight.
Is this what you meant when you said I would heal?
I am moved in a wheelchair, others feed me my meals.
Did you know I would die when you saw me that day?
Did you know Dad was wasting all the money he paid?
Did you think of the tears you would cause my mother?
Her one wish was for me, her prayers for no other.
All the x- rays and tests, the pills and the meds
Have not kept your patients from living as dead.
They say you’re experts, yet what good have you done?
You break peoples’ lives- do you find that much fun?
I believed you- now I lay weak in a bed.
Seventy five of one hundred would win.
I can’t even raise this hand, it’s so thin.
Look at the waste you have made of my soul.
This is not what you said, and not what you told.
Look at this body, now one- tenth as strong.
You said this was good, why were you wrong?
My parents paid thousands for me to get well.
Their lives they’d give, their lives they’d sell.
They put faith in you and for that they have paid.
They watch in despair as I slowly slip away.
You knew it would kill me, and you said this was right.
I’ve stopped trying to live, I’ve lost my will to fight.
Is this what you meant when you said I would heal?
I am moved in a wheelchair, others feed me my meals.
Did you know I would die when you saw me that day?
Did you know Dad was wasting all the money he paid?
Did you think of the tears you would cause my mother?
Her one wish was for me, her prayers for no other.
All the x- rays and tests, the pills and the meds
Have not kept your patients from living as dead.
They say you’re experts, yet what good have you done?
You break peoples’ lives- do you find that much fun?
What Am I
I am he who walks alone
I live on earth, my quest to roam
I do not die but make things rust
After me, people start to trust
I bind man with knowledge of me, they race against me in vain
Ones in me eventually cannot see
I also make it rain
It is by me deadlines are set; men go to jail if I can’t be met
I get kids in trouble for being late
Those who die have me to hate
I’m as a circle which never ends
I have carved in me lots of trends
I always go forward, leave men behind
I make things dull, sometimes shine
I’m represented by watches and clocks
A piece of me in each “tick-tock”
Everything through me will always pass
I sometimes go slow, sometimes go fast
And now I tell you what I am
I may not always chime
I govern the earth, its unknown king
I am known as time
I live on earth, my quest to roam
I do not die but make things rust
After me, people start to trust
I bind man with knowledge of me, they race against me in vain
Ones in me eventually cannot see
I also make it rain
It is by me deadlines are set; men go to jail if I can’t be met
I get kids in trouble for being late
Those who die have me to hate
I’m as a circle which never ends
I have carved in me lots of trends
I always go forward, leave men behind
I make things dull, sometimes shine
I’m represented by watches and clocks
A piece of me in each “tick-tock”
Everything through me will always pass
I sometimes go slow, sometimes go fast
And now I tell you what I am
I may not always chime
I govern the earth, its unknown king
I am known as time
Good Versus Evil
From the beginning of time until the end,
Good fight bad, some don’t comprehend.
King Arthur of old versus the bad ones,
The Chinese army against the Huns.
God the Father faces the devil,
Because Satan decided to rebel.
The Church of God to the anti-christ,
The cat and the owl hunt the good mice.
The good leaders in the world tend to be rare,
But the bad leaders, you see don’t well fare.
Religious leaders who teach for gain,
Principles of old are now in vain.
Maybe we one day will regain what was lost,
If such is to happen, it will be at great cost.
But great cost aside, it has to be now.
Many have tried, but I don’t know how.
Evil knights and sorcerers of old
Have turned into robbers who now are bold.
Instead of dragons we have murderers,
Pollution takes from earth what was hers.
In this world where neighbors aren’t friends,
Companions of late now start to contend.
Feelings of hate and contempt are strong,
We must change, it is so very wrong.
Good fight bad, some don’t comprehend.
King Arthur of old versus the bad ones,
The Chinese army against the Huns.
God the Father faces the devil,
Because Satan decided to rebel.
The Church of God to the anti-christ,
The cat and the owl hunt the good mice.
The good leaders in the world tend to be rare,
But the bad leaders, you see don’t well fare.
Religious leaders who teach for gain,
Principles of old are now in vain.
Maybe we one day will regain what was lost,
If such is to happen, it will be at great cost.
But great cost aside, it has to be now.
Many have tried, but I don’t know how.
Evil knights and sorcerers of old
Have turned into robbers who now are bold.
Instead of dragons we have murderers,
Pollution takes from earth what was hers.
In this world where neighbors aren’t friends,
Companions of late now start to contend.
Feelings of hate and contempt are strong,
We must change, it is so very wrong.
Memory and Happiness
Why do I remember that hike up Rattlesnake
Or that time I crashed the sled?
Rappelling with Joey for the very first time
Or hiking to Devil’s Head?
Going to the store with Jordan
And watching him spew out his dinner?
Taking a ride in the beast of a ‘Burban?
Being the Courage Award winner?
Making a poem to Ford’s friend on the spot
Because she’d had a rough day?
Wandering aimlessly on a weekend
Trying to lose my way?
Why don’t I remember the day of the week
Or how I survived that test
Or what we did in science class
And made it through all the rest?
Why can’t I remember life before
I was stuck in my hospital room?
Trying to improve after surgery
Becoming numb to the maid’s vacuum?
I remember working up to three hundred sit-ups
And taking a ride in the plane.
But I can’t recall when my head was sealed
The stitches and staples that gave so much pain.
I have a dream that I’m free of all pain.
Nothing else has made me cry.
I’ll hold on to my dream for as long as it takes
To tell all my heartache goodbye.
I know why I remember certain things
And forget things that are bad for me.
The truth is that it keeps me alive
For I was meant to be happy.
Or that time I crashed the sled?
Rappelling with Joey for the very first time
Or hiking to Devil’s Head?
Going to the store with Jordan
And watching him spew out his dinner?
Taking a ride in the beast of a ‘Burban?
Being the Courage Award winner?
Making a poem to Ford’s friend on the spot
Because she’d had a rough day?
Wandering aimlessly on a weekend
Trying to lose my way?
Why don’t I remember the day of the week
Or how I survived that test
Or what we did in science class
And made it through all the rest?
Why can’t I remember life before
I was stuck in my hospital room?
Trying to improve after surgery
Becoming numb to the maid’s vacuum?
I remember working up to three hundred sit-ups
And taking a ride in the plane.
But I can’t recall when my head was sealed
The stitches and staples that gave so much pain.
I have a dream that I’m free of all pain.
Nothing else has made me cry.
I’ll hold on to my dream for as long as it takes
To tell all my heartache goodbye.
I know why I remember certain things
And forget things that are bad for me.
The truth is that it keeps me alive
For I was meant to be happy.
Mom's Poem
Before earth was created by the Father of us all,
The Master took a head count, a rather tedious roll call.
He informed each of us what our roll on earth would be.
Each roll, if done correctly, would make mankind more free.
Pointing to the first group, he told them to support the home.
Their calling would be to provide for those they called their own,
To fulfill the job of giving bread and shelter there.
In sickness or in health, they could not leave their cupboards bare.
Others, he assigned as prophets, the priesthood to confer.
And others, He called as teachers to explain His Holy Word.
And so it went on, until every calling was fulfilled.
All things had been done according to the Father’s will.
But then one shouted, “Who will teach our children not to fight?
Who will teach not to quarrel, and always do the right?
The breadwinner needs a counselor, who brings love to the home,
Who comforts every child who feels like they’re alone.”
And God knew it was good, and right, and part of His plan, and so
He asked who could take this duty, to help the children grow
Many took the call, when God asked them that day,
And truly they provide what can’t be given other ways.
And afterward, when that position had been completely filled.
God pondered what to call these ones with such great will.
And because that they were His, and ones like no other
They became most sacred, and now are called upon as mother.
The Master took a head count, a rather tedious roll call.
He informed each of us what our roll on earth would be.
Each roll, if done correctly, would make mankind more free.
Pointing to the first group, he told them to support the home.
Their calling would be to provide for those they called their own,
To fulfill the job of giving bread and shelter there.
In sickness or in health, they could not leave their cupboards bare.
Others, he assigned as prophets, the priesthood to confer.
And others, He called as teachers to explain His Holy Word.
And so it went on, until every calling was fulfilled.
All things had been done according to the Father’s will.
But then one shouted, “Who will teach our children not to fight?
Who will teach not to quarrel, and always do the right?
The breadwinner needs a counselor, who brings love to the home,
Who comforts every child who feels like they’re alone.”
And God knew it was good, and right, and part of His plan, and so
He asked who could take this duty, to help the children grow
Many took the call, when God asked them that day,
And truly they provide what can’t be given other ways.
And afterward, when that position had been completely filled.
God pondered what to call these ones with such great will.
And because that they were His, and ones like no other
They became most sacred, and now are called upon as mother.
My Mother Is Special
My mother is special, as all mothers are.
She gives me advice, which helps me go far.
I love my mother, for she is the one
To help me set goals, and get things done.
She comforts me well in times of need.
Mother’s words are ones to which kids give heed.
She always remembers when you forget.
Her obligations are always met.
She’s good, nice, and always right.
She warns not to get in a fight.
She tells you your hygiene should be high.
Don’t disagree, though you don’t know why.
She wakes me for school when I sleep in
And makes my lunch, my brain is too dim.
She sends me off to catch the bus.
Love is why she makes such a fuss.
I’m glad I have a mother to love,
Though sometimes she’d like to give me a shove.
When my mother is close, I cannot fear.
Thanks Mom! Without you, I wouldn’t be here.
She gives me advice, which helps me go far.
I love my mother, for she is the one
To help me set goals, and get things done.
She comforts me well in times of need.
Mother’s words are ones to which kids give heed.
She always remembers when you forget.
Her obligations are always met.
She’s good, nice, and always right.
She warns not to get in a fight.
She tells you your hygiene should be high.
Don’t disagree, though you don’t know why.
She wakes me for school when I sleep in
And makes my lunch, my brain is too dim.
She sends me off to catch the bus.
Love is why she makes such a fuss.
I’m glad I have a mother to love,
Though sometimes she’d like to give me a shove.
When my mother is close, I cannot fear.
Thanks Mom! Without you, I wouldn’t be here.
Let Me Out
Subdue the beast, lock it down.
Keep it always on the ground.
Forever stopped until they see
Only freedom can tame me.
Clip the tail; hobble wings.
Fear to the floor always clings.
Open the window; let it fly
Or forever shall it cry.
Swallow pain and it will grow
‘Till pain only will it know.
Sail away and never return
Then perhaps they will discern.
Grey and yellow, unknown fever,
Darkest tapestry of the weaver.
Strangers gaze and shake in dread.
Nightmare’s monster fully fed.
Keep it always on the ground.
Forever stopped until they see
Only freedom can tame me.
Clip the tail; hobble wings.
Fear to the floor always clings.
Open the window; let it fly
Or forever shall it cry.
Swallow pain and it will grow
‘Till pain only will it know.
Sail away and never return
Then perhaps they will discern.
Grey and yellow, unknown fever,
Darkest tapestry of the weaver.
Strangers gaze and shake in dread.
Nightmare’s monster fully fed.
Miracle
O do you remember that day long ago
When the women came to the tomb?
They saw the stone that was rolled aside
And found naught but an empty room.
An angel appeared and asked them why
They sought the living among the dead.
“He is not here, but is risen from death
Remember ye not what he said?”
That He would be crucified on the cross
By evil and sinful men.
That three days would pass, and on the Sabbath
He would rise and live again.
The women left and told His apostles
But the men could not understand.
They did not remember what he had said
When he had walked with them on the land.
Mary came to the sepulcher weeping
And saw there two angels in white.
They asked her, “Woman, why weepest thou?”
She saw them in plain sight.
She told them, “They have taken my Lord
And I know not where they have laid Him.”
She saw Jesus then, and thinking him a gardener
“Give me the body of my Lord” she bade him.
“Mary” spoke the Lord, and she knew her Master
Jesus told her to tell his brothers.
And later He came in the midst of them
Though Thomas believed not the others.
“Thomas,” said Jesus, “You see me and now believe
Blessed are those who have not seen, and yet believe.”
When the women came to the tomb?
They saw the stone that was rolled aside
And found naught but an empty room.
An angel appeared and asked them why
They sought the living among the dead.
“He is not here, but is risen from death
Remember ye not what he said?”
That He would be crucified on the cross
By evil and sinful men.
That three days would pass, and on the Sabbath
He would rise and live again.
The women left and told His apostles
But the men could not understand.
They did not remember what he had said
When he had walked with them on the land.
Mary came to the sepulcher weeping
And saw there two angels in white.
They asked her, “Woman, why weepest thou?”
She saw them in plain sight.
She told them, “They have taken my Lord
And I know not where they have laid Him.”
She saw Jesus then, and thinking him a gardener
“Give me the body of my Lord” she bade him.
“Mary” spoke the Lord, and she knew her Master
Jesus told her to tell his brothers.
And later He came in the midst of them
Though Thomas believed not the others.
“Thomas,” said Jesus, “You see me and now believe
Blessed are those who have not seen, and yet believe.”
My Soul
Hay is for horses, slop for the hogs,
Seed for the chickens and bones for the dog,
Carrots for rabbits, cheese for the mice,
Crumbs for the ants and flesh for the lice.
An ecstasy for everyone, their own coveted dish.
Everyone has a dream for food, their own hidden wish.
You’ll see some happy, and some are quite mad.
It depends on their favorite, if they have it they’re glad
There are many great things in this world I could eat.
And many I would call my own wish.
But there is one thing that can never be eaten.
And I have claimed it, uneatable, my dish.
What is uneatable, untouchable, unending that is better
Than satisfying our delicate tastes?
What is ever-changing and elusive
That has the hearts of all the great?
Satchmo, Basie, Oliver, and Parker-
What names could ever top those?
My dish was the favorite of all of these
And with it to the top they rose.
It moves the emotion, it moves the soul,
On every being it takes its toll.
My heart is given to no woman- ‘tis true.
My dish is music, the rhythm- the blues!
As much as I hunger for more tasty foods,
And long for a tangy bite,
My food, my drink, and my nourishment
Is all in the music they write.
From the mouths of slaves it started
As they were brought to serve our land.
Their spirituals bore hard witness
Of Nature’s cold, cruel hand.
Many an arm was broken
Many were the souls who died.
To bring this music to our land
Of poverty and of pride.
And from this sweet, sad music.
There developed a sort of style,
Of an art that glowed with talent
From those with soul and free of guile.
The music still continues on
And has pierced the heart of man.
And whispers of a wondrous sound
That came from another land.
This music is my music.
The blues I take for food.
It gives me what I hunger for.
It determines the day’s mood.
It is food for my stomach.
It weakens Nature’s toll.
It is my strength and vigor.
This music is my soul.
Seed for the chickens and bones for the dog,
Carrots for rabbits, cheese for the mice,
Crumbs for the ants and flesh for the lice.
An ecstasy for everyone, their own coveted dish.
Everyone has a dream for food, their own hidden wish.
You’ll see some happy, and some are quite mad.
It depends on their favorite, if they have it they’re glad
There are many great things in this world I could eat.
And many I would call my own wish.
But there is one thing that can never be eaten.
And I have claimed it, uneatable, my dish.
What is uneatable, untouchable, unending that is better
Than satisfying our delicate tastes?
What is ever-changing and elusive
That has the hearts of all the great?
Satchmo, Basie, Oliver, and Parker-
What names could ever top those?
My dish was the favorite of all of these
And with it to the top they rose.
It moves the emotion, it moves the soul,
On every being it takes its toll.
My heart is given to no woman- ‘tis true.
My dish is music, the rhythm- the blues!
As much as I hunger for more tasty foods,
And long for a tangy bite,
My food, my drink, and my nourishment
Is all in the music they write.
From the mouths of slaves it started
As they were brought to serve our land.
Their spirituals bore hard witness
Of Nature’s cold, cruel hand.
Many an arm was broken
Many were the souls who died.
To bring this music to our land
Of poverty and of pride.
And from this sweet, sad music.
There developed a sort of style,
Of an art that glowed with talent
From those with soul and free of guile.
The music still continues on
And has pierced the heart of man.
And whispers of a wondrous sound
That came from another land.
This music is my music.
The blues I take for food.
It gives me what I hunger for.
It determines the day’s mood.
It is food for my stomach.
It weakens Nature’s toll.
It is my strength and vigor.
This music is my soul.
The Glory Of His Might
Looking out my window to the trees and to the sky,
I see God’s many wonders, my amazement never dies.
The Master Artist always makes His paintings real.
The beauty of it all overflows my cup of zeal.
The trees, grass, fields and hills- so wondrous to behold.
This artistry is perfect, too priceless to be sold.
His greatest creation, by far the best, the giants of His might,
The mountains- O what a glorious, gorgeous thing to sight!
I wonder how many colors it took, for many had He to bring.
Of the mountains’ height and beauty, my feelings truly sing.
To make something living, so tangible, so true,
I feel that He is saying, “Here’s my gift to you.”
What better way to love, than to enjoy this workmanship?
From the chalice of His glory, He beckons us to sip.
It’s an honor to explore these giants that He made.
Partake of the visual banquet, before man makes it fade.
By going up a mountain, and staying for awhile,
We cause the Master Painter to pause a bit and smile.
As he looks down upon me, while I am in his might,
I will ever follow the Master who is always, always right.
I see God’s many wonders, my amazement never dies.
The Master Artist always makes His paintings real.
The beauty of it all overflows my cup of zeal.
The trees, grass, fields and hills- so wondrous to behold.
This artistry is perfect, too priceless to be sold.
His greatest creation, by far the best, the giants of His might,
The mountains- O what a glorious, gorgeous thing to sight!
I wonder how many colors it took, for many had He to bring.
Of the mountains’ height and beauty, my feelings truly sing.
To make something living, so tangible, so true,
I feel that He is saying, “Here’s my gift to you.”
What better way to love, than to enjoy this workmanship?
From the chalice of His glory, He beckons us to sip.
It’s an honor to explore these giants that He made.
Partake of the visual banquet, before man makes it fade.
By going up a mountain, and staying for awhile,
We cause the Master Painter to pause a bit and smile.
As he looks down upon me, while I am in his might,
I will ever follow the Master who is always, always right.
About You
Twenty-four karats, a gold diamond ring.
Twenty-four carrots on horseback to bring.
Twenty-four carrots I picked just for you.
Twenty-four diamonds refined equal you.
Twenty-four divided by a total of eight,
Gives the diamond ring its total weight.
The golden ring’s weight as one equals three.
Three is my number; it is lucky for me.
But what is your number- I’d love to know.
Is it possible to give; is it possible to show?
I must be informed- you must tell me why
I find your number is high as the sky.
What is your number, dearest one, may I see?
This poem’s for you, straight back from me.
So give me your number, for show and for tell.
Cure me of troubles, make everything well.
Twenty-four carrots on horseback to bring.
Twenty-four carrots I picked just for you.
Twenty-four diamonds refined equal you.
Twenty-four divided by a total of eight,
Gives the diamond ring its total weight.
The golden ring’s weight as one equals three.
Three is my number; it is lucky for me.
But what is your number- I’d love to know.
Is it possible to give; is it possible to show?
I must be informed- you must tell me why
I find your number is high as the sky.
What is your number, dearest one, may I see?
This poem’s for you, straight back from me.
So give me your number, for show and for tell.
Cure me of troubles, make everything well.
Baby
The baby is living, the baby is born.
So beautiful, though no jewelry adorn.
Love and emotion upon the babe heaped,
Like a warm blanket within its embrace to keep.
Years pass, the babe grows up tall.
Learning from anguish, getting up from each fall.
Seeing the good in too many a thing;
Impossible to choose which beauty to sing.
What good is the mountain with no soul to gaze
On each blessed thing God Himself caused to raise?
So beautiful, though no jewelry adorn.
Love and emotion upon the babe heaped,
Like a warm blanket within its embrace to keep.
Years pass, the babe grows up tall.
Learning from anguish, getting up from each fall.
Seeing the good in too many a thing;
Impossible to choose which beauty to sing.
What good is the mountain with no soul to gaze
On each blessed thing God Himself caused to raise?
Friday, August 20, 2010
Let It Fly
I want to sing
Let my soul out to shine
Gathered together with all that is mine
Let it all out
To be free and to soar
Unending spirit expanding evermore
They say there is
Opposition in all things
One who takes is one who brings
But hard as it can be
To let out all my soul
It’s easy when feeling the rock and the roll!
Let my soul out to shine
Gathered together with all that is mine
Let it all out
To be free and to soar
Unending spirit expanding evermore
They say there is
Opposition in all things
One who takes is one who brings
But hard as it can be
To let out all my soul
It’s easy when feeling the rock and the roll!
Life
Life is a room that starts dark and cold
Doors every which way, some new and some old
Behind each a different trail, a path to success
Some bring more greatness, and others, less
Life is a precipice, with one way to go
The jump is an ending of all things you know
No taste in food and no smell in pine
Death in quiet, your eyes have gone blind
The mountains taste of honey on bread, rye and warm
You see the smell of skin, there’s no harm
I am a rock, hard, stiff and cold
Flimsy as a cart, one hundred years old
Supercalifrajilisticescpialidocious
Similar to me, atrocious
Because I am so normal, walking in my way
“Born of goodly parents”, I do just what they say
The sour bread of trials, though not tasty for me
Will build Jello-like castles, bringing warmth and glee
I breathe in pollution, and breath out holy air
The Head makes music, great jazzy fare
Slice will be rich and famous, and yet be humble too
Humility brings him pride and money- it’s true
I cannot help but proclaim, in only Slice's way
Palabra a tu madre, you piece of bright cold flame
The bluish sky laughed as the sun belched a cry
And said in fiendish humor, “I shall make you die!”
Doors every which way, some new and some old
Behind each a different trail, a path to success
Some bring more greatness, and others, less
Life is a precipice, with one way to go
The jump is an ending of all things you know
No taste in food and no smell in pine
Death in quiet, your eyes have gone blind
The mountains taste of honey on bread, rye and warm
You see the smell of skin, there’s no harm
I am a rock, hard, stiff and cold
Flimsy as a cart, one hundred years old
Supercalifrajilisticescpialidocious
Similar to me, atrocious
Because I am so normal, walking in my way
“Born of goodly parents”, I do just what they say
The sour bread of trials, though not tasty for me
Will build Jello-like castles, bringing warmth and glee
I breathe in pollution, and breath out holy air
The Head makes music, great jazzy fare
Slice will be rich and famous, and yet be humble too
Humility brings him pride and money- it’s true
I cannot help but proclaim, in only Slice's way
Palabra a tu madre, you piece of bright cold flame
The bluish sky laughed as the sun belched a cry
And said in fiendish humor, “I shall make you die!”
The Orange Slice
Peeling the fruit for the juiciness inside,
Gathering goodness in bowls set aside.
Filled with life poured down in showers.
Hot juice seeping in pores over hours.
Fruit bathing; it’s better for you by far.
For fruit is life, it is fuel for your car.
Immersing oneself in pure energy’s color.
Heaven surrounded in one another.
Gathering goodness in bowls set aside.
Filled with life poured down in showers.
Hot juice seeping in pores over hours.
Fruit bathing; it’s better for you by far.
For fruit is life, it is fuel for your car.
Immersing oneself in pure energy’s color.
Heaven surrounded in one another.
The J.L. Peno
Green and smooth with seeds inside
A stem with which to hold
A startling bite of fire makes its taste the boldest of bold
Perhaps the color is what makes me grin
Or its fiery, eye-watering crunch
That jalapeno adds the zest to an otherwise boring lunch
Try it in salads for your guest’s surprise
Or breaded with a cream cheese fill
Set those babies out to cool- not one will steal off your sill
It takes pure fortitude and a deep breath
A pause and a mighty gulp
That little green devil clears you out and reduces your stomach to pulp
And yet I will give out my money
To have them in my subs
That combo of meatball, bread, and cheese is one of my greatest loves
Long live the J.L. Peno
May it forever burn the tongue
I salute the J.L. Peno
It cleans out throat and lung
A stem with which to hold
A startling bite of fire makes its taste the boldest of bold
Perhaps the color is what makes me grin
Or its fiery, eye-watering crunch
That jalapeno adds the zest to an otherwise boring lunch
Try it in salads for your guest’s surprise
Or breaded with a cream cheese fill
Set those babies out to cool- not one will steal off your sill
It takes pure fortitude and a deep breath
A pause and a mighty gulp
That little green devil clears you out and reduces your stomach to pulp
And yet I will give out my money
To have them in my subs
That combo of meatball, bread, and cheese is one of my greatest loves
Long live the J.L. Peno
May it forever burn the tongue
I salute the J.L. Peno
It cleans out throat and lung
The Island
What makes the skies so blue?
What makes the grass so green?
What makes fruit so sweet?
And at other times so tart
What makes a girl’s eyes so soft
And the loveliness look so strong?
Why do opposites attract and thrive
Strong and yet supple- dark and so bright
Without opposition there would be no strength
Without heaven there would be no hell
Without hate there could be no love
Without heat, no place for cold
Without despair there could be no hope
Without cowardice there could be no courage
Without death there is no birth
With no shell to push against, the chick would surely die
What makes the pain endurable?
-The hope for soon relief
What makes white so bright?
-The darkness, still and deep
Why is the island still alive?
-I do not know, but I respect the island
What makes the grass so green?
What makes fruit so sweet?
And at other times so tart
What makes a girl’s eyes so soft
And the loveliness look so strong?
Why do opposites attract and thrive
Strong and yet supple- dark and so bright
Without opposition there would be no strength
Without heaven there would be no hell
Without hate there could be no love
Without heat, no place for cold
Without despair there could be no hope
Without cowardice there could be no courage
Without death there is no birth
With no shell to push against, the chick would surely die
What makes the pain endurable?
-The hope for soon relief
What makes white so bright?
-The darkness, still and deep
Why is the island still alive?
-I do not know, but I respect the island
The Paper Man
He walks down the streets in a tattered old jacket,
Swinging his goods to house after house.
The people don’t see him; he’s invisible to their eyes.
Their egos are brainwashed as they sit on the couch.
He quietly patters the streets in old jeans,
Bringing them news of the world of high dreams.
His goods are common, yet many take often.
His clothes are tattered, pulling apart at the seams.
He sees a bird fly over the trees
And watches a leaf tumbled over by the wind.
He sighs in contentment, for nature is right.
It’s the little things of peace that give true delight.
His goods are common, and thus pay very little,
But money isn’t what he wants after all.
These things that clutter put many in the gutter.
But when content on the ground, there’s not far to fall.
He has many memories; in that sense he is rich.
Others gather in goods that won’t be remembered,
Things that corrode and darken in the ditch.
His possessions are endless- the feelings they render.
And so as the world hastens past, in search of false dreams,
He gathers his treasures, in quiet content.
And though it’s not long ‘till on a staff he will lean,
His smile- his happiness- for others also was it meant…
Swinging his goods to house after house.
The people don’t see him; he’s invisible to their eyes.
Their egos are brainwashed as they sit on the couch.
He quietly patters the streets in old jeans,
Bringing them news of the world of high dreams.
His goods are common, yet many take often.
His clothes are tattered, pulling apart at the seams.
He sees a bird fly over the trees
And watches a leaf tumbled over by the wind.
He sighs in contentment, for nature is right.
It’s the little things of peace that give true delight.
His goods are common, and thus pay very little,
But money isn’t what he wants after all.
These things that clutter put many in the gutter.
But when content on the ground, there’s not far to fall.
He has many memories; in that sense he is rich.
Others gather in goods that won’t be remembered,
Things that corrode and darken in the ditch.
His possessions are endless- the feelings they render.
And so as the world hastens past, in search of false dreams,
He gathers his treasures, in quiet content.
And though it’s not long ‘till on a staff he will lean,
His smile- his happiness- for others also was it meant…
Intangible Invincibility
As a poet and musician
I think of things not thought.
The strength
Which seems to come from Nowhere,
The worth of things not bought.
I’ve heard of all those stories
Most will say cannot be true:
The babe
Who outlasted all the rest,
The broken bird that flew!
I know not how the underdog won,
For he ‘didn’t have a chance’,
The giant
Who was overcome
By one small, courageous ant.
I think of things not thought.
The strength
Which seems to come from Nowhere,
The worth of things not bought.
I’ve heard of all those stories
Most will say cannot be true:
The babe
Who outlasted all the rest,
The broken bird that flew!
I know not how the underdog won,
For he ‘didn’t have a chance’,
The giant
Who was overcome
By one small, courageous ant.
It Is
What did I reap, and what did I sow,
When I was this soul without letting you know?
Behind the scenes, the words, and the mask,
I’d have shown you it all if you had only asked.
I am not what I seem; I rarely show all my colors.
Many things have been shown, incomplete, to all others.
My walls were defenseless only around you.
You had many a chance, I was bared before you.
There wasn’t a glance, by her with the keys.
I watched through the keyhole, upon my sore knees.
She could have freed me from my cage of fear.
She had looked once or twice, but didn’t come near.
Can she even see me? -Does she know I am in pain?
Is it my fault I’m not seen through her lane?
Does my mask to stop others blind her as well?
Is it I who stand guard at my own prison cell?
When I was this soul without letting you know?
Behind the scenes, the words, and the mask,
I’d have shown you it all if you had only asked.
I am not what I seem; I rarely show all my colors.
Many things have been shown, incomplete, to all others.
My walls were defenseless only around you.
You had many a chance, I was bared before you.
There wasn’t a glance, by her with the keys.
I watched through the keyhole, upon my sore knees.
She could have freed me from my cage of fear.
She had looked once or twice, but didn’t come near.
Can she even see me? -Does she know I am in pain?
Is it my fault I’m not seen through her lane?
Does my mask to stop others blind her as well?
Is it I who stand guard at my own prison cell?
Fearless Hero
When David faced Goliath,
The child and the giant;
The crowd roared approval of
This infant so defiant.
When Jack climbed the beanstalk
And braved the fearless tyrant,
All to feed his family,
Bare cupboard and water silent.
Aragorn, not respected,
Faced alone the horde of foes;
Unknown king with power hidden,
To relieve all mankind’s woes.
Arm of climber trapped beneath,
Severed, saved the life,
Though he had to bear the pain,
A dull, unsharpened knife.
A lone believer bears
The heedless mockery of the mob.
The shunned child lives to fight,
And fights to live, but never sob.
Son of the Superseyan,
Though through mounds of rock was hurled,
Defeated Zell and evil,
And so doing saved the world.
The child and the giant;
The crowd roared approval of
This infant so defiant.
When Jack climbed the beanstalk
And braved the fearless tyrant,
All to feed his family,
Bare cupboard and water silent.
Aragorn, not respected,
Faced alone the horde of foes;
Unknown king with power hidden,
To relieve all mankind’s woes.
Arm of climber trapped beneath,
Severed, saved the life,
Though he had to bear the pain,
A dull, unsharpened knife.
A lone believer bears
The heedless mockery of the mob.
The shunned child lives to fight,
And fights to live, but never sob.
Son of the Superseyan,
Though through mounds of rock was hurled,
Defeated Zell and evil,
And so doing saved the world.
Freedom
It could not give root; it could not grow;
The seed inside that none yet know,
But if it’s found, and put in good ground,
It may live to make its own sweet sound.
Beaten, carved up, stumbling path,
Taking all its makers wrath.
Wishing to cry unshed tears.
Much too hard to let go of fears.
Let it out and it may find
Some sweet music to calm the mind.
But shackled, it may help to fuel
Destruction of a priceless jewel.
Take the shell; remove the crust.
Inside be the pearl; free it you must.
This pearl is special, for it has no twin.
Still it be chained, deep within.
The seed inside that none yet know,
But if it’s found, and put in good ground,
It may live to make its own sweet sound.
Beaten, carved up, stumbling path,
Taking all its makers wrath.
Wishing to cry unshed tears.
Much too hard to let go of fears.
Let it out and it may find
Some sweet music to calm the mind.
But shackled, it may help to fuel
Destruction of a priceless jewel.
Take the shell; remove the crust.
Inside be the pearl; free it you must.
This pearl is special, for it has no twin.
Still it be chained, deep within.
Friends
He smiled and laughed as the children beamed.
They were glad of the presents he gave them, it seemed.
They romped and played with him in the fields,
And jumped on the truck, the truck with old wheels.
Another summer, another year has gone by.
The children come less, though he doesn’t know why.
They do not have time for the old games he played.
Their visits are short, their arrivals delayed.
Each year they come less, until hardly at all.
He is found in his room, his one friend- the gray wall.
This year he waited, he is waiting quietly still.
They forget- he is sad, and has become very ill.
His life is wasted, his jewels are gone.
The elderly call for him won’t be long.
He starts down the road to find the way
To the shelter, where he’ll be to the end of his days.
A dog, down the same road, has been shunned from his home,
By the ones he protected, who he called his own.
He’s served and loved and stayed by their side.
And now is rejected, in none to confide.
Bruised and battered, weak from hunger,
Needful of the roof he was once welcomed under,
Cold and wet from Nature’s cruel hand-
His pains are many, too great a demand.
He limps down the road, each step is a labor.
A breath brings him anguish, sharp as a saber.
Life seems empty, with no one to love.
Blue skies are gray, no sunshine above.
And so the outcasts toward each other go,
Seeing life as a waste; the earth a great foe.
Both gave for nothing, and showed their good will.
Of the earth and its kind, they’ve had their fill.
The old man looks up and sees the poor dog,
Who is lain on the ground, broken and robbed.
The dog, who has fallen, void of warmth and love,
Looks tiredly up at the kind face above.
The old man helps him, and raises him to stand,
And pats his head, the dog licks his hand.
Broken hearts are mended, together they go home.
And never again will they feel all alone.
They were glad of the presents he gave them, it seemed.
They romped and played with him in the fields,
And jumped on the truck, the truck with old wheels.
Another summer, another year has gone by.
The children come less, though he doesn’t know why.
They do not have time for the old games he played.
Their visits are short, their arrivals delayed.
Each year they come less, until hardly at all.
He is found in his room, his one friend- the gray wall.
This year he waited, he is waiting quietly still.
They forget- he is sad, and has become very ill.
His life is wasted, his jewels are gone.
The elderly call for him won’t be long.
He starts down the road to find the way
To the shelter, where he’ll be to the end of his days.
A dog, down the same road, has been shunned from his home,
By the ones he protected, who he called his own.
He’s served and loved and stayed by their side.
And now is rejected, in none to confide.
Bruised and battered, weak from hunger,
Needful of the roof he was once welcomed under,
Cold and wet from Nature’s cruel hand-
His pains are many, too great a demand.
He limps down the road, each step is a labor.
A breath brings him anguish, sharp as a saber.
Life seems empty, with no one to love.
Blue skies are gray, no sunshine above.
And so the outcasts toward each other go,
Seeing life as a waste; the earth a great foe.
Both gave for nothing, and showed their good will.
Of the earth and its kind, they’ve had their fill.
The old man looks up and sees the poor dog,
Who is lain on the ground, broken and robbed.
The dog, who has fallen, void of warmth and love,
Looks tiredly up at the kind face above.
The old man helps him, and raises him to stand,
And pats his head, the dog licks his hand.
Broken hearts are mended, together they go home.
And never again will they feel all alone.
Thankfulness
Who has been there always,
Who’s been there for me,
When trials were so very sore
All strength inside would flee?
If not for all the souls
Who have helped me on my way,
I would not be a tithe of
The person I am today.
There are hundreds who have helped,
More than I can count,
But every little helping hand
Becomes a great amount.
Just as many little problems
Together make a pile,
Every act of service performed
Can build into a smile.
And every smile truly earned
Can remove some of the load.
In giving unto others,
Can we not smooth out their road?
The greatest way to thank someone
For what they did for me,
Is in passing on the service
And helping someone else for free.
To follow the Savior’s example,
To do what He has done,
A single act of goodness
Passing on helps everyone.
Who’s been there for me,
When trials were so very sore
All strength inside would flee?
If not for all the souls
Who have helped me on my way,
I would not be a tithe of
The person I am today.
There are hundreds who have helped,
More than I can count,
But every little helping hand
Becomes a great amount.
Just as many little problems
Together make a pile,
Every act of service performed
Can build into a smile.
And every smile truly earned
Can remove some of the load.
In giving unto others,
Can we not smooth out their road?
The greatest way to thank someone
For what they did for me,
Is in passing on the service
And helping someone else for free.
To follow the Savior’s example,
To do what He has done,
A single act of goodness
Passing on helps everyone.
Talents
We each had skills to work on, before we came to earth;
Potential to develop into talents of great worth.
Each and every talent, the better with to serve,
To help each other in this life overcome the learning curve.
For every one has purpose, everyone we need,
If in this life through all the strife, we’re hoping to succeed.
Not one has ever made it that had no helping hand.
Two cripples who grasp each other can, together, stand.
You and I are cripples, though we do not use a staff.
Together we are tripled; apart we’re cut in half.
Weak means strength divided; love can heal the breach.
Growth will always happen when against the pull we teach.
Infants do not grow if they’re never let to move.
Never going anywhere, like pebbles in a groove.
In our daily struggles, uncut diamonds shine within.
Those now-uncovered talents’ growth can, at last, begin.
None of us can fully see how far we then can go.
Why not keep on going to see how much we grow?
Potential to develop into talents of great worth.
Each and every talent, the better with to serve,
To help each other in this life overcome the learning curve.
For every one has purpose, everyone we need,
If in this life through all the strife, we’re hoping to succeed.
Not one has ever made it that had no helping hand.
Two cripples who grasp each other can, together, stand.
You and I are cripples, though we do not use a staff.
Together we are tripled; apart we’re cut in half.
Weak means strength divided; love can heal the breach.
Growth will always happen when against the pull we teach.
Infants do not grow if they’re never let to move.
Never going anywhere, like pebbles in a groove.
In our daily struggles, uncut diamonds shine within.
Those now-uncovered talents’ growth can, at last, begin.
None of us can fully see how far we then can go.
Why not keep on going to see how much we grow?
Life Goes On
If I could hang a motto in every home in all the world,
A motto that when pondered would make life’s mysteries unfurl,
There’s one motto I always quote, of which I have grown fond.
When people whine or complain, I’d say, “Remember, life goes on.”
I believe this motto’s the best, for more reasons than one.
If you remembered this motto, I bet your life would be more fun.
It has kept me cheerful, when my life has seemed real blue,
And allowed many laughs to surface, and smiles not a few.
It will keep your determination high, and goals come anew.
Besides, doctors always say that depression isn’t good for you.
They say that it feeds any diseases that you may possess,
And creates new ones, your strength gets less and less.
You try and fix your problems with shots or maybe pills,
Hoping that you will rediscover some of your previous thrills.
Maybe it’s the food you eat or perhaps polluted air,
But don’t you see, all those commercials have made you unaware.
It’s always in your attitude, in how you view your life,
And how you take the struggles and handle all the strife.
You need to make yourself happy, it might take quite a con,
But no matter what, when things go wrong say,
“Remember, life goes on!”
A motto that when pondered would make life’s mysteries unfurl,
There’s one motto I always quote, of which I have grown fond.
When people whine or complain, I’d say, “Remember, life goes on.”
I believe this motto’s the best, for more reasons than one.
If you remembered this motto, I bet your life would be more fun.
It has kept me cheerful, when my life has seemed real blue,
And allowed many laughs to surface, and smiles not a few.
It will keep your determination high, and goals come anew.
Besides, doctors always say that depression isn’t good for you.
They say that it feeds any diseases that you may possess,
And creates new ones, your strength gets less and less.
You try and fix your problems with shots or maybe pills,
Hoping that you will rediscover some of your previous thrills.
Maybe it’s the food you eat or perhaps polluted air,
But don’t you see, all those commercials have made you unaware.
It’s always in your attitude, in how you view your life,
And how you take the struggles and handle all the strife.
You need to make yourself happy, it might take quite a con,
But no matter what, when things go wrong say,
“Remember, life goes on!”
What Makes You Fly
I’ve been to many places; I’ve seen strange things,
And with all that I’ve been through,
I know how to make wings.
What is it that frees you, what can make you fly?
Every step that brings you closer
To that freedom in the sky.
I understand why some fight against the hunter’s goal.
It can seem a terrible crime
To destroy the flight of soul.
It took guts and courage, it took inner strength,
For the feathered infant’s span
To become a strong, firm length.
Tis not the finished product that shows one’s inner sight.
The hardship and the stumbles are
What helped that bird to flight.
I know not what your mountains held for you whilst you crawled on.
But without all that crawling
Your limbs would not be so strong.
I don’t care what others think of you, I see in you true steel.
Their colors are in the clothes they wear,
But your insides can feel.
And with all that I’ve been through,
I know how to make wings.
What is it that frees you, what can make you fly?
Every step that brings you closer
To that freedom in the sky.
I understand why some fight against the hunter’s goal.
It can seem a terrible crime
To destroy the flight of soul.
It took guts and courage, it took inner strength,
For the feathered infant’s span
To become a strong, firm length.
Tis not the finished product that shows one’s inner sight.
The hardship and the stumbles are
What helped that bird to flight.
I know not what your mountains held for you whilst you crawled on.
But without all that crawling
Your limbs would not be so strong.
I don’t care what others think of you, I see in you true steel.
Their colors are in the clothes they wear,
But your insides can feel.
What is and is Not Seen
The waves on top of the ocean- all the eye can see
Conceals the many wonders and horrors beneath them be.
Storms along the surface, tranquility deep below.
Of miracles and possibilities, those deep inside could show.
The tip of the hidden iceberg; to us it may seem huge,
But ninety-nine percent of it below surface takes refuge.
You cannot judge a masterpiece by only what is shown
The Maker of it only can of its priceless-ness know.
Shirts and pants to cover up what we don’t want there.
Excuses that we’re modest, but our bodies we can’t share.
Eden was all bare, because they both were pure.
We wear clothes because our purity did not endure.
I wish so badly that I could openly share my soul.
I’d let my shielded protection down and of my heart you’d know.
Why does it make you frightened to see that which is true?
I’ve risked my entire existence, my whole security on you.
Yet it’s worth all pain, all heartache, each wound received- to give!
He who’s never felt to die… does he ever truly live?
Conceals the many wonders and horrors beneath them be.
Storms along the surface, tranquility deep below.
Of miracles and possibilities, those deep inside could show.
The tip of the hidden iceberg; to us it may seem huge,
But ninety-nine percent of it below surface takes refuge.
You cannot judge a masterpiece by only what is shown
The Maker of it only can of its priceless-ness know.
Shirts and pants to cover up what we don’t want there.
Excuses that we’re modest, but our bodies we can’t share.
Eden was all bare, because they both were pure.
We wear clothes because our purity did not endure.
I wish so badly that I could openly share my soul.
I’d let my shielded protection down and of my heart you’d know.
Why does it make you frightened to see that which is true?
I’ve risked my entire existence, my whole security on you.
Yet it’s worth all pain, all heartache, each wound received- to give!
He who’s never felt to die… does he ever truly live?
To Stone a Heart
So many people sharing their heart,
So many looking for love.
So many broken, embittered stones
Giving up on that light above.
Stones that once were infant hearts
Broken far too soon.
Shattered pieces,
Across the battlefield of love
Are strewn.
A heart that had so much to give,
Wounded past its strength, and then,
Turned to rock,
Never to yield, be hurt, or feel again.
‘If this is what it means to love: to live in agony,
I do not want to feel at all,
Or let anyone close to me!
Unyielding walls I will build
As my impenetrable shields-
Never will I feel again,
Never kicked, or cut, or heeled.’
And one by one, across that field,
Hearts are turned to stone,
As they reject the price of love,
To roll on, and on, alone.
Each stone that rolls, once turned so hard,
Will strike on those still soft.
Those hearts will then each turn to stone,
Blind to that love aloft.
So very many perfect hearts
Whose love is now entombed:
Why could they not have clenched their teeth,
Been strong, and cleaned their wound?
I was the one cut into my heart;
My hand ever wields the blade.
Would that I’d not turned and fled,
But faced my wound, and stayed.
For if I’d not given heed to fear,
But turned, and borne, and stayed,
My sorrows would in time have healed,
My soul would not be flayed.
My wounds, scabbed over but never cleaned,
Will fester ever sore.
Infected and untreated,
It has been poisoned so much more.
Yet even now, though greater pain,
Awaits at End than Start,
The strength still lies within- I can detoxify my heart!
For all the stone and all the rock
Is really nothing more
Than fear, and hate, and grudges,
Over time built up in store.
If each of these has helped to poison deep
A once-clean soul,
Then faith and hope will build a bridge
To span the depths and make it whole!
So many looking for love.
So many broken, embittered stones
Giving up on that light above.
Stones that once were infant hearts
Broken far too soon.
Shattered pieces,
Across the battlefield of love
Are strewn.
A heart that had so much to give,
Wounded past its strength, and then,
Turned to rock,
Never to yield, be hurt, or feel again.
‘If this is what it means to love: to live in agony,
I do not want to feel at all,
Or let anyone close to me!
Unyielding walls I will build
As my impenetrable shields-
Never will I feel again,
Never kicked, or cut, or heeled.’
And one by one, across that field,
Hearts are turned to stone,
As they reject the price of love,
To roll on, and on, alone.
Each stone that rolls, once turned so hard,
Will strike on those still soft.
Those hearts will then each turn to stone,
Blind to that love aloft.
So very many perfect hearts
Whose love is now entombed:
Why could they not have clenched their teeth,
Been strong, and cleaned their wound?
I was the one cut into my heart;
My hand ever wields the blade.
Would that I’d not turned and fled,
But faced my wound, and stayed.
For if I’d not given heed to fear,
But turned, and borne, and stayed,
My sorrows would in time have healed,
My soul would not be flayed.
My wounds, scabbed over but never cleaned,
Will fester ever sore.
Infected and untreated,
It has been poisoned so much more.
Yet even now, though greater pain,
Awaits at End than Start,
The strength still lies within- I can detoxify my heart!
For all the stone and all the rock
Is really nothing more
Than fear, and hate, and grudges,
Over time built up in store.
If each of these has helped to poison deep
A once-clean soul,
Then faith and hope will build a bridge
To span the depths and make it whole!
The Worth of Trash
Alien child, where are you from?
So different, so strange
What do you think of
When others show you a toy, a spoon,
A spool of thread?
I see, he says, a city
Where all
Is perfectly imperfect
They use things and then
Throw them away
They’ll never be used again, and so are
Thought of as waste
He whispers, with that Can they use
For throwing things away
I could start a band
From that pile of trash
I could recycle enough
To feed people who are hungry
Why don’t you do that, I ask
With all the things that are wrong
In this world, you could make
Something right
Because, he says, it only goes well
For a Little
People give when they see others giving
Once the giver is gone
Their good things Disappear
And they end their lives as they began them
Without motion or motivation
Help them, I say to him
They must learn to help themselves, he replies,
Then this world will not be perfectly imperfect.
It will be imperfectly perfect
So different, so strange
What do you think of
When others show you a toy, a spoon,
A spool of thread?
I see, he says, a city
Where all
Is perfectly imperfect
They use things and then
Throw them away
They’ll never be used again, and so are
Thought of as waste
He whispers, with that Can they use
For throwing things away
I could start a band
From that pile of trash
I could recycle enough
To feed people who are hungry
Why don’t you do that, I ask
With all the things that are wrong
In this world, you could make
Something right
Because, he says, it only goes well
For a Little
People give when they see others giving
Once the giver is gone
Their good things Disappear
And they end their lives as they began them
Without motion or motivation
Help them, I say to him
They must learn to help themselves, he replies,
Then this world will not be perfectly imperfect.
It will be imperfectly perfect
Thursday, August 19, 2010
A Home Filled With Love
By building a home filled with love,
What happens? What treasure is made?
-A wondrous upward journey,
Upon living light, is stayed!
Thousands who have gone before,
Showing joy that will be had,
By building a home filled with love
Through both the good and bad.
There is no gold so pure, no earthly wealth
As great as this:
To walk the pathway back to God
With hearts as one with His.
What miracle cannot be seen
With His spirit in our home?
A home thus filled with love
Will draw us back where e’er we roam.
Four hands, two hearts, two lives, made one
By living priesthood power
Will hold this ‘Two Made One’
On the pathway every hour.
Such light, such joy, such strength
Grows, supported from above.
We build heaven as we build
A home filled with love.
What happens? What treasure is made?
-A wondrous upward journey,
Upon living light, is stayed!
Thousands who have gone before,
Showing joy that will be had,
By building a home filled with love
Through both the good and bad.
There is no gold so pure, no earthly wealth
As great as this:
To walk the pathway back to God
With hearts as one with His.
What miracle cannot be seen
With His spirit in our home?
A home thus filled with love
Will draw us back where e’er we roam.
Four hands, two hearts, two lives, made one
By living priesthood power
Will hold this ‘Two Made One’
On the pathway every hour.
Such light, such joy, such strength
Grows, supported from above.
We build heaven as we build
A home filled with love.
We Go Bump
Kangaroos have springs and pouches, camels have a hump,
But humans have to hit their head if they want to grow a bump.
Deer and elk can jump a fence, not difficult at all,
But humans, if unpracticed, try too hard and take a fall.
‘Tis true, many of us can run for miles in one go.
But running gets much harder when it’s through the ice and snow.
Add twenty to fifty pounds on your back to make it fun,
Then book it down a mountain in an all-out crazy run.
It’s hard enough for me to walk and still remain upright,
But three of us all in a line? - A quite ungainly sight!
First a trot and then a jog which built up to a run.
Momentum upward, we shot down the hill like from a gun.
Justin leading and I behind, Brandon held up the rear.
Going too fast! We’re gonna crash! Trouble! Panic! Fear!
Too steep to slow, too fast to stop, we fly on just as free.
A log, a drop, yet he can’t stop, he tries to jump the tree!
Inertia, imbalance, a foot snags wood, friend Justin is airborne.
He hits the dirt; both hat and pack from him are torn.
Feeling disaster coming, I leap over, all spread out.
A mud puddle! I can’t stop myself! I give a panicked shout.
I land and skid on my foot’s edge as I, too, lose my hat.
Spread- eagled into the mud I go, ‘Help me! Ahhhh!’ Splat!
Brandon trots right up; he had known he should slow down.
He looks down at the two of us, tilts his head and frowns.
‘Did you ever learn how to run a trail, you clowns?’
Fifteen minutes later, I knock on our kitchen door.
I know not to just walk in- I’ll mess up mom’s clean floor.
She walks over from her cooking, looks, and then her jaw drops.
‘What happened?’ she says. ‘You’re covered in mud and I just mopped!’
I look myself over, she’s right, I have a different kind of tan.
‘Mom, I’m sorry, but I went bump because I ran…’
But humans have to hit their head if they want to grow a bump.
Deer and elk can jump a fence, not difficult at all,
But humans, if unpracticed, try too hard and take a fall.
‘Tis true, many of us can run for miles in one go.
But running gets much harder when it’s through the ice and snow.
Add twenty to fifty pounds on your back to make it fun,
Then book it down a mountain in an all-out crazy run.
It’s hard enough for me to walk and still remain upright,
But three of us all in a line? - A quite ungainly sight!
First a trot and then a jog which built up to a run.
Momentum upward, we shot down the hill like from a gun.
Justin leading and I behind, Brandon held up the rear.
Going too fast! We’re gonna crash! Trouble! Panic! Fear!
Too steep to slow, too fast to stop, we fly on just as free.
A log, a drop, yet he can’t stop, he tries to jump the tree!
Inertia, imbalance, a foot snags wood, friend Justin is airborne.
He hits the dirt; both hat and pack from him are torn.
Feeling disaster coming, I leap over, all spread out.
A mud puddle! I can’t stop myself! I give a panicked shout.
I land and skid on my foot’s edge as I, too, lose my hat.
Spread- eagled into the mud I go, ‘Help me! Ahhhh!’ Splat!
Brandon trots right up; he had known he should slow down.
He looks down at the two of us, tilts his head and frowns.
‘Did you ever learn how to run a trail, you clowns?’
Fifteen minutes later, I knock on our kitchen door.
I know not to just walk in- I’ll mess up mom’s clean floor.
She walks over from her cooking, looks, and then her jaw drops.
‘What happened?’ she says. ‘You’re covered in mud and I just mopped!’
I look myself over, she’s right, I have a different kind of tan.
‘Mom, I’m sorry, but I went bump because I ran…’
Hoop Shnoop D-Boop
A man named Stan ran away from his Gran.
She wanted to feed him stale bread.
He flew to the new downtown BBQ.
On gourmet new stew he was fed.
A shop called Top was run by a cop,
Tickets given for cutting in line.
A shoe shiner shined shoes for many a penny.
The diner served wine or chilled tea for a fine.
A new coup with a loop came with fresh soup.
Veggie, potato, and beef.
The waiter with lip was given no tip.
He promised he’d turn a new leaf.
The man named Stan after eating he ran,
To get his shoes shined by the shiner.
His Gran, named Fran, took her big frying pan,
And bopped in the shop the fop cop called Top.
The masses of lasses with glasses made passes.
Watching the chaos grow.
They drove in the coup with a loop eating soup,
After all, who could miss the great show?
She wanted to feed him stale bread.
He flew to the new downtown BBQ.
On gourmet new stew he was fed.
A shop called Top was run by a cop,
Tickets given for cutting in line.
A shoe shiner shined shoes for many a penny.
The diner served wine or chilled tea for a fine.
A new coup with a loop came with fresh soup.
Veggie, potato, and beef.
The waiter with lip was given no tip.
He promised he’d turn a new leaf.
The man named Stan after eating he ran,
To get his shoes shined by the shiner.
His Gran, named Fran, took her big frying pan,
And bopped in the shop the fop cop called Top.
The masses of lasses with glasses made passes.
Watching the chaos grow.
They drove in the coup with a loop eating soup,
After all, who could miss the great show?
Adam Apple Hungry Campbell Soup Slice Man
I know a man who’s really cool, a man of many names,
And one day when he grows so old, he’ll have lots of fame.
His many names combine to form a very awesome word.
It’s been going round for quite some time, I’m pretty sure you’ve heard.
It started as five words combined, but now it’s grown by two,
And it is still growing, 'cause I think it is too few!
If you haven’t guessed, the man is me, and if you’re getting blue,
My full good name is Adam-Apple-Hungry-Campbell-Soup.
To many, the mystery is how the name came to be,
But now I will enlighten you, and set your mind free.
The Adam goes with Apple; they both start with an “A.”
I made it up myself, I’m really proud to say.
The hungry is appropriate, cuz that’s just what I am.
I love Bean with Bacon Campbell Soup when in a jam.
In short, my name is Adam, and I like apple pie.
I’m Hungry for some Campbell Soup when I’m in a fry.
I really love to go backpacking, and I really love orange pop.
If you know me personally, you know I do not stop.
And when, with arms full of pop, into English class I ran,
All my classmates started to call me the cool “Slice Man.”
And now, good friends, you see how it is I came about my name,
And you see how cool it would be, if I had some fame.
When I drove by, people would cry, while in the streets they ran,
“There goes Adam Apple Hungry Campbell Soup Slice Man!”
And one day when he grows so old, he’ll have lots of fame.
His many names combine to form a very awesome word.
It’s been going round for quite some time, I’m pretty sure you’ve heard.
It started as five words combined, but now it’s grown by two,
And it is still growing, 'cause I think it is too few!
If you haven’t guessed, the man is me, and if you’re getting blue,
My full good name is Adam-Apple-Hungry-Campbell-Soup.
To many, the mystery is how the name came to be,
But now I will enlighten you, and set your mind free.
The Adam goes with Apple; they both start with an “A.”
I made it up myself, I’m really proud to say.
The hungry is appropriate, cuz that’s just what I am.
I love Bean with Bacon Campbell Soup when in a jam.
In short, my name is Adam, and I like apple pie.
I’m Hungry for some Campbell Soup when I’m in a fry.
I really love to go backpacking, and I really love orange pop.
If you know me personally, you know I do not stop.
And when, with arms full of pop, into English class I ran,
All my classmates started to call me the cool “Slice Man.”
And now, good friends, you see how it is I came about my name,
And you see how cool it would be, if I had some fame.
When I drove by, people would cry, while in the streets they ran,
“There goes Adam Apple Hungry Campbell Soup Slice Man!”
The Influence of Joey
I was hiking with the scouts one day,
Hiking quickly, we couldn’t delay.
It was really hot and we really smelled.
Anyone we passed, their noses they held.
We were hiking in Canyon Lands Park.
Then water was heard, everyone did hark.
‘Twas the Colorado River right by the trail.
The thought of a bath everyone did hail.
All present went in, one after the next.
Each screamed in turn, their pride a wreck.
But all seemed glad that they’d ventured out.
I chose to as well, though I couldn’t help but pout.
I waded in, till it was up to my waist.
It was so cold they laughed at my face.
I was trying to work up the courage to submerge.
But I couldn’t, the cold around my middle surged.
And then, bad luck, I felt like a stone.
I couldn’t dunk or get out- I felt quite alone.
‘Twas then uttered the powerful command.
“Do it for Joey, oh thou worthy Slice Man!”
I’m proud to proclaim, I’m proud to say,
I completely dunked in the undunkable that day.
Because of the command, that binds all Anti-rice-
Do it for Joey, O thou worthy Man-of-Slice!
Hiking quickly, we couldn’t delay.
It was really hot and we really smelled.
Anyone we passed, their noses they held.
We were hiking in Canyon Lands Park.
Then water was heard, everyone did hark.
‘Twas the Colorado River right by the trail.
The thought of a bath everyone did hail.
All present went in, one after the next.
Each screamed in turn, their pride a wreck.
But all seemed glad that they’d ventured out.
I chose to as well, though I couldn’t help but pout.
I waded in, till it was up to my waist.
It was so cold they laughed at my face.
I was trying to work up the courage to submerge.
But I couldn’t, the cold around my middle surged.
And then, bad luck, I felt like a stone.
I couldn’t dunk or get out- I felt quite alone.
‘Twas then uttered the powerful command.
“Do it for Joey, oh thou worthy Slice Man!”
I’m proud to proclaim, I’m proud to say,
I completely dunked in the undunkable that day.
Because of the command, that binds all Anti-rice-
Do it for Joey, O thou worthy Man-of-Slice!
Gurgley Glue
I went to my room in lavender blue
To sing a song to my Gurgley Glue.
It stuck to my back with a growl and a groan
It’s been with me these days wherever I roam.
I turned thirty-two just about yesterday,
My Glue is still on me in a not-so-great way.
I’ve tried to burn it off with lots of dry ice,
I tried to scare it off with a bunch of mice.
But though it’s been burned, scared, and ensnared,
My Glue is still on me, our secrets are shared.
I suppose I could stop and end my life there,
But with my Glue knowing, I do not dare.
I went to a party on Friday, March 1st
With Glue on my back, I feared the worst.
I went up and said Hi to a girl that was there;
With a scream and a laugh the Glue jumped in her hair.
She screamed and she yelled and she started to cry.
That’s when I decided the Glue had to die.
I didn’t know why and I didn’t know how,
But I did know when, and the time was now.
I rushed to my car where I kept a sharp chisel.
The young lady’s head was beginning to frizzle.
I opened the door and grabbed the tool and,
I ran back to the party with chisel in hand.
I knew she might think she was being attacked,
But I had no choice, so I jumped on her back.
With a blade in my hand and fire in my eye,
I pushed it in deep and I started to pry.
We ripped and we tugged and we pushed and we tore.
We didn’t think we could do anything more.
And just when we thought we would call it a day,
My Gurgley Glue started hopping away.
I sighed ‘cause I thought that my problems were dead
And that’s when I got a swift kick to the head.
When I awoke I was met by the stare
Of the girl with a huge mass of sticky blond hair.
To sing a song to my Gurgley Glue.
It stuck to my back with a growl and a groan
It’s been with me these days wherever I roam.
I turned thirty-two just about yesterday,
My Glue is still on me in a not-so-great way.
I’ve tried to burn it off with lots of dry ice,
I tried to scare it off with a bunch of mice.
But though it’s been burned, scared, and ensnared,
My Glue is still on me, our secrets are shared.
I suppose I could stop and end my life there,
But with my Glue knowing, I do not dare.
I went to a party on Friday, March 1st
With Glue on my back, I feared the worst.
I went up and said Hi to a girl that was there;
With a scream and a laugh the Glue jumped in her hair.
She screamed and she yelled and she started to cry.
That’s when I decided the Glue had to die.
I didn’t know why and I didn’t know how,
But I did know when, and the time was now.
I rushed to my car where I kept a sharp chisel.
The young lady’s head was beginning to frizzle.
I opened the door and grabbed the tool and,
I ran back to the party with chisel in hand.
I knew she might think she was being attacked,
But I had no choice, so I jumped on her back.
With a blade in my hand and fire in my eye,
I pushed it in deep and I started to pry.
We ripped and we tugged and we pushed and we tore.
We didn’t think we could do anything more.
And just when we thought we would call it a day,
My Gurgley Glue started hopping away.
I sighed ‘cause I thought that my problems were dead
And that’s when I got a swift kick to the head.
When I awoke I was met by the stare
Of the girl with a huge mass of sticky blond hair.
Girl Poem # 1
I know a girl who’s really hot
And though I’ve really tried,
I can’t get her to like me
Or just go for a ride.
I try to go and talk to her
But then my tongue is tied.
I tried to sing but no sound came
And now she thinks me lame.
I’ve also tried to impress her
With my dizzying intellect.
But when I try to talk real smart
My words are all a wreck.
I give her some good muscles
And prove that I’m a man.
But all she does is chuckle-
I can tell she’s not a fan.
We all went to a party
Where we all played kissing games.
I’m glad I got to kiss her
Though again she thought me lame.
I wasn’t very lucky
‘Cause she didn’t kiss me back.
I guess really it’s because
Of the romance I lack...
And though I’ve really tried,
I can’t get her to like me
Or just go for a ride.
I try to go and talk to her
But then my tongue is tied.
I tried to sing but no sound came
And now she thinks me lame.
I’ve also tried to impress her
With my dizzying intellect.
But when I try to talk real smart
My words are all a wreck.
I give her some good muscles
And prove that I’m a man.
But all she does is chuckle-
I can tell she’s not a fan.
We all went to a party
Where we all played kissing games.
I’m glad I got to kiss her
Though again she thought me lame.
I wasn’t very lucky
‘Cause she didn’t kiss me back.
I guess really it’s because
Of the romance I lack...
Girl Poem # 2
I took a trip to school one day
I looked for a girl to which I’d say hey
While at the door of my 1st period class
I saw a hot girl, at long last
I went up and said Hi to her on a whim
I knew she was my ‘her’, and I, her ‘him’
Flexing my muscles as hard as I could
Just like a cool wanderer would
I wish I could say I got her to like me-
I wish I could tell a great tale.
But I think I blew it and I guess she knew it,
She got so mad you’d think there was hail.
Well this is how the story goes-
She got mad, gave me a bloody nose.
I went to the clinic, and, needless to say,
I didn’t attend my first class that day.
All I did was try to say Hi.
But though she got mad, I still wonder why.
I can tell our relationship is at a bad start.
Maybe it’s because of my accidental…
I looked for a girl to which I’d say hey
While at the door of my 1st period class
I saw a hot girl, at long last
I went up and said Hi to her on a whim
I knew she was my ‘her’, and I, her ‘him’
Flexing my muscles as hard as I could
Just like a cool wanderer would
I wish I could say I got her to like me-
I wish I could tell a great tale.
But I think I blew it and I guess she knew it,
She got so mad you’d think there was hail.
Well this is how the story goes-
She got mad, gave me a bloody nose.
I went to the clinic, and, needless to say,
I didn’t attend my first class that day.
All I did was try to say Hi.
But though she got mad, I still wonder why.
I can tell our relationship is at a bad start.
Maybe it’s because of my accidental…
Girl Poem # 3
I met a girl upon a time when I was at the pool.
She was so ravishingly hot I almost let out drool.
I couldn’t see in all of her a single tiny flaw.
Because of this I could feel my soul getting rather raw.
Her hair was like the rest of her, long, golden, blond and curled.
Her eyes were blue and melted you, I could jump in, take a whirl.
I saw her lips and wanted to give her a good long kiss.
The way she walked and way she talked were something not to miss.
I tried to stop and talk to her, but no sound really came.
Then she smiled and I could talk, I was no longer maimed.
We sat down and talked about stuff, I don’t remember what.
I was in my element, for once, not in a rut.
We kept on talking and then our hands started to get close.
This is the scene that every boy likes to be in the most
She turned her head and then her lips grew real close to mine.
And then we kissed and I was lost, it tasted so sublime.
I’m afraid that when we kissed I found I couldn’t stop.
She looked so good and smelled so sweet and tasted like lollipop.
She gave me one last kiss and that is when from sleep I woke.
My puppy dog was licking me, and then my poor heart broke.
She was so ravishingly hot I almost let out drool.
I couldn’t see in all of her a single tiny flaw.
Because of this I could feel my soul getting rather raw.
Her hair was like the rest of her, long, golden, blond and curled.
Her eyes were blue and melted you, I could jump in, take a whirl.
I saw her lips and wanted to give her a good long kiss.
The way she walked and way she talked were something not to miss.
I tried to stop and talk to her, but no sound really came.
Then she smiled and I could talk, I was no longer maimed.
We sat down and talked about stuff, I don’t remember what.
I was in my element, for once, not in a rut.
We kept on talking and then our hands started to get close.
This is the scene that every boy likes to be in the most
She turned her head and then her lips grew real close to mine.
And then we kissed and I was lost, it tasted so sublime.
I’m afraid that when we kissed I found I couldn’t stop.
She looked so good and smelled so sweet and tasted like lollipop.
She gave me one last kiss and that is when from sleep I woke.
My puppy dog was licking me, and then my poor heart broke.
Oh, For the Love of Hair!
Of course I have much gratitude for the mop atop my head,
A backup cushion when I sleep when no pillow for my bed.
It’s also nice when snow and ice will cover all the ground.
And if long enough it softens every loud, obnoxious sound.
I’ve often wondered, though, if hair’s more trouble than it’s worth.
Some styles all but reduce me to silent, shaking mirth.
I’ve thought that some dos might be wired for radio.
That kid nodding his head, does he hear his favorite show?
It makes me pause, to wonder how some have such a graceful neck,
While holding up such weightiness; how can their spine not be a wreck?
If I had no hair I’d need not care for shampoo that might spill.
My showers would be half as long; I’d save on my water bill.
If I flipped my head around, there’d be no hair to block my sight.
This makes me feel that hair itself might be anything but right.
I realize I’m often thought to have been mentally hard-walled,
But I’ve had a revelation! Why don’t we all just go for bald?!
We’d save on gel, shampoo, conditioner and perms not least.
We’d never have to focus each morning on taming the beast.
Just think of how much time we’d save, to do something else instead.
We could take up morning yoga, we’d have time to make the bed.
I’ll have a chat with the president, he’ll change the law because I called.
‘Fellow Americans, it’s official, we will now be boldly bald!’
A backup cushion when I sleep when no pillow for my bed.
It’s also nice when snow and ice will cover all the ground.
And if long enough it softens every loud, obnoxious sound.
I’ve often wondered, though, if hair’s more trouble than it’s worth.
Some styles all but reduce me to silent, shaking mirth.
I’ve thought that some dos might be wired for radio.
That kid nodding his head, does he hear his favorite show?
It makes me pause, to wonder how some have such a graceful neck,
While holding up such weightiness; how can their spine not be a wreck?
If I had no hair I’d need not care for shampoo that might spill.
My showers would be half as long; I’d save on my water bill.
If I flipped my head around, there’d be no hair to block my sight.
This makes me feel that hair itself might be anything but right.
I realize I’m often thought to have been mentally hard-walled,
But I’ve had a revelation! Why don’t we all just go for bald?!
We’d save on gel, shampoo, conditioner and perms not least.
We’d never have to focus each morning on taming the beast.
Just think of how much time we’d save, to do something else instead.
We could take up morning yoga, we’d have time to make the bed.
I’ll have a chat with the president, he’ll change the law because I called.
‘Fellow Americans, it’s official, we will now be boldly bald!’
Life is Like a Chicken
Chicken is yummy.
Chicken is great.
Good for any meal,
Early or late.
I like Chicken.
It’s anything you need.
Sweet and tangy,
Bar-B-Q or even honeyed.
Cordon Bleu,
O that makes my day.
The best of the best of the best.
I’d say!
There’s nothing like
A big juicy piece,
A little tyke eating
Mountains of grease,
Or, come to that
Some hot, spicy wings.
The hottest are
Fit for kings.
The influence of chicken
Is far and wide.
Choose what you like.
Easy to decide.
Most everything tastes
Like chicken too.
There’s nothing like
A chicken stew.
Me gusta pollo,
I like chicken.
Power to the leg,
That taste is kickin’!
Chicken is great.
Good for any meal,
Early or late.
I like Chicken.
It’s anything you need.
Sweet and tangy,
Bar-B-Q or even honeyed.
Cordon Bleu,
O that makes my day.
The best of the best of the best.
I’d say!
There’s nothing like
A big juicy piece,
A little tyke eating
Mountains of grease,
Or, come to that
Some hot, spicy wings.
The hottest are
Fit for kings.
The influence of chicken
Is far and wide.
Choose what you like.
Easy to decide.
Most everything tastes
Like chicken too.
There’s nothing like
A chicken stew.
Me gusta pollo,
I like chicken.
Power to the leg,
That taste is kickin’!
Phlaming Phelines
Each of us brought our goodies to camp,
Pulled to the top of the trail.
The best of the best, to give us the strength,
To ensure that we could not fail.
Slice brought his economy-sized cans of beef,
Donated ravioli.
Gardner brought burritos with specially- made
Elk sausage, so good to see.
Joey brought steaks, and yes, ‘tis true,
All condiments were there safely packed.
Strudels and soda in abundance did lie,
So that none could say we lacked.
A roaring hot fire, lots of good food,
Everyone fully satisfied.
And then to fun our minds were turned,
By the reflection of firelight.
Out they came, those flammable fancies,
Works of quality explosions.
Black cats by the brick, ensured
To give out many hot motions.
One hundred per tenth, divided.
The first of the matches we lit.
One hundred kittens ignited.
And every which way they split.
Ten times ten gave light to show
The scene that then played out.
Fireballs flying, everyone diving,
To make all the cats go out.
Pulled to the top of the trail.
The best of the best, to give us the strength,
To ensure that we could not fail.
Slice brought his economy-sized cans of beef,
Donated ravioli.
Gardner brought burritos with specially- made
Elk sausage, so good to see.
Joey brought steaks, and yes, ‘tis true,
All condiments were there safely packed.
Strudels and soda in abundance did lie,
So that none could say we lacked.
A roaring hot fire, lots of good food,
Everyone fully satisfied.
And then to fun our minds were turned,
By the reflection of firelight.
Out they came, those flammable fancies,
Works of quality explosions.
Black cats by the brick, ensured
To give out many hot motions.
One hundred per tenth, divided.
The first of the matches we lit.
One hundred kittens ignited.
And every which way they split.
Ten times ten gave light to show
The scene that then played out.
Fireballs flying, everyone diving,
To make all the cats go out.
Blizzard of 1997
Through the hazy mists of legend,
Back inside the vortex of Time,
We reach a destination where colors can be touched
And limericks do not rhyme.
Going backwards from the beginning,
Doing things which in reality cannot be done,
We find those wonders that cause us to gaze,
To breathe and exist as one.
And as one we traveled,
My five compatriots and I.
We braved the Blizzard’s strength and fury,
Taking the chance that we could die.
Three cans of Soup, One Jay ‘N Be,
A Gardener and a Bear ‘N Steel.
This was the Blizzard of Nineteen Ninety-Seven:
The Risks and Danger were real.
The reports of this Blizzard were daunting;
Four feet of cold ice and snow were sure.
This Storm would rage for three days straight.
They doubted that we would endure.
We had our gear, our tents, and our packs.
We took all the clothes we could find.
Our faces to the fore, we went out the door.
The safety of home left behind.
In single file with the Steel Bear in front,
We waded through plains of wet Cold.
At times we were digging, the snow was so deep,
But it only made the Steel more bold.
At last when we could go no farther,
We halted, and made our small camp.
We shedded wet clothes and crawled into our bags,
And slept by light of Nature’s frosted lamp.
Legends will form; great poets will speak
Of the six that would not be stayed.
Nature bade them fall; yet they stood as a wall,
Though their clothes became sodden and frayed.
And the people will say in years to come,
Their will is not matched under heaven.
They will speak of them as heroes who won,
During the Blizzard of Nineteen Ninety-Seven.
Back inside the vortex of Time,
We reach a destination where colors can be touched
And limericks do not rhyme.
Going backwards from the beginning,
Doing things which in reality cannot be done,
We find those wonders that cause us to gaze,
To breathe and exist as one.
And as one we traveled,
My five compatriots and I.
We braved the Blizzard’s strength and fury,
Taking the chance that we could die.
Three cans of Soup, One Jay ‘N Be,
A Gardener and a Bear ‘N Steel.
This was the Blizzard of Nineteen Ninety-Seven:
The Risks and Danger were real.
The reports of this Blizzard were daunting;
Four feet of cold ice and snow were sure.
This Storm would rage for three days straight.
They doubted that we would endure.
We had our gear, our tents, and our packs.
We took all the clothes we could find.
Our faces to the fore, we went out the door.
The safety of home left behind.
In single file with the Steel Bear in front,
We waded through plains of wet Cold.
At times we were digging, the snow was so deep,
But it only made the Steel more bold.
At last when we could go no farther,
We halted, and made our small camp.
We shedded wet clothes and crawled into our bags,
And slept by light of Nature’s frosted lamp.
Legends will form; great poets will speak
Of the six that would not be stayed.
Nature bade them fall; yet they stood as a wall,
Though their clothes became sodden and frayed.
And the people will say in years to come,
Their will is not matched under heaven.
They will speak of them as heroes who won,
During the Blizzard of Nineteen Ninety-Seven.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
If I Fall
If I fall without a reason, pick me up and dust me off.
If I seems as though I’m fading, help me through, thanks a lot.
When fierce demons try kill me, hold my hand if weak my knack.
If I’m close to death and fading fast, call my name and I’ll be back.
Sometimes I feel like I am close, close to losing all my nerve.
I sometimes wonder in my struggles, if my plea for help is heard.
Would that I could win on my own, but a cripple cannot stand,
Without someone to raise me to my feet, offer a caring hand.
Life is oh so hard to bear, when you take it on your own.
A single ant can’t build an anthill, if he tries it all alone.
Many hands make work easy, if those hands use all their might.
And the structure will be strengthened, if they build into the night.
I am weak and I am falling, weakening quickly, falling fast.
I need your help so I can stand, catch my hand and I will last.
I wish I had the strength to survive, so I could stand all on my own.
And when I knew that I was able, I’d give that should be shown.
When we separate to be alone, it makes a weakness unknown to us.
Without that friend to lean on, we’ll die at adversity’s first thrust.
Like the canopy that won’t stand, if it has but one pole to grasp,
We’ll be destroyed, though it take decades; we will fall at long last.
So have someone to lean on, if you can see the flood’s great path.
Cause that flood takes all not strengthened,
By its unstoppable wrath.
Be ready when the storm comes, for all the damage it could do,
You’ll find yourself not standing,
Your soul will be soaked through.
If I seems as though I’m fading, help me through, thanks a lot.
When fierce demons try kill me, hold my hand if weak my knack.
If I’m close to death and fading fast, call my name and I’ll be back.
Sometimes I feel like I am close, close to losing all my nerve.
I sometimes wonder in my struggles, if my plea for help is heard.
Would that I could win on my own, but a cripple cannot stand,
Without someone to raise me to my feet, offer a caring hand.
Life is oh so hard to bear, when you take it on your own.
A single ant can’t build an anthill, if he tries it all alone.
Many hands make work easy, if those hands use all their might.
And the structure will be strengthened, if they build into the night.
I am weak and I am falling, weakening quickly, falling fast.
I need your help so I can stand, catch my hand and I will last.
I wish I had the strength to survive, so I could stand all on my own.
And when I knew that I was able, I’d give that should be shown.
When we separate to be alone, it makes a weakness unknown to us.
Without that friend to lean on, we’ll die at adversity’s first thrust.
Like the canopy that won’t stand, if it has but one pole to grasp,
We’ll be destroyed, though it take decades; we will fall at long last.
So have someone to lean on, if you can see the flood’s great path.
Cause that flood takes all not strengthened,
By its unstoppable wrath.
Be ready when the storm comes, for all the damage it could do,
You’ll find yourself not standing,
Your soul will be soaked through.
I Still Believe
Upon the cold, gray ground I sit.
Motionless. Pondering.
I look up at the tall buildings.
I view the empty streets.
Empty of life, but for me.
Here, too, I am alone.
All else seems turned to stone.
I have no car, no way to leave.
What do I do?
Trapped yet again.
In this world I wish to leave.
A feeling deep within begins to swell-
I still believe!
The battle here fought both night and day,
Pulls at my soul to join the fray.
Yet always I have held some weapon in my hand.
But now the sinews and tendons, weak,
Let further strength ebb, and power leak.
I hardly can remember how to stand,
But I still believe!
Motionless. Pondering.
I look up at the tall buildings.
I view the empty streets.
Empty of life, but for me.
Here, too, I am alone.
All else seems turned to stone.
I have no car, no way to leave.
What do I do?
Trapped yet again.
In this world I wish to leave.
A feeling deep within begins to swell-
I still believe!
The battle here fought both night and day,
Pulls at my soul to join the fray.
Yet always I have held some weapon in my hand.
But now the sinews and tendons, weak,
Let further strength ebb, and power leak.
I hardly can remember how to stand,
But I still believe!
Feathers
Feather upon feather, weight upon weight.
Seventeen years to gather, almost eighteen to date.
The feathers always fall, and never stop, until,
They’ve served their purpose- to gather, hurt, and kill.
To gather, hurt, and kill? Who would have thought.
That such a preposterous thing could be bought?
Who could ever imagine that so miniscule a thing
Could the greatest of all to its knees one day bring?
A snowflake, so light, so harmless, so fun.
Yet many can form a great wall when building is done.
Many more can town or village destroy,
Yet so many see a snowflake as naught but a toy.
Weight upon weight, feather on feather,
If not stopped will one day bring inhospitable weather.
‘Twill the instrument of destruction for all of us be
-If not halted and overcome- till no more can we see.
A drop of water weighs nothing, almost nothing at all.
But gallons can together break the backs of the tall.
How do those with gallons still stand as they were,
If there is no other support for them that occurs?
There cannot be a building or structure that lasts,
Without a strong base underneath to hold fast.
A tent with one pole will of course one day fall.
Many poles are needed to help it stand tall.
Feather on feather on feather on feather,
Gravity will pack them tightly together.
And so those feathers become heavy as lead,
Till the bearer only wishes one feather be shed.
But what if the bearer wishes to stand alone?
His place not long will he be able to own.
If he stood alone forever, then he is doomed to fall,
For bricks need mortar to become a great wall.
Seventeen years to gather, almost eighteen to date.
The feathers always fall, and never stop, until,
They’ve served their purpose- to gather, hurt, and kill.
To gather, hurt, and kill? Who would have thought.
That such a preposterous thing could be bought?
Who could ever imagine that so miniscule a thing
Could the greatest of all to its knees one day bring?
A snowflake, so light, so harmless, so fun.
Yet many can form a great wall when building is done.
Many more can town or village destroy,
Yet so many see a snowflake as naught but a toy.
Weight upon weight, feather on feather,
If not stopped will one day bring inhospitable weather.
‘Twill the instrument of destruction for all of us be
-If not halted and overcome- till no more can we see.
A drop of water weighs nothing, almost nothing at all.
But gallons can together break the backs of the tall.
How do those with gallons still stand as they were,
If there is no other support for them that occurs?
There cannot be a building or structure that lasts,
Without a strong base underneath to hold fast.
A tent with one pole will of course one day fall.
Many poles are needed to help it stand tall.
Feather on feather on feather on feather,
Gravity will pack them tightly together.
And so those feathers become heavy as lead,
Till the bearer only wishes one feather be shed.
But what if the bearer wishes to stand alone?
His place not long will he be able to own.
If he stood alone forever, then he is doomed to fall,
For bricks need mortar to become a great wall.
Choosing the Final Feather
November twenty-eighth, nineteen-eighty-two,
The docs said two weeks early, but no, it wasn’t true.
A baby that is healthy, small and yet quite strong.
A baby that will live, they said, again they were wrong.
For while this child grew it had a child of its own.
Unknown to the doctors, from birth its child had grown.
A seed it held for comfort, the seed to take its life.
A weed in the making, it would forever cause great strife.
The baby grew up happy until his birthday of nine.
Pains inside its head, the baby’s parents knew not why.
A year wherein the baby grew unhappy every day.
Two parents who were shocked, Why does our child act this way?
The baby played a game one day, with brothers it adored.
The baby grew dizzy, and fell unconscious to the floor.
Driven by its parents to the place where doctors were,
The parents hoped no damage, and wanted to make sure.
The doctors searched, and searched again, no damage could they find.
But wait, they cried, what is this thing inside the baby’s mind?
The seed had grown into a weed, doctors quickly took it out,
And hoped that that was the end of this corrosive bout.
Two years, and the child took in meds to stay alive.
Artificial replacements for what it didn’t have inside.
A child shunned by friends because he was so strange.
The child didn’t understand, there was nothing it could change.
Four years, and the parents found the weed came back to stay.
This time it was too dangerous for the docs to cut away.
The child knew it was to die and grew morose and sad.
Happiness came rarely, for ‘twas just a passing fad.
He began to lose, and finally lost, the love he had before.
Of life and of all else, and was unhappy evermore.
But love must exist, so instead of life he gave.
His love to death, and longed for it from life himself to save.
Years have passed and times have changed; the baby, yet alive,
Begins to see that life is good and so begins to thrive.
The baby thinks that maybe all of this will turn for good.
And so decides to live full life, for real; he knows he should.
The docs said two weeks early, but no, it wasn’t true.
A baby that is healthy, small and yet quite strong.
A baby that will live, they said, again they were wrong.
For while this child grew it had a child of its own.
Unknown to the doctors, from birth its child had grown.
A seed it held for comfort, the seed to take its life.
A weed in the making, it would forever cause great strife.
The baby grew up happy until his birthday of nine.
Pains inside its head, the baby’s parents knew not why.
A year wherein the baby grew unhappy every day.
Two parents who were shocked, Why does our child act this way?
The baby played a game one day, with brothers it adored.
The baby grew dizzy, and fell unconscious to the floor.
Driven by its parents to the place where doctors were,
The parents hoped no damage, and wanted to make sure.
The doctors searched, and searched again, no damage could they find.
But wait, they cried, what is this thing inside the baby’s mind?
The seed had grown into a weed, doctors quickly took it out,
And hoped that that was the end of this corrosive bout.
Two years, and the child took in meds to stay alive.
Artificial replacements for what it didn’t have inside.
A child shunned by friends because he was so strange.
The child didn’t understand, there was nothing it could change.
Four years, and the parents found the weed came back to stay.
This time it was too dangerous for the docs to cut away.
The child knew it was to die and grew morose and sad.
Happiness came rarely, for ‘twas just a passing fad.
He began to lose, and finally lost, the love he had before.
Of life and of all else, and was unhappy evermore.
But love must exist, so instead of life he gave.
His love to death, and longed for it from life himself to save.
Years have passed and times have changed; the baby, yet alive,
Begins to see that life is good and so begins to thrive.
The baby thinks that maybe all of this will turn for good.
And so decides to live full life, for real; he knows he should.
The Gace of Bod
The only thing of worth
That I can say is all mine,
Is rare and unseen-
The only one of its kind.
It is a cage,
The exact shape of my soul.
A body, an organism,
In shape of a black hole.
You wanted the key
To get into my heart.
Here it is, up for sale
At any local Mart.
My bags are packed,
My ticket’s in my pocket.
I will flee the cage
As soon as you unlock it.
Yes I have lost it,
The fire’s about gone.
My trip from this world to that
Begins before long.
So, farewell gray world.
My heart has long since gone.
I’ll be glad to be free
Of this world that’s so wrong.
That I can say is all mine,
Is rare and unseen-
The only one of its kind.
It is a cage,
The exact shape of my soul.
A body, an organism,
In shape of a black hole.
You wanted the key
To get into my heart.
Here it is, up for sale
At any local Mart.
My bags are packed,
My ticket’s in my pocket.
I will flee the cage
As soon as you unlock it.
Yes I have lost it,
The fire’s about gone.
My trip from this world to that
Begins before long.
So, farewell gray world.
My heart has long since gone.
I’ll be glad to be free
Of this world that’s so wrong.
Twenty-nine Thousand, One Forty-Nine
Boots in the city,
Boots in town,
Boots that were friendly,
On which are frowned.
Boots that tried
To support much weight,
Boots broken in,
When thrown from the gate.
Boots that blundered,
And finally fell
When sticks and stones
Broke into the shell.
Boots rejected,
Stuck in sand,
Color is faded
By Nature’s demand.
Boots unnoticed,
Seemingly dull,
Tainted by wisdom
Of which they are full.
Boots that bled,
Boots that bore
Twenty-nine thousand
And one forty-nine more.
Boots that survived
Nothing but spite.
Rough in diamonds-
Pale, yet bright.
Boots in town,
Boots that were friendly,
On which are frowned.
Boots that tried
To support much weight,
Boots broken in,
When thrown from the gate.
Boots that blundered,
And finally fell
When sticks and stones
Broke into the shell.
Boots rejected,
Stuck in sand,
Color is faded
By Nature’s demand.
Boots unnoticed,
Seemingly dull,
Tainted by wisdom
Of which they are full.
Boots that bled,
Boots that bore
Twenty-nine thousand
And one forty-nine more.
Boots that survived
Nothing but spite.
Rough in diamonds-
Pale, yet bright.
Slice Man Meets the Devil
Down in his fortress deep below, the devil thought to rise.
Up in the world he thought he’d go, then he thought of a prize.
He thought of the cool Slice Man, he thought to have contest.
There were many ways to beat him, and still have quite a jest.
Slice was camping with his friends when the devil came right up
And Slice was chugging tons of pop, he didn’t need a cup.
Slice’s friend Gardner asked the devil, “What do you need?”
The devil said, “I want your good friend Slice’s soul to breed.”
The awesome Slice put down his pop and said, “There is no way”
“I like my life the way it is, don’t want your game to play.”
The devil said, “But if you do, and if by chance you win,
All the pop in the world will be yours to keep” and this made Slice grin.
Slice said, “That isn’t good enough, I want some strudels too,
And lots of ravioli, and it better not be too few.”
The devil said, “Then it’s a deal, and let’s get started then
I bet I’ll drink more pop than you,” he thought Slice to offend.
But Slice Man said, “Prepare yourself, this drink will be your last.”
So saying, he drank two liters nonstop, and then he gave a gasp.
And after taking one deep breath, he drank two liters more.
That brought his total pop chugged, in liters, up to four.
Well, the devil jumped up and declared, “I will make you strut,
For I have deep within me an awesome, large, fat gut.
Without another word, he drank two liters and,
He drank two liters more, and thought himself so grand.
The score was tied, the devil said, “Let’s try this another way.
How about an intellectual game of battle Risk, what say?”
This made Slice’s friend, Joey B, give a good loud snort,
“Everyone knows Slice is best at Risk, and that’s not short.”
Well, Slice agreed, and so the awesome game of Risk began.
It took a good long time, for hours long it ran.
But after lots of time Slice Man began to get ahead.
Because of this the devil thought Slice’s soul was one to dread.
And soon that nasty devil gave up and said, “You win.
I see it will be rather hard to get your soul to sin.
And though this contest for me was really not too fun.
You can expect your prize to arrive in about a month.
It was a surprise, but he spoke the truth, though he was made of muck.
In a month there came to Slice Man’s house lots of trucks.
The main truck man made Slice sign, but he was really nice.
Now Slice’s house is full of strudels, ravioli, and Slice.
Up in the world he thought he’d go, then he thought of a prize.
He thought of the cool Slice Man, he thought to have contest.
There were many ways to beat him, and still have quite a jest.
Slice was camping with his friends when the devil came right up
And Slice was chugging tons of pop, he didn’t need a cup.
Slice’s friend Gardner asked the devil, “What do you need?”
The devil said, “I want your good friend Slice’s soul to breed.”
The awesome Slice put down his pop and said, “There is no way”
“I like my life the way it is, don’t want your game to play.”
The devil said, “But if you do, and if by chance you win,
All the pop in the world will be yours to keep” and this made Slice grin.
Slice said, “That isn’t good enough, I want some strudels too,
And lots of ravioli, and it better not be too few.”
The devil said, “Then it’s a deal, and let’s get started then
I bet I’ll drink more pop than you,” he thought Slice to offend.
But Slice Man said, “Prepare yourself, this drink will be your last.”
So saying, he drank two liters nonstop, and then he gave a gasp.
And after taking one deep breath, he drank two liters more.
That brought his total pop chugged, in liters, up to four.
Well, the devil jumped up and declared, “I will make you strut,
For I have deep within me an awesome, large, fat gut.
Without another word, he drank two liters and,
He drank two liters more, and thought himself so grand.
The score was tied, the devil said, “Let’s try this another way.
How about an intellectual game of battle Risk, what say?”
This made Slice’s friend, Joey B, give a good loud snort,
“Everyone knows Slice is best at Risk, and that’s not short.”
Well, Slice agreed, and so the awesome game of Risk began.
It took a good long time, for hours long it ran.
But after lots of time Slice Man began to get ahead.
Because of this the devil thought Slice’s soul was one to dread.
And soon that nasty devil gave up and said, “You win.
I see it will be rather hard to get your soul to sin.
And though this contest for me was really not too fun.
You can expect your prize to arrive in about a month.
It was a surprise, but he spoke the truth, though he was made of muck.
In a month there came to Slice Man’s house lots of trucks.
The main truck man made Slice sign, but he was really nice.
Now Slice’s house is full of strudels, ravioli, and Slice.
Victory
How far can one small warrior go?
How much can he endure?
How hot must be the fires
To make the gold most pure?
How high can the biker climb
Upon the mountain’s height?
How many rounds can the boxer go,
Or the weaker fighter fight?
How many times will each be downed,
And choose to get back up?
No matter that the frowners frown,
Will he fight to win the cup?
And if, though each gives all he has,
Yet still can’t reach the bar,
Will he count the loss a victory
Because he came so very far?
When he makes it to the finish,
And sees another with the crown
Will he count the loss a victory
Choosing to smile, and not be down?
When he sees the crowd all roaring
For another standing near
Will he shrug it off, and turn about,
And for another cheer?
Would he count the loss a victory,
If he had come twice the way,
Through twice the hardships the other had-
Would he take the loss, and stay?
Would he take the chance to start a feud,
And make a friend instead
With the one who reached the finish first
And always seemed far ahead?
And if they both by friendship lived
The remainder of their lives,
Would not both be found at the finish
With the winner’s prize?
How much can he endure?
How hot must be the fires
To make the gold most pure?
How high can the biker climb
Upon the mountain’s height?
How many rounds can the boxer go,
Or the weaker fighter fight?
How many times will each be downed,
And choose to get back up?
No matter that the frowners frown,
Will he fight to win the cup?
And if, though each gives all he has,
Yet still can’t reach the bar,
Will he count the loss a victory
Because he came so very far?
When he makes it to the finish,
And sees another with the crown
Will he count the loss a victory
Choosing to smile, and not be down?
When he sees the crowd all roaring
For another standing near
Will he shrug it off, and turn about,
And for another cheer?
Would he count the loss a victory,
If he had come twice the way,
Through twice the hardships the other had-
Would he take the loss, and stay?
Would he take the chance to start a feud,
And make a friend instead
With the one who reached the finish first
And always seemed far ahead?
And if they both by friendship lived
The remainder of their lives,
Would not both be found at the finish
With the winner’s prize?
Contentment
And so while people drive their cars,
And search for ways to inhabit Mars,
While watching TV becomes a career,
I look for what I need right here.
While the Pres makes himself Head Cop of the Earth,
And others strive to find some mirth
In what they say and do each day,
I strive to find a better way,
To make me happy, to make complete
The world within this world of heat,
So that when destiny calls for strength,
She’ll find me ready at any length,
To take this day I truly live in,
And fight and strive to live and win
The tug-of-war of love and hate,
So that I’ll be master of my own fate.
And search for ways to inhabit Mars,
While watching TV becomes a career,
I look for what I need right here.
While the Pres makes himself Head Cop of the Earth,
And others strive to find some mirth
In what they say and do each day,
I strive to find a better way,
To make me happy, to make complete
The world within this world of heat,
So that when destiny calls for strength,
She’ll find me ready at any length,
To take this day I truly live in,
And fight and strive to live and win
The tug-of-war of love and hate,
So that I’ll be master of my own fate.
Do Not Quit!
When one is in the hospital- and has been for days,
The pigment in one’s eyes constitutes a reddish glaze.
And without daily trekking throughout the hospital wards,
There results a gradual weakening of every muscle’s chords.
A time I was there for an operation on my brain.
The section was a delicate place- that much was plain.
Very close to the brain stem- Ops were light as a feather.
The docs worked carefully to keep my brains together.
Yes, I emerged thereafter with left and right intact.
But there was one thing that had resulted in my lack.
I found that my previous balance had abandoned every limb.
So long and farewell to Slice Man’s equilibrium.
But in my hospital bed I thought, as Slice Man ought,
‘I can walk, for against greater mountains have I fought!’
And thus it was that Slice Man, with no one present there,
Challenged weakened limbs to rise and conquer adverse air.
The railing on the bed was lowered, legs rotated out.
Ensuing exhaustion showed what muscle-age had given out.
And then with heart a-burning strong, Slice Man took a step.
Faith as strong as Dr. Jones as across the chasm he leapt.
But Slice Man’s leap was different; no hidden step gave call,
When his weakened limbs were bodily thrown against the wall.
Bones were slammed and joints near jammed as Slice slumped to the floor.
An unbeaten spirit then rose and fought, to try it just once more.
And that is why this world I see still can make the grade.
Stop the badness, help the goodness never, never fade.
No matter how much burn is administered by the sun,
Only you can give it up and say when you are done!
The pigment in one’s eyes constitutes a reddish glaze.
And without daily trekking throughout the hospital wards,
There results a gradual weakening of every muscle’s chords.
A time I was there for an operation on my brain.
The section was a delicate place- that much was plain.
Very close to the brain stem- Ops were light as a feather.
The docs worked carefully to keep my brains together.
Yes, I emerged thereafter with left and right intact.
But there was one thing that had resulted in my lack.
I found that my previous balance had abandoned every limb.
So long and farewell to Slice Man’s equilibrium.
But in my hospital bed I thought, as Slice Man ought,
‘I can walk, for against greater mountains have I fought!’
And thus it was that Slice Man, with no one present there,
Challenged weakened limbs to rise and conquer adverse air.
The railing on the bed was lowered, legs rotated out.
Ensuing exhaustion showed what muscle-age had given out.
And then with heart a-burning strong, Slice Man took a step.
Faith as strong as Dr. Jones as across the chasm he leapt.
But Slice Man’s leap was different; no hidden step gave call,
When his weakened limbs were bodily thrown against the wall.
Bones were slammed and joints near jammed as Slice slumped to the floor.
An unbeaten spirit then rose and fought, to try it just once more.
And that is why this world I see still can make the grade.
Stop the badness, help the goodness never, never fade.
No matter how much burn is administered by the sun,
Only you can give it up and say when you are done!
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Survival of the Fittest
Pushing and trying, gasping and striving,
Breaking it down and building it back.
Working with muscles, and then will alone,
You feel there is something you might possibly lack.
Your rivals are fighting to survive as well.
They know only the strongest will survive.
Physical, mental, emotional, as one,
Working together they test who’s alive.
First your feet, then legs, arms, and chest;
They start to ache in dull pain.
Soon every step forward brings a grimace,
You grit your teeth and continue to gain.
Yes it hurts - worse than you thought possible,
But when one stone falls, another takes the place.
Behind every muscle lies another to back it,
To ensure you continue and finish your race.
Onward and upward, through waves of anguish.
The breath comes in spurts of gasps.
But the end is in sight; your heart feels light,
You know to the finish you can last.
Breaking it down and building it back.
Working with muscles, and then will alone,
You feel there is something you might possibly lack.
Your rivals are fighting to survive as well.
They know only the strongest will survive.
Physical, mental, emotional, as one,
Working together they test who’s alive.
First your feet, then legs, arms, and chest;
They start to ache in dull pain.
Soon every step forward brings a grimace,
You grit your teeth and continue to gain.
Yes it hurts - worse than you thought possible,
But when one stone falls, another takes the place.
Behind every muscle lies another to back it,
To ensure you continue and finish your race.
Onward and upward, through waves of anguish.
The breath comes in spurts of gasps.
But the end is in sight; your heart feels light,
You know to the finish you can last.
The Strength of Connections
A blade of grass, plucked from the ground,
Many more will make a large pile.
Air blown along makes a sweet sound,
And keeps one busy for a while.
Tied together, many long strands,
Suspended ‘twixt fence and tree.
Lines upon lines of grass ropes affixed,
More tied, and woven between.
Hours pass by…the weaver still weaves,
Until no holes can exist.
A wall of mere grass made strong through ties.
The wall stays strong as a fist.
Strength might not ever be thought,
To belong to anything so thin.
But bound together, no matter the weather,
The wall withstands the fury of sin.
Many more will make a large pile.
Air blown along makes a sweet sound,
And keeps one busy for a while.
Tied together, many long strands,
Suspended ‘twixt fence and tree.
Lines upon lines of grass ropes affixed,
More tied, and woven between.
Hours pass by…the weaver still weaves,
Until no holes can exist.
A wall of mere grass made strong through ties.
The wall stays strong as a fist.
Strength might not ever be thought,
To belong to anything so thin.
But bound together, no matter the weather,
The wall withstands the fury of sin.
Monday, August 16, 2010
Jewel Most Rare 3
And now it seems that I must find some reason to want to live.
But I have no cause to search- I’ve given all I have the guts to give.
Now I am lost and wandering- it seems that such must be.
I know not whether I shall ever find myself wandering free.
But as I walk, I ponder on all that has been done.
And as I ponder, I remember all the battles that have been lost and have been won.
And now again my fevered steps bring me back to where I’d once begun,
When I believed that I would make it, and to the light I’d always run,
When I knew I would do all it took to bravely to the end endure.
But now I face a challenge I never knew- I am no longer pure.
I wish to fall upon the ground, I wish to sit and cry,
For all that has been lost, it makes me want to die.
Some great eternal purpose I have failed to fulfill.
I have not given my all; I have not done my Father’s will.
But haven’t I tried, haven’t I done His will till now?
If I am to recover, I must ask: how?
Once more I lower my precious, sullied knapsack to the ground.
Thinking back on all that’s happened since my golden heart I found.
Feelings dulled, I reach inside and pull it forth-
My heart of gold, now dirtied, though it even now is full of worth.
I remember in my darkest moments when my life was saved,
On the mountain’s height, when to share my heart of hearts I braved.
Remembering the miles, leagues, and ages my precious light had traveled,
The millions who stood by me as my whole story unraveled.
Remembering, too, their love as they carried me back down,
The tears that fell from many eyes as they lowered me back upon the ground.
I know the task that lies before me, by the untold grace of God’s own Son.
Though no greater pain I’ve felt, what has been must be undone!
Angels guide my footsteps back to where it all began.
My blazing, white-hot fire awaits to purge the stains from one old man.
Taking one deep breath, I pause, thinking of every sin.
Then, calling upon weakened limbs to strive- I throw it in!
I grimace as my heart sears in the blazing fire, but then,
I am carried by this glowing thought- I will be clean again
But I have no cause to search- I’ve given all I have the guts to give.
Now I am lost and wandering- it seems that such must be.
I know not whether I shall ever find myself wandering free.
But as I walk, I ponder on all that has been done.
And as I ponder, I remember all the battles that have been lost and have been won.
And now again my fevered steps bring me back to where I’d once begun,
When I believed that I would make it, and to the light I’d always run,
When I knew I would do all it took to bravely to the end endure.
But now I face a challenge I never knew- I am no longer pure.
I wish to fall upon the ground, I wish to sit and cry,
For all that has been lost, it makes me want to die.
Some great eternal purpose I have failed to fulfill.
I have not given my all; I have not done my Father’s will.
But haven’t I tried, haven’t I done His will till now?
If I am to recover, I must ask: how?
Once more I lower my precious, sullied knapsack to the ground.
Thinking back on all that’s happened since my golden heart I found.
Feelings dulled, I reach inside and pull it forth-
My heart of gold, now dirtied, though it even now is full of worth.
I remember in my darkest moments when my life was saved,
On the mountain’s height, when to share my heart of hearts I braved.
Remembering the miles, leagues, and ages my precious light had traveled,
The millions who stood by me as my whole story unraveled.
Remembering, too, their love as they carried me back down,
The tears that fell from many eyes as they lowered me back upon the ground.
I know the task that lies before me, by the untold grace of God’s own Son.
Though no greater pain I’ve felt, what has been must be undone!
Angels guide my footsteps back to where it all began.
My blazing, white-hot fire awaits to purge the stains from one old man.
Taking one deep breath, I pause, thinking of every sin.
Then, calling upon weakened limbs to strive- I throw it in!
I grimace as my heart sears in the blazing fire, but then,
I am carried by this glowing thought- I will be clean again
Grip
‘Hold on your way, great warrior,’
She intently says to me.
‘You must not let these tethers
Bind you until you are not free.
You must pick yourself back up and shake
These chains until they fall.
Great glory waits still for you.
Rise up and be tall!
This is not your war you’re fighting,
But it is the war you’re in.
You are called to fight for the right,
And against each deadly sin.
It is not only your own soul
Which in the balance hangs.
Others count on you;
You must help them heal their pains.
I know you’re weary of the fight
But you simply cannot quit.
You must build up your light again
Until it’s fully lit.
We are always with you
To keep you on the path.
You still can earn your mansion
And gain all the Father hath.’
She intently says to me.
‘You must not let these tethers
Bind you until you are not free.
You must pick yourself back up and shake
These chains until they fall.
Great glory waits still for you.
Rise up and be tall!
This is not your war you’re fighting,
But it is the war you’re in.
You are called to fight for the right,
And against each deadly sin.
It is not only your own soul
Which in the balance hangs.
Others count on you;
You must help them heal their pains.
I know you’re weary of the fight
But you simply cannot quit.
You must build up your light again
Until it’s fully lit.
We are always with you
To keep you on the path.
You still can earn your mansion
And gain all the Father hath.’
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Transcendence
Here I stand upon my path, glimpsed-
One good, one evil end.
Toward both have I traveled far,
And ever returned again.
Within, the same two forces battle
For my very soul.
One to bring me closer to- one farther from- my goal.
Every thought, belief, and action
Pulls for 2 or pulls for 1.
Yet each decision can,
All those preceding, make undone.
If such is true- I know it is-
I’m very much aware
Each step I choose to take
Must be with exceeding care.
Though seem it may as blackest gray
Tis on my shoulders laid-
Here is my chance! It’s time to shine! No call to be afraid!
Great hosts, unseen, cry ‘Onward!
Though your path be danger rife,
There is no higher goal than yours-
You seek eternal life!’
One good, one evil end.
Toward both have I traveled far,
And ever returned again.
Within, the same two forces battle
For my very soul.
One to bring me closer to- one farther from- my goal.
Every thought, belief, and action
Pulls for 2 or pulls for 1.
Yet each decision can,
All those preceding, make undone.
If such is true- I know it is-
I’m very much aware
Each step I choose to take
Must be with exceeding care.
Though seem it may as blackest gray
Tis on my shoulders laid-
Here is my chance! It’s time to shine! No call to be afraid!
Great hosts, unseen, cry ‘Onward!
Though your path be danger rife,
There is no higher goal than yours-
You seek eternal life!’
Embraced
At the end of my rope, I’ve naught more to give.
One foot in front of the other.
If I keep moving, I continue to live,
Here among my sisters, my brothers.
All round me they stand, but I feel them no more.
My spirit is trying to leave.
I have given all I have to give.
It is difficult to believe.
The moment arrives,
I will leave! I’ll be gone!
No longer to frequent this place.
Then an angel rushes to my side
And folds me within her embrace.
Ah! I am gasping! Her love is so strong,
It washes over my soul.
Balm to my hurts, my gaping wounds,
In an effort to make them all whole.
Still on my cliff’s edge, for I cannot leave,
I view the abyss below.
‘I feel my time at last has come.
Please!’ I say, ‘Let me go…’
‘Thousands of prayers have been given,' she says,
'To keep you strong and steady.
Now your time has nearly come,
But you are just not ready!’
‘Then woe is me; I cannot find
A reason to want to stay.
I have fought the fight for all my life.
I am immersed, even now, in the fray.
But my strength is gone, my heart is dark
And I have not the will to fight.’
‘Then I shall hold on to you,’ she says
‘Until you are filled again with light!’
One foot in front of the other.
If I keep moving, I continue to live,
Here among my sisters, my brothers.
All round me they stand, but I feel them no more.
My spirit is trying to leave.
I have given all I have to give.
It is difficult to believe.
The moment arrives,
I will leave! I’ll be gone!
No longer to frequent this place.
Then an angel rushes to my side
And folds me within her embrace.
Ah! I am gasping! Her love is so strong,
It washes over my soul.
Balm to my hurts, my gaping wounds,
In an effort to make them all whole.
Still on my cliff’s edge, for I cannot leave,
I view the abyss below.
‘I feel my time at last has come.
Please!’ I say, ‘Let me go…’
‘Thousands of prayers have been given,' she says,
'To keep you strong and steady.
Now your time has nearly come,
But you are just not ready!’
‘Then woe is me; I cannot find
A reason to want to stay.
I have fought the fight for all my life.
I am immersed, even now, in the fray.
But my strength is gone, my heart is dark
And I have not the will to fight.’
‘Then I shall hold on to you,’ she says
‘Until you are filled again with light!’
Friday, August 13, 2010
Facing a Fear
Before the blazing fire
You stand upon your feet.
You fear that you’ll be burned by
The scorching, white- hot heat.
And yet it is through this fire
You are called to go.
What you soon will feel you cannot,
You have no way to know.
Over and over you face this,
Over and over again.
Your struggling will one day be written
By the poet’s pen.
And now you take your first step
Into the thing you fear.
You feel an ounce of triumph-
You have finally made it here!
A strange euphoria grips you
As another step you take.
You do have strength and courage!
Your resolve will not shake!
You can push through the fire!
You can hold your head up high!
You can be strong, and know you’re doing well,
Because you try.
So keep going, and keep trying-
You will make it in the end.
In time you will heal, and in time you will mend!
You stand upon your feet.
You fear that you’ll be burned by
The scorching, white- hot heat.
And yet it is through this fire
You are called to go.
What you soon will feel you cannot,
You have no way to know.
Over and over you face this,
Over and over again.
Your struggling will one day be written
By the poet’s pen.
And now you take your first step
Into the thing you fear.
You feel an ounce of triumph-
You have finally made it here!
A strange euphoria grips you
As another step you take.
You do have strength and courage!
Your resolve will not shake!
You can push through the fire!
You can hold your head up high!
You can be strong, and know you’re doing well,
Because you try.
So keep going, and keep trying-
You will make it in the end.
In time you will heal, and in time you will mend!
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Light and Truth
Light will always war with darkness-
Forever has, forever will.
I do all I can, and yet,
The darkness fights me still.
Pains and struggles will be mine
I often don’t understand.
I must remember all the challenges
Are part of Father’s plan.
It is not strange one rarely loves
The fires one goes through.
That doesn’t change what I have learned throughout-
It yet is true!
And if by truth I live my life,
The truth shall set me free.
What I do here and now
Determines my eternity.
There is no fire in my path,
No mountain yet to climb,
No river I must swim across,
No valley steeped with grime-
Not a single tribulation
My Savior leads me through-
That cannot take my heart
And change it
Until it is completely new.
Forever has, forever will.
I do all I can, and yet,
The darkness fights me still.
Pains and struggles will be mine
I often don’t understand.
I must remember all the challenges
Are part of Father’s plan.
It is not strange one rarely loves
The fires one goes through.
That doesn’t change what I have learned throughout-
It yet is true!
And if by truth I live my life,
The truth shall set me free.
What I do here and now
Determines my eternity.
There is no fire in my path,
No mountain yet to climb,
No river I must swim across,
No valley steeped with grime-
Not a single tribulation
My Savior leads me through-
That cannot take my heart
And change it
Until it is completely new.
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