Remember that...
Surrender to all of the pent up suspensions and yield to the redemption of nothing in your own imagination.Stop long enough to flush!
Take the keys! It doesn't seem fitting to drive a car with no hands for the wheel.Do you have hands? Are you ready?
Stolen, steal. Reel in the problematic , because if up and over again occurs one more time-so help me God.
Up and over again. So, HELP ME GOD.
If there is one solid place for a seeming way station to find it's foundation, just make me a confortable shelter so that they'll stay long enough to interact. Just when it seems that one has climbed over the wall of my sphere of responsibility, another is attempting to make the trip. But there, their feet can't be wide enough- their legs not long enough-their arms not strong enough- their code of ethics not yet set in the concrete. But up and over - So, help ME God...OUCH!
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
TAKE ME TO MY LEADER
Transmitting from w. h o m e in Wa. This is the Wednesday edition of, 'Another day, another Holler', with your host and willing servant...Mom
A little more 'education' would have done me wonders, the blunderingly pernicious rare opportunities that strike like slipping at the starting line of a fast short race :my writing. I have knighted myself. Dubbed the poet, who wrote and writes in note and frightful sparks of ,'what hit me?' 'Oh, never mind, it was nothing.' Or maybe... It is another opportunity to stay occupied like digging a hole and filling it in again.
Fortunately , deep INSIDE, past the sarkikos man we are all predispositioned. Like the automatic ant we do what we need to, seeking the Leader of perfect word music to lift the baton.
OUTSIDE, from every station ,we drag on, scraping our naked bodies over rock and course sand.We fan out across the horizon guarding our heads and necks. We find bugs and eat them. Dew in the crevices,we drink this stuff, straining out the junk with our teeth. This is not beneath us, this is our life and we don't know anything else. We imagine that the bowel movement has something to do with us.We are a wealth of disinformation irrelevant,and are occupied.
This is a test. For the next(what are we guaranteed?) The Creator will be conducting a test of the emergence broadcast system. This is not only a test. What just hit me? never mind , it was nothing.Or maybe...
How special you are, little baby.You are so beautiful and precious. You are perfect in my eyes. You are my chosen one. Come over here, I want to rock you in my arms, you look tired. Before you do though, please remove the ten year old urinated on suit, newspaper shoes and shopping cart.
I saw my mother dressed just like this once. When she died, her arms were spread out and her feet were pressed ...one on top of the other.
A little more 'education' would have done me wonders, the blunderingly pernicious rare opportunities that strike like slipping at the starting line of a fast short race :my writing. I have knighted myself. Dubbed the poet, who wrote and writes in note and frightful sparks of ,'what hit me?' 'Oh, never mind, it was nothing.' Or maybe... It is another opportunity to stay occupied like digging a hole and filling it in again.
Fortunately , deep INSIDE, past the sarkikos man we are all predispositioned. Like the automatic ant we do what we need to, seeking the Leader of perfect word music to lift the baton.
OUTSIDE, from every station ,we drag on, scraping our naked bodies over rock and course sand.We fan out across the horizon guarding our heads and necks. We find bugs and eat them. Dew in the crevices,we drink this stuff, straining out the junk with our teeth. This is not beneath us, this is our life and we don't know anything else. We imagine that the bowel movement has something to do with us.We are a wealth of disinformation irrelevant,and are occupied.
This is a test. For the next(what are we guaranteed?) The Creator will be conducting a test of the emergence broadcast system. This is not only a test. What just hit me? never mind , it was nothing.Or maybe...
How special you are, little baby.You are so beautiful and precious. You are perfect in my eyes. You are my chosen one. Come over here, I want to rock you in my arms, you look tired. Before you do though, please remove the ten year old urinated on suit, newspaper shoes and shopping cart.
I saw my mother dressed just like this once. When she died, her arms were spread out and her feet were pressed ...one on top of the other.
Monday, October 8, 2007
childtaught
I sought to be heard in the vast space of more places than stations to fill up at. Most vehicles are stranded by the side of the alphabet , they say too much but not too late?We are all screaming at the ceiling of our own framed enclosure. For some the space between the ears is higher than the mountain of I AM .My fame is the same as far as I can see, being blind and naked.For the sake of argument,the place of deliverance is very close.The host, can you wave back? Turn up the volume ,we can't hear you...how about a little drop of water on my tongue?
Just give me a clue,am I on the right track?
We will all stand corrected and succinct at the blink of an eye,breathless ,wordless ...we will say finally what we meant to say from the very beginning.'I need you forever'.Glory is finally pleasing God.
Just give me a clue,am I on the right track?
We will all stand corrected and succinct at the blink of an eye,breathless ,wordless ...we will say finally what we meant to say from the very beginning.'I need you forever'.Glory is finally pleasing God.
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