Awestruck
tucked inside the belly of a whale
Jonas
having responded to every which way
our course we set in the day
regret at our bed
remorse before death
wait for answers in our rest.
And the answer is,
BLOOD
drawn while we were sleeping
still yet in sin
the transfusion was accomplished-
we succeeded death,being hooked and clubbed.
That was the accompanying result of
being left too long out of Your water.
I didn't even stop to catch my breath
I was flopping on the floor
a small dot of a fish
when all of a sudden...
vomited on the shore
white as wet skin for a long time.
Hello
Thursday, May 1, 2008
stymied
cooked
stalled in halls of
fallen called
to lull and crawl
past rust and dusted pasted waste.
Once upon a time,
in a city called
Forever
lived a contrived being
made perfect
then tested
who was
you.
And although you
fried when tossed in a pan full of grease
or
rusted when sent to the bottom of the deep blue see-
YOU MADE IT AWAKE AGAIN!
it was all just a dream
stymied:any situation in which one is obstructed or frustrated
stalled in halls of
fallen called
to lull and crawl
past rust and dusted pasted waste.
Once upon a time,
in a city called
Forever
lived a contrived being
made perfect
then tested
who was
you.
And although you
fried when tossed in a pan full of grease
or
rusted when sent to the bottom of the deep blue see-
YOU MADE IT AWAKE AGAIN!
it was all just a dream
stymied:any situation in which one is obstructed or frustrated
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Sign Post
There's this sign post in the road.
My glasses are fogged up so that I can't read it clearly.
I think that it says STOP
but by the time I make out the third letter, I have forgotten the first two , have passed it and almost gone off the road.
In a few minutes, there is another sign post. It says basically the same thing . At least the letters seem shaped the same way , there seems to be as many as before , but the sun gets in my eyes and so I miss its meaning again.
Maybe it says Stop or maybe it says Enough ,Quiet, or Remember. I don't know and its beginning to bother me because it keeps popping up every few miles. Maybe its not there, maybe I just wish that it was,a directional to life's behavior.I want to stop the vehicle so that I can not only check the water and oil levels but also write down what it says and tuck it in my pocket.
I would begin the message with these words : Thus saith the Lord.
But then I might tear it up because, what if thus doesn't saith the Lord? What if saith thou only me? I'm thinking that if it is not tainted with a particular agenda and smells really fresh it must be from God. I need that right now. A freshening.
Here comes the sign again...
L
I
S
T
E
N
My glasses are fogged up so that I can't read it clearly.
I think that it says STOP
but by the time I make out the third letter, I have forgotten the first two , have passed it and almost gone off the road.
In a few minutes, there is another sign post. It says basically the same thing . At least the letters seem shaped the same way , there seems to be as many as before , but the sun gets in my eyes and so I miss its meaning again.
Maybe it says Stop or maybe it says Enough ,Quiet, or Remember. I don't know and its beginning to bother me because it keeps popping up every few miles. Maybe its not there, maybe I just wish that it was,a directional to life's behavior.I want to stop the vehicle so that I can not only check the water and oil levels but also write down what it says and tuck it in my pocket.
I would begin the message with these words : Thus saith the Lord.
But then I might tear it up because, what if thus doesn't saith the Lord? What if saith thou only me? I'm thinking that if it is not tainted with a particular agenda and smells really fresh it must be from God. I need that right now. A freshening.
Here comes the sign again...
L
I
S
T
E
N
Monday, April 14, 2008
No End of Poetry
The knowing of the Three is enough to braid any rhyme or meter ,
cohesive.
Their tough bonded cord tightened toward the light of day
pulls us away from futility
with a towline of agility.
We bend straight.
Forced with line or weight,trees.
our stretch is clean...
or not.
Lack of subtility means forgetfulness.
Our best face forward is shrouded nobility,
when
our limited personal identity is dispersed,disposed,deleted.
We are becoming.
Who are we?
YOU...YOU...YOU...
amen. Let it be as you have said.
SATISFACTION GARANTEED
WHEN OUR MEMORY OF ETERNITY IS FREED.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
register the offender
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!
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!
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
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