Isn’t life synonymous with change? Your very being, your very essence, the very fact that you are alive means change. I have yet to see the last minute be the same as the next minute. Life brings many things to bear. Love, loss, compassion, distress, sadness, pain, sorrow, forgiveness, hunger, fulfillment these things are related to living, related to life. What is important to know, all of these states of being while part of living or life is also things that bring change.
Love changes the very fiber of your being both positively and negatively. At the heights of love your outlook on life changes, the sun is a little brighter, the sky is little clearer, people don’t seem to be as bothersome. On the flip side, you don’t want to get out of bed, it seems to always rain, and people are the last thing you want to deal with. Your state of being forever changed, so you believe, because pain and sorrow have been introduced to you in a way you wished to avoid.
What would life be if not for the ups and downs, highs and lows, times of fulfillment and times of disappointment? I would argue that you are not experiencing life, not living at all. God did not provide us with air to breathe, and five senses to lay by the wayside. God utilizes these things to help us get to our peak performance, peak worship, peak praise, to reach the place He would have us reach. While man is incapable of reaching perfection, there was only and will ever only be one perfect being, God helps us grow by placing change into our lives. People may wonder why at times it seems that all hell breaks loose in their lives at once, but they forget that they have asked God for patience. How else does God give you patience less you go through the hell necessary to achieve patience? The saying “be careful what you pray for” comes to mind. Through it all stand, God loves you!
Loss is a stage in life where many have failed. It is at that exact moment when we and I include myself must lean on God the most. Instead, we try to understand on our own. Blame God for taking that person away from us. The saying “don’t question God” comes to mind. People are brought into our lives for only a season, once God has told them there work is done, how selfish of us to wish them to be with us any longer. I firmly believe that I will not pass until my work is done, my prayer is, it was God’s work and I am able to hear “well done my good and faithful servant”.
Compassion is the one thing we do not have enough of. Compassion is a game changer. This one thing has been given to us in abundance, without limit, without discretion, we only have to apply it to make a difference in peoples lives. I can imagine the lives changed because someone showed another person compassion. 1 Peter 3:8 Finally, be ye all of one mind, having compassion one another, love as brethren, be pitiful, be courteous: Compassion is in the book, let us remember what is asked of us. Be mindful of the ones you can be compassionate to.
Life and Change are like death and taxes, peanut butter and jelly, bologna and cheese, milk and cookies, you cannot have one without the other. The question I would pose to you is would you have it any other way? Trust but verify. Believe. Have faith and God Bless!
Monday, December 7, 2009
Saturday, October 31, 2009
After Midnight
Depending on your age, social status, health and having or lack of kids Whether its "party over here", "pimpin out" dosing meds and illicit drugs or PJ's and the 10 O'clock news
What happens after midnight can be poppin, tippin shot glasses, eyeing trappin's for the after party, heavy head aches, drunkin stupors, slurred vocabulary wanting company or lies for your "Sexy Appeal".....its lip lickin time depending on what you intended for your meaning of party over here or there after midnight
OR
You could be cruising the channels for something appealing stopping here and there til infomercials distract you and forgetting what you were watching occupying dead space time cause the mind is busy with nothing to do, so we occupy the intellect receptors with noise and distractions dodging meaningful other tasks and responsibilities that should have been done before midnight that was important, but loss to procrastination and tripped up by laziness and complacency
OR
A late night snack with PJ's and socks, sometimes in scanty garments on walking the floors, candle light, back ground is smooth jazz, songs of romance... a glass of wine...... just the 2 of you learning of comforts, teasing and cuddling, seeing how the ripples of charm flow back, feeling out, asking innocently disguised but probing questions for finding common ground and interests, but sometimes there is only one common interest for one night, call ourselves friends and go our separate ways, til we bump into each other again and all alone in the party spot......after midnight
Or
Sit all alone in quiet, reading on the computer just doing searches of cyberspace, visiting friends on facebook, myspace, twittering or communicating with phone contacts
TD Jake's might fill a void in life, late night preachers may be the call of the night when there is pain, neglect and mental suffering and the need for the words of the Bible are comforting when it seems you are all alone even destitute, yet somehow a feeling of wholesome and healing transform negative thoughts of self harm, giving up, lost hope and reasons for living is rejuvenated with taking a moment to reconnect with the words and scriptures from God stabilizes our foundations for us to get back to the basics "If God brought you to it, he will see you through it" and if we can sing one line from the hymn song "Old Rugged Cross" and envision what Jesus suffered to save us form our sins, we would know that we have on our side through scripture that "No weapon formed against us, shall prosper" and cain't nobody do us like Jesus!
Or
The clock can tick one minute after twelve midnight and guess what? It will be one minute after twelve and a new day's beginning
What happens after midnight can be poppin, tippin shot glasses, eyeing trappin's for the after party, heavy head aches, drunkin stupors, slurred vocabulary wanting company or lies for your "Sexy Appeal".....its lip lickin time depending on what you intended for your meaning of party over here or there after midnight
OR
You could be cruising the channels for something appealing stopping here and there til infomercials distract you and forgetting what you were watching occupying dead space time cause the mind is busy with nothing to do, so we occupy the intellect receptors with noise and distractions dodging meaningful other tasks and responsibilities that should have been done before midnight that was important, but loss to procrastination and tripped up by laziness and complacency
OR
A late night snack with PJ's and socks, sometimes in scanty garments on walking the floors, candle light, back ground is smooth jazz, songs of romance... a glass of wine...... just the 2 of you learning of comforts, teasing and cuddling, seeing how the ripples of charm flow back, feeling out, asking innocently disguised but probing questions for finding common ground and interests, but sometimes there is only one common interest for one night, call ourselves friends and go our separate ways, til we bump into each other again and all alone in the party spot......after midnight
Or
Sit all alone in quiet, reading on the computer just doing searches of cyberspace, visiting friends on facebook, myspace, twittering or communicating with phone contacts
TD Jake's might fill a void in life, late night preachers may be the call of the night when there is pain, neglect and mental suffering and the need for the words of the Bible are comforting when it seems you are all alone even destitute, yet somehow a feeling of wholesome and healing transform negative thoughts of self harm, giving up, lost hope and reasons for living is rejuvenated with taking a moment to reconnect with the words and scriptures from God stabilizes our foundations for us to get back to the basics "If God brought you to it, he will see you through it" and if we can sing one line from the hymn song "Old Rugged Cross" and envision what Jesus suffered to save us form our sins, we would know that we have on our side through scripture that "No weapon formed against us, shall prosper" and cain't nobody do us like Jesus!
Or
The clock can tick one minute after twelve midnight and guess what? It will be one minute after twelve and a new day's beginning
After Midnight
10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, Happy New Year! Every New Year is brought in at Midnight the morning of January 1st. With every New Year, one hope and dreams of a new start, new resolutions, new diets, and new love interest, just something new. What is telling is that this is all done after midnight. I was always told that nothing good happens after midnight. A married person should not be out past midnight without their spouse. Do not be out past midnight. These are all sayings I have heard in my lifetime.
All too often, the worst things happen after midnight. What is it about our predatory nature that we do things the least desirable to society at night? Why do you think it is so easy for people to do the bad things they do in the wee ours of the night. I would say it is because darkness and light cannot coexist. Would you do some of the things you have done if it had been a little lighter outside? Can you tell me what the solution is to the woes we suffer in the late night? I believe the cure rest within the home. How many people do you know right now come from a fatherless home. Now let me say that not having a father around does not excuse the actions of those who wish to do harm, however I offer it as insight to what may be an underlying reason for the behavior of so many. Papa was a rolling stone, wherever he laid his hat was his home, but was he shy, because when papa started rolling I bet you it was after midnight. Some might say any man will do, just having one in the house makes a difference. What if that man is in the stairwell hitting the crack pipe, I would argue he took that first hit after midnight.
As the bell tolls, no one knows what draws out the worst in people. Perhaps if they would, or quite possibly could place their hands in a steeple. The world would, be as it should, where people could live their lives free. However, as it be, we cannot see a life after dark. However, in contrast however stark, the light must come from within. I am the way, the truth and the light, no man may cometh to the father but by me. (John 14, 6) Now do you see that it is he, who cures what ails all and makes it right? Perhaps with more faith, it would be safe to enjoy life after midnight.
All too often, the worst things happen after midnight. What is it about our predatory nature that we do things the least desirable to society at night? Why do you think it is so easy for people to do the bad things they do in the wee ours of the night. I would say it is because darkness and light cannot coexist. Would you do some of the things you have done if it had been a little lighter outside? Can you tell me what the solution is to the woes we suffer in the late night? I believe the cure rest within the home. How many people do you know right now come from a fatherless home. Now let me say that not having a father around does not excuse the actions of those who wish to do harm, however I offer it as insight to what may be an underlying reason for the behavior of so many. Papa was a rolling stone, wherever he laid his hat was his home, but was he shy, because when papa started rolling I bet you it was after midnight. Some might say any man will do, just having one in the house makes a difference. What if that man is in the stairwell hitting the crack pipe, I would argue he took that first hit after midnight.
As the bell tolls, no one knows what draws out the worst in people. Perhaps if they would, or quite possibly could place their hands in a steeple. The world would, be as it should, where people could live their lives free. However, as it be, we cannot see a life after dark. However, in contrast however stark, the light must come from within. I am the way, the truth and the light, no man may cometh to the father but by me. (John 14, 6) Now do you see that it is he, who cures what ails all and makes it right? Perhaps with more faith, it would be safe to enjoy life after midnight.
Friday, October 2, 2009
Eyes
I bear witness. I stimulate the mind. I am often used while shielded. My interpretation of events depend upon what state I am in. Whether I have the clarity of a perfect diamond, or the fog of inebriation my perception can vary. I am the beholder of beauty; my perception of you is all that matters. At times people line up in front of me and I select you based on my view. Sometimes that view is not correct. People have suffered needlessly because the investigation did not reveal what state I was in. People have fallen in love based on my approval; people have stalked because of my point of view. I have so much control over humankind that I am at the same time, God’s greatest gift and His greatest curse. I can take your state of being to new plateaus for what I envision, or I can send you reeling from disgust. I am the master of you.
For those who do not have the benefit of my reasoning, life can be difficult. Not being able to discern light and dark. Not being able to discern the yellow of the sun, the red breast of a Robin, the blues and grays of the sky, the colors of the rainbow, the pain on a friend’s face, the smile of a loved one that could brighten your day. Discern whether you can cross the street at the change of a light; know what the drive down Pacific Coast Highway is like.
I often realize how sensational things are in life. Being able to look at someone and tell if they are lying, whether they are sad, whether they are happy, uncomfortable, scared, or even have a blank stare. Those are the sensations in life we take for granted. Whether I am blue, gray, green, hazel, or brown I am still the master of you. I am Eyes.
For those who do not have the benefit of my reasoning, life can be difficult. Not being able to discern light and dark. Not being able to discern the yellow of the sun, the red breast of a Robin, the blues and grays of the sky, the colors of the rainbow, the pain on a friend’s face, the smile of a loved one that could brighten your day. Discern whether you can cross the street at the change of a light; know what the drive down Pacific Coast Highway is like.
I often realize how sensational things are in life. Being able to look at someone and tell if they are lying, whether they are sad, whether they are happy, uncomfortable, scared, or even have a blank stare. Those are the sensations in life we take for granted. Whether I am blue, gray, green, hazel, or brown I am still the master of you. I am Eyes.
Eyes
Balloon like, filled with aqueous & vitreous humor fluid, with a kaleidoscope iris’ coverings of various hues…….even called the windows of the mind
Embedded into a skeletal frame work for the face, able to scan the surrounding perimeters and register; now, time and place
Without the eyes and vision there is a darkness dependent on sound, senses, smell, tones and touch… a new ability to find
Our talents for survival, happiness, love, joy, sharing, caring and feeling connected to something that models the face
For how we “do it” with and without eyes….colors and darkness…. living the daily grind
Normalcy is a perspective, an ideal; a box to occupy space
Where we are shallow in our wisdoms, tribal in our judging of others, say things that are not so kind
Eyes are the” minds photo album” for our reflections in life, the rolodex for filing information, storing the joys, truths, disenchantments and the quality of love received
While the mind interprets, massages the input and cast back information depending on the condition of the spirit and what it believed
Our data could be skewed, burdened and grief stricken and filed with a heart from the “haters” data cabinet while holding a key that no longer fits
Opening doors, requests for a second opinion, a dose of understanding that will remove us from the pits
Of minor set backs or storms, that one eye conjured while the other eye slept
Eyes have many prisms of experiences, good, bad and indifferent
Eyes without moral and value foundations allow for self interpretation of the info received
Through carnal visions, religious lenses, twisted illusions and tribal/clannish ways
We are impacted for life in what eyes see and don’t see and
If eyes were removed from the skeletal core; they would be like the spy satellites perusing the orbiting galaxies, able to view the larger universe as they would hover above our earth viewing that which our creator see’s…..all things great, large and small.
Eyes see you and through their mirrors and the loss of earthen costumes; how good do we really look?
Embedded into a skeletal frame work for the face, able to scan the surrounding perimeters and register; now, time and place
Without the eyes and vision there is a darkness dependent on sound, senses, smell, tones and touch… a new ability to find
Our talents for survival, happiness, love, joy, sharing, caring and feeling connected to something that models the face
For how we “do it” with and without eyes….colors and darkness…. living the daily grind
Normalcy is a perspective, an ideal; a box to occupy space
Where we are shallow in our wisdoms, tribal in our judging of others, say things that are not so kind
Eyes are the” minds photo album” for our reflections in life, the rolodex for filing information, storing the joys, truths, disenchantments and the quality of love received
While the mind interprets, massages the input and cast back information depending on the condition of the spirit and what it believed
Our data could be skewed, burdened and grief stricken and filed with a heart from the “haters” data cabinet while holding a key that no longer fits
Opening doors, requests for a second opinion, a dose of understanding that will remove us from the pits
Of minor set backs or storms, that one eye conjured while the other eye slept
Eyes have many prisms of experiences, good, bad and indifferent
Eyes without moral and value foundations allow for self interpretation of the info received
Through carnal visions, religious lenses, twisted illusions and tribal/clannish ways
We are impacted for life in what eyes see and don’t see and
If eyes were removed from the skeletal core; they would be like the spy satellites perusing the orbiting galaxies, able to view the larger universe as they would hover above our earth viewing that which our creator see’s…..all things great, large and small.
Eyes see you and through their mirrors and the loss of earthen costumes; how good do we really look?
Friday, September 25, 2009
Hands
What an amazing tool. Hot, cold, smooth, rough, wet, dry, all sensations that can be felt by the hands. Sometimes things can be placed in the wrong hands, a beautiful woman can be in the hands of the wrong man, a child can be placed in the hands of an abusive parent, and your heart can be placed in the wrong hands as well. Often times our hands are the only sensory perception we utilize. I have heard that the hands are the eyes of the soul. Some of the finest artifacts were hand made. Imagine if you will the life of one without the use of their hands. Never able to touch the one you love, never able to wipe a tear from a child’s eye, never able to stroke the hair of that special someone. What if you could never play thumb wars with your son?
Hands are the one thing everyone takes for granted. Every day we write, scratch our head, push the button of an elevator, press the buttons on the remote, type on a keypad, and lick our fingers to get the ketchup off. What would you do if you did not have hands? Could you cover your eyes and play hide and seek, tickle the belly of your child, pull the finger of your father who blames the noise on imaginary animals and blame the smell on you? Have you thought about your hands?
Sometimes hands prevent that husband from beating you up, that person from stealing your purse, allows that teller to hand you your weeks pay, hand over that weeks pay to the grocery store clerk, and whatever other bills you may have. We do a lot of things with our hands. We have poured concrete, filled ink cartridges, snapped pictures, curled hair, pulled people out of fires, counted money to ensure the audit was accurate, and type emails on analysis performed on consumption. Work takes up most of our hands time, but every now and again we get to hold the woman you love, box with the son you adore, shake the hand of that person you just met, wave at the neighbor across the street, pick up the phone to call that loved one, write the formula for the aids cure, take out the trash you forgot yesterday, man we do a lot with our hands.
We do a lot of things with our hands. Perhaps the most important thing we can do with our hands is to give them in service to our fellow man, care for those who can not care for themselves. Wait, that is not correct, the most important thing we can do with our hands is to place them in the steeple position and give thanks for our blessing, one of those blessing being our hands.
Hands are the one thing everyone takes for granted. Every day we write, scratch our head, push the button of an elevator, press the buttons on the remote, type on a keypad, and lick our fingers to get the ketchup off. What would you do if you did not have hands? Could you cover your eyes and play hide and seek, tickle the belly of your child, pull the finger of your father who blames the noise on imaginary animals and blame the smell on you? Have you thought about your hands?
Sometimes hands prevent that husband from beating you up, that person from stealing your purse, allows that teller to hand you your weeks pay, hand over that weeks pay to the grocery store clerk, and whatever other bills you may have. We do a lot of things with our hands. We have poured concrete, filled ink cartridges, snapped pictures, curled hair, pulled people out of fires, counted money to ensure the audit was accurate, and type emails on analysis performed on consumption. Work takes up most of our hands time, but every now and again we get to hold the woman you love, box with the son you adore, shake the hand of that person you just met, wave at the neighbor across the street, pick up the phone to call that loved one, write the formula for the aids cure, take out the trash you forgot yesterday, man we do a lot with our hands.
We do a lot of things with our hands. Perhaps the most important thing we can do with our hands is to give them in service to our fellow man, care for those who can not care for themselves. Wait, that is not correct, the most important thing we can do with our hands is to place them in the steeple position and give thanks for our blessing, one of those blessing being our hands.
Hands
Imagine a world that did not and could not have the human touch…
In a world where touching, feeling, embrace are what feeds the mind, body and soul…
Imagine being brought up by a surrogate and fixated object as your examples for imprinting or for having a role model you cling on to for comfort; but in return, no return embrace of comfort and warmth…
Imagine being of one mind around the world addressing the social issues calling for the linking of hands as a symbol and call for unity…
Imagine the impact of giving the “High Five” clap and greeting…
In an ever increasing society that lives and survives on the common touch…
Imagine dating without holding hands first, before the kiss…
Imagine the kiss without the embrace and just lips touching…
Imagine a world without an outreaching hand…
Imagine a world without the comfort of a hand on or around your shoulder…
Imagine the combination of a hand for lifting you up and a word to strengthen your stance…
Imagine your being without a touch and only a voice…
The body, mind and spirit are nurtured by one main sensory perception…..” touch”, (conhumanness, and oneness) all of which feeds our need for normalcy and acceptance…
Imagine having to train your feet to take the place of your hands…
Pick up new born babies, children to show expressions of love and greetings…
Feet to hold and rotate the jump ropes for children’s play…
Feet in place of hands… or mouth in place of both…
We take for granted the importance of small and large tasks used by our hand(s)
What will we do when we reach out to touch other’s that have gone through life without arms or limbs…?
Would it break the chain of love, the cycle of touch, nurturing lost to feeling and embrace…?
To wave hello, to point to God, to give back change… Thank God for his goodness and mercy!
In a world where touching, feeling, embrace are what feeds the mind, body and soul…
Imagine being brought up by a surrogate and fixated object as your examples for imprinting or for having a role model you cling on to for comfort; but in return, no return embrace of comfort and warmth…
Imagine being of one mind around the world addressing the social issues calling for the linking of hands as a symbol and call for unity…
Imagine the impact of giving the “High Five” clap and greeting…
In an ever increasing society that lives and survives on the common touch…
Imagine dating without holding hands first, before the kiss…
Imagine the kiss without the embrace and just lips touching…
Imagine a world without an outreaching hand…
Imagine a world without the comfort of a hand on or around your shoulder…
Imagine the combination of a hand for lifting you up and a word to strengthen your stance…
Imagine your being without a touch and only a voice…
The body, mind and spirit are nurtured by one main sensory perception…..” touch”, (conhumanness, and oneness) all of which feeds our need for normalcy and acceptance…
Imagine having to train your feet to take the place of your hands…
Pick up new born babies, children to show expressions of love and greetings…
Feet to hold and rotate the jump ropes for children’s play…
Feet in place of hands… or mouth in place of both…
We take for granted the importance of small and large tasks used by our hand(s)
What will we do when we reach out to touch other’s that have gone through life without arms or limbs…?
Would it break the chain of love, the cycle of touch, nurturing lost to feeling and embrace…?
To wave hello, to point to God, to give back change… Thank God for his goodness and mercy!
Friday, September 18, 2009
Death
The paradox of being the most feared and the most sought after is I can be a gift to some and a curse to others. I spend my days and nights picking who will bend to my will, as I am nearly unstoppable. Nothing made can prevent my purpose for I am the ultimate machine. Once my gears begin to turn, the rattle is inevitable. Clarity comes as your minds eye sharpens; you have never seen this clearly before. One begins to understand that things could have been done differently. My story is endless, no one knows where I begin or end just that I exist. I am a living legend, if you will.
I have experienced the world, been to the most exotic places and I feast like a king. My time on earth has been very rewarding; I have had the pleasure of meeting millions. Whether in the south of France or in hills of the Himalaya’s I collect what is due to me. I am always on call, as I never sleep. Sleep can never claim me for I do not need to rest. I travel the globe granting the request of those who call for me. Some of them are not patient enough to wait and take matters into their own hands for they are weak. I walk the halls of crisp and cool buildings where machines alarm the watchers. If those who watch pay close attention I can sometimes be delayed, but as they are indifferent to those in their purview I pull off my crime.
Sometimes whether I win now or later depend upon that $9.00 per hour watcher who just lost her boyfriend to her best friend and can’t focus on the pitch in the background. The pitch that screeches until it goes flat. How about the Mack who pulled the Shorty in the other hallway while the line straightens out realizing that I was moments away but could have been delayed, had he not been worried about his seed being spilled into the abyss. I am sure he wishes I had passed by this night, but the curse has attacked him and he arrives just as the rattles stops. God bless his soul, as the night unfolds he now wishes I would come his way. It is at times like this I am a gift. But I choose to be a curse and let him live with himself. I am Death and I pass!
I have experienced the world, been to the most exotic places and I feast like a king. My time on earth has been very rewarding; I have had the pleasure of meeting millions. Whether in the south of France or in hills of the Himalaya’s I collect what is due to me. I am always on call, as I never sleep. Sleep can never claim me for I do not need to rest. I travel the globe granting the request of those who call for me. Some of them are not patient enough to wait and take matters into their own hands for they are weak. I walk the halls of crisp and cool buildings where machines alarm the watchers. If those who watch pay close attention I can sometimes be delayed, but as they are indifferent to those in their purview I pull off my crime.
Sometimes whether I win now or later depend upon that $9.00 per hour watcher who just lost her boyfriend to her best friend and can’t focus on the pitch in the background. The pitch that screeches until it goes flat. How about the Mack who pulled the Shorty in the other hallway while the line straightens out realizing that I was moments away but could have been delayed, had he not been worried about his seed being spilled into the abyss. I am sure he wishes I had passed by this night, but the curse has attacked him and he arrives just as the rattles stops. God bless his soul, as the night unfolds he now wishes I would come his way. It is at times like this I am a gift. But I choose to be a curse and let him live with himself. I am Death and I pass!
Death
Why is everyone so afraid to talk about it, or think about it, or plan for it (to the extent that you can)? I wonder if people think, if you speak it, think it or prepare for it, it will happen? Don’t they realize that God is in control, always has been and always will be?
Wouldn’t it be better to realize the inevitable, embrace it and live your life in such a way that when death comes – so will peace? Okay, I know you love them, you will miss them and you can’t imagine not having them around, but God is still in control.
Why not live each day being the best “you” possible to those you love and yourself? And when death does make its way to the doorstep of those you love – just remember God is in control. Embrace it and be at peace.
Wouldn’t it be better to realize the inevitable, embrace it and live your life in such a way that when death comes – so will peace? Okay, I know you love them, you will miss them and you can’t imagine not having them around, but God is still in control.
Why not live each day being the best “you” possible to those you love and yourself? And when death does make its way to the doorstep of those you love – just remember God is in control. Embrace it and be at peace.
Death
Oh death!
A calling that we cannot escape, it is the ultimate sacrifice dealt daily for you, them and we....
To be prepared for a meeting at the gates of heaven where God will call on thee....
Or prepare for a long hot summer in the sweltering flames....
Because of the unjust deeds and non repentant ways that were our claims....
Oh death!
A calling that we cannot escape, it is the ultimate sacrifice dealt daily for you, them and we....
How to extend my longevity on earth and to believe in a fountain of youth, a wonderful thought you see....
But no matter my physical state, my exercise regimen and pills I take, its God's choice for what happens to me....
It's up to me to control my environment and living on earth...
I can kill the spirits of the flesh, the carnal knowledge and survival instincts that comes with birth....
Being thoughtful and prayerful and giving God the glory is all our salt is worth....
Everything else is just white noise distracting our hearing of God's messages directions....
Our antennae searching horizontally on the ground losing touch with our vertical connections....
Lost in the maze of distractions, wickedness, selfishness, greed, narcissism and adorned with gold....
Because we have lost our identity in who we are, no spiritual structure or caught up in fitting in....
To a society that has lost compassion, love, brotherhood, fellowship, and the spirit of Christ and chose sin....
As a comrade to get by day to day and somehow feel secured in the wraps of deceit, lies and manipulation....
Forgetting that there is a price to pay, one day....
when we may not be prepared or able to say as the thief did on the cross....
"Jesus, remember me when you come into your Kingdom." Jesus replied, " I assure you, today you will be with me in paradise." (Forgiveness)
Oh Death!
A calling that we cannot escape, it is the ultimate sacrifice dealt daily for you, them and we....
How to extend my longevity on earth and to believe in a fountain of youth, a wonderful thought you see....
But no matter my physical state, my exercise regimen and pills I take, it God's choice what happens to me....
Do everything in the name of LOVE, RESPECT, DECENCY & BROTHERHOOD....
Give God the praise and the glory for the life he gives to us each day and be thankful and joyful....
Friday, September 11, 2009
Seed
Buried I struggle to survive for life means so much to me. Laid to rest though not dead I imagine what is possible. My minds eye visualizes the possible. My existence a mystery to me for I know not what I am, for God has not revealed that to me. My only knowledge of self is that I will one day sustain life. The journey is my reward.
I lay dormant within, my true meaning not realized. I am often spilled into napkins, tossed aside even swallowed at times. My struggle to survive impossible for my true meaning is not realized. I am the creator’s instrument to duplicate him but my true meaning is abandoned, as I said I am often tossed aside. I give life, though at times I should not have. My existence a mystery to me for I know not who I am, for God has not revealed that to me. My only knowledge of self is that I am. That I have a journey is my reward.
In the recesses of consciousness I stir. The Pentium fills with excitement in my infancy. Once mature, I put the pencil to pad and put my pennies together as the plan is being formulated. Sparked by God I can create, design, and instruct, sometimes outside of the will, I destroy. My existence a mystery to me for I know not what I am, for God has not revealed that to me. My only knowledge of self is that I dream. The dream of a journey is my reward.
Driven by uncertainty I linger around unsure. Decisions made hard for I am not sure of my next move. What shall I do next, do I move to the right or the left? Perhaps I should turn around and begin again. Crippled by not knowing, how can I survive this abyss? Because God has not revealed my path I have no journey, my existence should be futile but the chasm grows because of the uncertainty. My existence is a mystery simple because I am. What I am, can be purged once the pencil is put down, the Pentium at rest, my pennies turned into paper and my plan made concrete and ordained. Only then can I be laid to rest. Assuredness is my reward.
Believe in thy heart and confess with thy mouth and you will be saved. These are the tenants of salvation. The commonality in life is many, whether you are a seed buried to produce fruit, a seed produced to replicate the master, a seed spurred to produce an economic engine or handicapped by the seed of doubt, faith is the answer. Fruit has faith it will sustain life, God has faith that man will reproduce him, and dreams have faith they will come true. To remove doubt one only needs to have the faith of a mustard seed.
I lay dormant within, my true meaning not realized. I am often spilled into napkins, tossed aside even swallowed at times. My struggle to survive impossible for my true meaning is not realized. I am the creator’s instrument to duplicate him but my true meaning is abandoned, as I said I am often tossed aside. I give life, though at times I should not have. My existence a mystery to me for I know not who I am, for God has not revealed that to me. My only knowledge of self is that I am. That I have a journey is my reward.
In the recesses of consciousness I stir. The Pentium fills with excitement in my infancy. Once mature, I put the pencil to pad and put my pennies together as the plan is being formulated. Sparked by God I can create, design, and instruct, sometimes outside of the will, I destroy. My existence a mystery to me for I know not what I am, for God has not revealed that to me. My only knowledge of self is that I dream. The dream of a journey is my reward.
Driven by uncertainty I linger around unsure. Decisions made hard for I am not sure of my next move. What shall I do next, do I move to the right or the left? Perhaps I should turn around and begin again. Crippled by not knowing, how can I survive this abyss? Because God has not revealed my path I have no journey, my existence should be futile but the chasm grows because of the uncertainty. My existence is a mystery simple because I am. What I am, can be purged once the pencil is put down, the Pentium at rest, my pennies turned into paper and my plan made concrete and ordained. Only then can I be laid to rest. Assuredness is my reward.
Believe in thy heart and confess with thy mouth and you will be saved. These are the tenants of salvation. The commonality in life is many, whether you are a seed buried to produce fruit, a seed produced to replicate the master, a seed spurred to produce an economic engine or handicapped by the seed of doubt, faith is the answer. Fruit has faith it will sustain life, God has faith that man will reproduce him, and dreams have faith they will come true. To remove doubt one only needs to have the faith of a mustard seed.
Seed
Am I a seed sitting at my computer desk typing about the word "seed" representing my physical being state by the fertilization process of procreation.....?
Am I given birth and breath and a representative of my creator through the donor sperm process to become a vessel to do God's will as I venture into the paths of daily life....?
Am I a seed of truth, a seed of confusion, a seed of wisdom, a seed of trust, a seed of guidance, a seed of greed, a seed of covetness, lies, thievery, murderer.....?
Can I become a seed producer myself and what examples will my seed thrust forth....?
What in me, my DNA and the breath of my creator have to overcome for my creators spirit to excel and lead?
What am I if I have a covering to protect my essence of life until it's time to born my locked secrets for growth when I am lying dormant awaiting the rains, droppings protected from the acidic baths of stomach contents and dropped to the ground, to lie and wait for the seasons to bear.....?
Have I heard a voice that echoed in my memory chest, or spoken wisdom's and story telling that gave me a sense of confidence, nurturing and protection to endure.....?
If given guidance in turmoil and troubled times in young and old life where one may feel forsakened, but pulling on the strengths of the stories told for guidance and the intrinsic spiritual breath blown into young lungs at birth, somehow lessened our fears.....
Is also a seed covered by the blood that footsteps lead and leave across pathways and journeys.....
Seeds are wind blown, word-smithed, buried, impregnated, taught and used much like a verbs definition; action oriented.....
Of course, depending if the seed embodies life to bear....
A seed can bear fruit
A seed can procreate
A seed is a transferable thought
A seed is an intrinsic calling
A seed is a spiritual breath
It is the spirit in which we utilize and manage our seeds bank, how we broadcast them for germination in what gives us favorable circumstance, blessings and strong harvests.I just happened to be the seed with spiritual air blown and remembered as my days creep into my summer seasons, designated through the structure of my DNA to depict the image of man, fortunate enough to have a big head, two arms, two legs, ten toes, eyes, a brain a nervous system, a intake and out-take system that through it all was thought enough well in advance..........to be placed on earth, to learn and share experiences that passes on human experiences that educate, lift burdens, give testimony for others to learn from my experiences and mistakes for their survival to elevate the evolution of man, his obedience to his creator, his mentoring spirit, to show God's love and for the uplifting of human kind and the world and eco system that he resides.
What kind of seed are you planting and what will be your harvest?
Seed
A seed is life rather it be through germination or incubation. All seeds remain inactive until conditions are right for the process of life to begin. My background, my teachings, my surroundings in my formative years and my experiences seem to determine the direction of my thoughts. A seed has such value to us whether it feeds us spiritually or nourishes our bodies or adds another living, breathing soul to our earth.
I think of my life in the pecan bottom, next to Deep Fork River on sixty acres. We harvested a massive half an acre garden. A garden of this size had to be plowed by tractor; a rototiller would not get it. To plant, you had to tie a croaker sack around your neck full of seed and go down the rows dropping the seed (similar to Johnnie Appleseed pictures you have seen) while someone walked behind you with a hoe, covering the seeds. Try to imagine row after row of corn, mustard greens, potatoes, several varieties of onion, lettuce, green beans, beets, carrots, cucumbers, several varieties of watermelon, cantaloupe, tomatoes, squash, bell peppers, hot peppers and don’t forget the turnips. Imagine hoeing those rows in the summer heat! So much work with great rewards! Can you imagine the joy on our faces and the yummy in our tummies when a meal from the garden was prepared accompanied by fried pork chops, fresh from the hog you butchered last month.
Then, I think of how I am challenged to have faith each day and the strongest faith is equated to the same mustard seed that I planted for the nourishment of my body. My faith can’t grow and the mustard seed can’t grow in the garden when the conditions aren’t right. But when the conditions are right, mountains can and are moved in life’s challenges and mounds of dirt burst open to bring forth the sprouts of seed germination leading to that great pot of mustard greens.
Matthew 17:20 reads, He replied, "Because you have so little faith. I tell you the truth, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there' and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you.
I think of my life in the pecan bottom, next to Deep Fork River on sixty acres. We harvested a massive half an acre garden. A garden of this size had to be plowed by tractor; a rototiller would not get it. To plant, you had to tie a croaker sack around your neck full of seed and go down the rows dropping the seed (similar to Johnnie Appleseed pictures you have seen) while someone walked behind you with a hoe, covering the seeds. Try to imagine row after row of corn, mustard greens, potatoes, several varieties of onion, lettuce, green beans, beets, carrots, cucumbers, several varieties of watermelon, cantaloupe, tomatoes, squash, bell peppers, hot peppers and don’t forget the turnips. Imagine hoeing those rows in the summer heat! So much work with great rewards! Can you imagine the joy on our faces and the yummy in our tummies when a meal from the garden was prepared accompanied by fried pork chops, fresh from the hog you butchered last month.
Then, I think of how I am challenged to have faith each day and the strongest faith is equated to the same mustard seed that I planted for the nourishment of my body. My faith can’t grow and the mustard seed can’t grow in the garden when the conditions aren’t right. But when the conditions are right, mountains can and are moved in life’s challenges and mounds of dirt burst open to bring forth the sprouts of seed germination leading to that great pot of mustard greens.
Matthew 17:20 reads, He replied, "Because you have so little faith. I tell you the truth, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there' and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you.
Friday, September 4, 2009
Pennies
Society has overlooked us for hundreds of years. We have been set aside, castigated deemed worthless. You can walk by us and never even look at us, loved only by the very young as their minds have not yet been corrupted by the prejudices of their parents. Our self worth tied up in your emotional baggage, your value system. Unable to break away from systems that devalue us, we only have each other. Tied together by a common bond we stand alone in our hope of meaning more to people. Our self loathing made more apparent because we are darker than the others, therefore less important not as valuable.
For decades our very existence has been the topic of discussion, so under valued we do not even warrant a place in the future. Our future is bleak, for no one wants us to be around. You will find hundreds of us in the lower income stores, ghetto’s, on the street corners, still perpetuating the welfare mentality as our brothers and sisters are easy to get. Used up and thrown away like trash we feel dirty, could you have at least used the Vaseline? Show us some love, we are worth something are we not? Time has tarnished us, rubbed us raw, you have finally broken us, denigrated with nothing left we live under bridges, in shelters, on the cold streets, in subways, and we ride in buses to pass the time just to feel something again. In those buses we can mingle with the pretty ones, the light skinned ones, the ones deemed more valuable.
For hundreds of years we have wanted to be apart of something, something other than being bottled up together and used as a last resort. We have wanted the same things as the others, respect, dignity, to feel like we are worth something, to feel like we deserve to coexist with the lighter skinned ones. Unfortunately we will probably be extinct in the next 50 years because we can not survive alone. However, we will be prominently displayed in the national archives, the local museums, forms of rare art. What a future we have to look forward to, knowing we won’t be around long gives us a sense of freedom, we can live despite ourselves. We can live life to the fullest because we are free. Free to imagine, free exploring the essence of life, free to be free. We can remain in that bottle and know that all we have is each other. We can ride in that bus with the pretty ones and know that although we may not be as valued as they are, we will go down in history as one of a kind. From 1793 to present we have been called different things. We do not like being called 97.5% zinc core, 2.5% copper plating, we prefer the OG, just plan old copper. By the way, the pretty ones may believe they are worth more, but they either run in fours, tens, and twenties, they can not compete, for all we have is each other and all of them separate equal the same as us. We are the one hundred, yes the very same….. $1.00. (In pennies)
For decades our very existence has been the topic of discussion, so under valued we do not even warrant a place in the future. Our future is bleak, for no one wants us to be around. You will find hundreds of us in the lower income stores, ghetto’s, on the street corners, still perpetuating the welfare mentality as our brothers and sisters are easy to get. Used up and thrown away like trash we feel dirty, could you have at least used the Vaseline? Show us some love, we are worth something are we not? Time has tarnished us, rubbed us raw, you have finally broken us, denigrated with nothing left we live under bridges, in shelters, on the cold streets, in subways, and we ride in buses to pass the time just to feel something again. In those buses we can mingle with the pretty ones, the light skinned ones, the ones deemed more valuable.
For hundreds of years we have wanted to be apart of something, something other than being bottled up together and used as a last resort. We have wanted the same things as the others, respect, dignity, to feel like we are worth something, to feel like we deserve to coexist with the lighter skinned ones. Unfortunately we will probably be extinct in the next 50 years because we can not survive alone. However, we will be prominently displayed in the national archives, the local museums, forms of rare art. What a future we have to look forward to, knowing we won’t be around long gives us a sense of freedom, we can live despite ourselves. We can live life to the fullest because we are free. Free to imagine, free exploring the essence of life, free to be free. We can remain in that bottle and know that all we have is each other. We can ride in that bus with the pretty ones and know that although we may not be as valued as they are, we will go down in history as one of a kind. From 1793 to present we have been called different things. We do not like being called 97.5% zinc core, 2.5% copper plating, we prefer the OG, just plan old copper. By the way, the pretty ones may believe they are worth more, but they either run in fours, tens, and twenties, they can not compete, for all we have is each other and all of them separate equal the same as us. We are the one hundred, yes the very same….. $1.00. (In pennies)
Pennies
Remember when. I love to say that because I remember when, you could purchase a piece of bubble gum, or an apple jolly rancher, a banana beich (with jokes printed inside the wrapper), or the little striped candy with the peanut butter for only a penny a piece.
A penny for your thoughts! What a small price to pay for something so valuable-imagine only one penny for your thoughts? There are so many of these adages in our history and we find ourselves repeating them, and believing them. For instance, don't pick up a penny if it's not "heads up," it will bring bad luck. How can finding money be bad luck when every penny counts? But yet, we follow the adage for fear that it might just be true. I'm guilty. The fear of bad luck can actually out-weigh common sense especially when myths and old wives tales were commonplace in your upbringing. And no matter how hard you try to ignore them, somehow they become engraved in your memory usually accompanied by a rhyme.
Pennies are so often stepped over, dropped and never picked up because it's just a penny or melted into the asphalt from being driven over time and time again. This is one item that the initial value is insignificant but over time came bring great rewards. Just think if you had picked up every penny you've stepped over, dropped and ignored, or refused to pick up because it wasn't heads up, you would have increased assets right now because of pennies.
A penny for your thoughts! What a small price to pay for something so valuable-imagine only one penny for your thoughts? There are so many of these adages in our history and we find ourselves repeating them, and believing them. For instance, don't pick up a penny if it's not "heads up," it will bring bad luck. How can finding money be bad luck when every penny counts? But yet, we follow the adage for fear that it might just be true. I'm guilty. The fear of bad luck can actually out-weigh common sense especially when myths and old wives tales were commonplace in your upbringing. And no matter how hard you try to ignore them, somehow they become engraved in your memory usually accompanied by a rhyme.
Pennies are so often stepped over, dropped and never picked up because it's just a penny or melted into the asphalt from being driven over time and time again. This is one item that the initial value is insignificant but over time came bring great rewards. Just think if you had picked up every penny you've stepped over, dropped and ignored, or refused to pick up because it wasn't heads up, you would have increased assets right now because of pennies.
Pennies
Many times homeless, cold, overheated and ignored in various places I reside...
Lying on the streets, in ash trays, jars, baskets and between cusions I hide...
Defaced and reduced in size to cheat vending machines...
Filed, glued, soldered for designing jewelery and rings...
Imprisioned in strait jacket wrappers, captured in banks and coffee cans...
My worth only in numbers when I'm moved from hundreds to grands...
Walked over and being picked up depends...
On the lying position I'm in...
If found on the streets with my back side showing...
Face up, many times I'm taken on a journey, my face is glowing...
Because acts of superstitions can leave me to the treasure seekers wand...
It is then that my fragrance is not of paper but metals of copper and bronze...
When my posse of the homeless, hidden, imprisioned, ignored and ash tray kins...
Are gathered to purchase prosthetic devices and such through pledges for the Charitable event for Jerry Lewis' kids and friends...
Though I am small to Wall Street in a dollar amount...
My total contribution when collected abundantly enriches an account...
A pennies journey is ultimately to be wrapped in dollar bundles and from and old school thought to remind...
Use of the old cliche, and the thought "A penny for your thoughts" today could mean, I could buy some people's mind...
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Pencil
Life sustaining to words of love 365 days a year I feel the tug of need from, oh, so many people. This has to be what Barack Obama is feeling....doesn't it?
How can I, a pencil, so thin, so fragile serve all people and serve them well, because even I break at times, even I run out of eraser at times, even more so in times of uncertainty. This has to be what Barack Obama is thinking....doesn't it?
My existence began over 200 years ago. And just think; I have served the needs of communication of my people tirelessly and futuristically. Not just in poetry or words of encouragement, but life sustaining matters of finance and well being. This has to be the focus of Barack Obama over the next eight years....doesn't it?
During the historical days, weeks, months and years ahead I will gather all my inner strength and resolve to stand firm, without breaking, ready to serve with, Barack Obama, as he embarks on the journey to lead this country back from the depths of financial and socialistic despair. This has to be what Barack Obama would expect from me....doesn't it?
How can I, a pencil, so thin, so fragile serve all people and serve them well, because even I break at times, even I run out of eraser at times, even more so in times of uncertainty. This has to be what Barack Obama is thinking....doesn't it?
My existence began over 200 years ago. And just think; I have served the needs of communication of my people tirelessly and futuristically. Not just in poetry or words of encouragement, but life sustaining matters of finance and well being. This has to be the focus of Barack Obama over the next eight years....doesn't it?
During the historical days, weeks, months and years ahead I will gather all my inner strength and resolve to stand firm, without breaking, ready to serve with, Barack Obama, as he embarks on the journey to lead this country back from the depths of financial and socialistic despair. This has to be what Barack Obama would expect from me....doesn't it?
Monday, August 31, 2009
Pencil
Externally, I am wood. Carved from trees and shaved into a long, smoothed out utencil that is easy to hold with the hand of a human being. Internally, I am lead. A soft but heavy metal that is liquified and made to fit into the prepared wooden frame. Sharpen my tip and I am ready to use. I know I sound simple but what it takes to make me is not so simple. There are many steps in my creation.
Before my existence, my state was rock-like and I could be used to make markings on other, more solid types of surfaces. Before technological intelligence modified my state, I was the Leader of anything that had to be written from the thought or idea of a human being. The smarter the humans got, the better my physical being became. Lots of things were written and not able to be taken back once written, so to fix this mistake, I was then assembled with an eraser to clear the image.
As time and humans evolved, so did I. I have came such a long way from making markings on cave walls during the beginning of mankind to writing rough drafts for the Presidents speeches. Now, rarely used, I remain humble with the knowledge that I Am the Leader and first element to create history on paper. I drew the blueprints for the buildings and homes that we obtain. I drew the blueprints for the roads you travel. I wrote the laws that you abide by. I made history, literally.
I have now been replaced with computers, keyboards, text messaging, and cellular phones but I can say that the children still love me. They use me and my many colors that I come in to create what their learning minds are pondering.
FYI, Lead also makes bullets. So when you use me to write, think of your word as your ammunition. To my people who still use me..... Write On.
PENCIL
Andre Reed
Before my existence, my state was rock-like and I could be used to make markings on other, more solid types of surfaces. Before technological intelligence modified my state, I was the Leader of anything that had to be written from the thought or idea of a human being. The smarter the humans got, the better my physical being became. Lots of things were written and not able to be taken back once written, so to fix this mistake, I was then assembled with an eraser to clear the image.
As time and humans evolved, so did I. I have came such a long way from making markings on cave walls during the beginning of mankind to writing rough drafts for the Presidents speeches. Now, rarely used, I remain humble with the knowledge that I Am the Leader and first element to create history on paper. I drew the blueprints for the buildings and homes that we obtain. I drew the blueprints for the roads you travel. I wrote the laws that you abide by. I made history, literally.
I have now been replaced with computers, keyboards, text messaging, and cellular phones but I can say that the children still love me. They use me and my many colors that I come in to create what their learning minds are pondering.
FYI, Lead also makes bullets. So when you use me to write, think of your word as your ammunition. To my people who still use me..... Write On.
PENCIL
Andre Reed
Friday, August 28, 2009
Pencil
An object made of wood, lead, a crown that encases a rubber piece which is called an eraser by most.....
An object quite parallel in design in structure to that of the human anatomy without the leg and arm appendages, but the pencil does have the ability to walk in writing, when not in use lay dormant until placed in operation by authors bearing thoughts and visions.....
An object for which ideas, thoughts and emotions are transferred by the authors mind and hand.....
A pencil is harmless when dormant, just as the gun.....
Its in who and how we use it for it to be deadly, cause injury or fun.....
A pencil can be held and caressed by the gentleness of mental calm and stand.....
Or snapped in two by sudden emotional outbursts, a non cooperative spirit or an insensitive demand.....
So small in stature, yet can change the world's view with a signature, relationships, soothe, attack, calm, make funnies by the oodles.....
Or just make character faces and scribble abstract doodles.....
It transfers thoughts to paper where text messaging now rules, I've heard No adjectives for descriptions, just symbols for brevity of words.....
They are used to break the silence, express mental clarity or disturbances on matters of gridlock or impasse.....
We can throw daggers when expressing emotional turmoil, mentally abuse and engage to destroy from a hate mode or mischief play.....
Yet, ball the paper in after thought, I really don't feel that way.....it's the vices of drugs, lying and improper conduct controlling the pencils sway.....
The canvas from which the pencil writes is from the minds eye of the holder, whether your dark sides, spiritual sides, artistic sides, relationship sides, you control the flow of your environment through your pencils pressure, hopefully no lead breaks.....
In times when our pencils seem erratic and careless with works and words that harm and stunt our growth.....
We refresh the leads dull edge by re-sharpening, look to the erasers tips.....
To erase the negative turmoil within the author and reduce the Freudian slips.....
The pencil colors are many, bright, joyous and loving I find.....but
Without the lead (heart) no spiritual covering (wood) and the lack of the eraser (forgiveness) doeth we waste a perfectly good pencil and mind.....
An object quite parallel in design in structure to that of the human anatomy without the leg and arm appendages, but the pencil does have the ability to walk in writing, when not in use lay dormant until placed in operation by authors bearing thoughts and visions.....
An object for which ideas, thoughts and emotions are transferred by the authors mind and hand.....
A pencil is harmless when dormant, just as the gun.....
Its in who and how we use it for it to be deadly, cause injury or fun.....
A pencil can be held and caressed by the gentleness of mental calm and stand.....
Or snapped in two by sudden emotional outbursts, a non cooperative spirit or an insensitive demand.....
So small in stature, yet can change the world's view with a signature, relationships, soothe, attack, calm, make funnies by the oodles.....
Or just make character faces and scribble abstract doodles.....
It transfers thoughts to paper where text messaging now rules, I've heard No adjectives for descriptions, just symbols for brevity of words.....
They are used to break the silence, express mental clarity or disturbances on matters of gridlock or impasse.....
We can throw daggers when expressing emotional turmoil, mentally abuse and engage to destroy from a hate mode or mischief play.....
Yet, ball the paper in after thought, I really don't feel that way.....it's the vices of drugs, lying and improper conduct controlling the pencils sway.....
The canvas from which the pencil writes is from the minds eye of the holder, whether your dark sides, spiritual sides, artistic sides, relationship sides, you control the flow of your environment through your pencils pressure, hopefully no lead breaks.....
In times when our pencils seem erratic and careless with works and words that harm and stunt our growth.....
We refresh the leads dull edge by re-sharpening, look to the erasers tips.....
To erase the negative turmoil within the author and reduce the Freudian slips.....
The pencil colors are many, bright, joyous and loving I find.....but
Without the lead (heart) no spiritual covering (wood) and the lack of the eraser (forgiveness) doeth we waste a perfectly good pencil and mind.....
Pencil
For generations I stood tall providing life to the earth. Whether I stood alone or in the company of many I did what was required of me. For God gave me several missions in life, I provided air to breathe, shade for the worker, shelter to God’s creatures, the American Dream if your credit was good enough. For centuries I stood my post and did not complain. At times I was greeted by sparrows, hawks, eagles, panthers, and strange life forms called mankind. Though mankind was birth at my feet I never dreamed I would give birth to so much.
Standing tall through eternity, I was struck down by mankind dismayed at first, for I knew not what was in store for me. Agony befell me as the metal teeth ripped through me, my brown tears falsely named sap poured down my body. God for what did I do to not enjoy recompense for standing tall, shading your prized creation, housing that which you loved, covering that which created in six days. Falling for what seemed like eternity I hit the ground and was stripped of my covering. Once pinched I traveled down stream to meet my end, my life no longer meaningful. Traveling with my eyes looking toward heaven I hear a horrible grinding sound, a sawing sound. I scream out as my body is being grinded away. Oh the pain, Lord why have thou forsaken me, I stood tall for generations shading your prized creation, housing that which you loved, covering that which you created in six days now it comes to this. I feel the blackness overcome me, maybe if I just sleep.
I open my eyes once again and see this funny clear substance before me what the… Lord I am grateful for your mercy for you have given me my reprieve. Where is the sky I stood tall in for generations? What are the things with the no.2 written on them and why do they surround me? How long have I been sleep? My god, how has man grown, even the young are bigger than I. What is this red thing on my head, why has my trunk been made into a black point? Where did this metal crown come from, Lord what has thou seen fit to provide me this day?
For generations I stood tall providing life to the earth. Whether I stood alone or in the company of many I did what was required of me. For God gave me several missions in life, I provided air to breathe, shade for the worker, shelter to God’s creatures, the American Dream if your credit was good enough. For centuries I stood my post and did not complain. At times I was greeted by sparrows, hawks, eagles, panthers, and strange life forms called mankind. Though mankind was birth at my feet I never dreamed I would give birth to so much. What now is required of me? I am now one billionth my former self?
How man has grown, now you cover me, direct my path. What is this strange motion you have me do? Ahhh, I remember when God first shared his word with me, you are writing. Thank you Lord, I see how thou has blessed me. I save lives now; brothers now use me to express their anger and not guns. Countries use me to make peace concrete. God used me so you may partake in his word. Mankind used me to share their hearts and minds, express them selves in word. Utilized me to educate their young. Thank you God, I am The Pencil.
Standing tall through eternity, I was struck down by mankind dismayed at first, for I knew not what was in store for me. Agony befell me as the metal teeth ripped through me, my brown tears falsely named sap poured down my body. God for what did I do to not enjoy recompense for standing tall, shading your prized creation, housing that which you loved, covering that which created in six days. Falling for what seemed like eternity I hit the ground and was stripped of my covering. Once pinched I traveled down stream to meet my end, my life no longer meaningful. Traveling with my eyes looking toward heaven I hear a horrible grinding sound, a sawing sound. I scream out as my body is being grinded away. Oh the pain, Lord why have thou forsaken me, I stood tall for generations shading your prized creation, housing that which you loved, covering that which you created in six days now it comes to this. I feel the blackness overcome me, maybe if I just sleep.
I open my eyes once again and see this funny clear substance before me what the… Lord I am grateful for your mercy for you have given me my reprieve. Where is the sky I stood tall in for generations? What are the things with the no.2 written on them and why do they surround me? How long have I been sleep? My god, how has man grown, even the young are bigger than I. What is this red thing on my head, why has my trunk been made into a black point? Where did this metal crown come from, Lord what has thou seen fit to provide me this day?
For generations I stood tall providing life to the earth. Whether I stood alone or in the company of many I did what was required of me. For God gave me several missions in life, I provided air to breathe, shade for the worker, shelter to God’s creatures, the American Dream if your credit was good enough. For centuries I stood my post and did not complain. At times I was greeted by sparrows, hawks, eagles, panthers, and strange life forms called mankind. Though mankind was birth at my feet I never dreamed I would give birth to so much. What now is required of me? I am now one billionth my former self?
How man has grown, now you cover me, direct my path. What is this strange motion you have me do? Ahhh, I remember when God first shared his word with me, you are writing. Thank you Lord, I see how thou has blessed me. I save lives now; brothers now use me to express their anger and not guns. Countries use me to make peace concrete. God used me so you may partake in his word. Mankind used me to share their hearts and minds, express them selves in word. Utilized me to educate their young. Thank you God, I am The Pencil.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
The Spark(s) of Life
Brother beloved, yet unloved. Disliked but accepted, after all he is married to my sister. One of the most gifted brothers I have come across but talent wasted, his mouth gets in his way. His ego bruised is damaging to the love of my sister. Upon reflection, what is it exactly that makes me dislike this brother? Perhaps I see the younger me. The me of nearly twenty years ago, my brother is behind the times of maturation but he will be fine. Life giver, love stealer, his gift is evident to all but himself. Focused energy on the negative aspects of love, loyalty and family keeps his household in disarray, but what can I say, he is the younger me. Lies and innuendo are his power; love of self is his kryptonite. Yet my sister loves his dirty draws. Perhaps that love is warranted, but from her big brother’s eyes it is not merited. But what can I say, he is the younger me.
Hmmm, oh I see, that it can be that gift is useful to all that be because he will no longer be the younger me. Perhaps my sisters love will pull him through, man him up, make him better, man can that be, no longer the younger me. The Spark(s) of life has given my sister joy at times, but pain has always followed, guess what it is a new year. Focused energy on the negative aspects of love, loyalty and family forever changed. Builder of hopes and dreams he shall become. That gift now realized and placed into action makes him endure the burdens of being the man while also being the comforter and blanket of security. Dirty draws now clean still very much loved by my sister.
Brother beloved, now loved and very much respected, more than accepted, after all he is married to my sister, why would it be any other way? On this day, I say, much love little brother, glad you came our way. Keep the Q smiling is all I will say.
God bless this day, no longer the younger me I pray!
Hmmm, oh I see, that it can be that gift is useful to all that be because he will no longer be the younger me. Perhaps my sisters love will pull him through, man him up, make him better, man can that be, no longer the younger me. The Spark(s) of life has given my sister joy at times, but pain has always followed, guess what it is a new year. Focused energy on the negative aspects of love, loyalty and family forever changed. Builder of hopes and dreams he shall become. That gift now realized and placed into action makes him endure the burdens of being the man while also being the comforter and blanket of security. Dirty draws now clean still very much loved by my sister.
Brother beloved, now loved and very much respected, more than accepted, after all he is married to my sister, why would it be any other way? On this day, I say, much love little brother, glad you came our way. Keep the Q smiling is all I will say.
God bless this day, no longer the younger me I pray!
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Duality of Love
What does it take to love someone? What does it mean to love someone? At what lengths must one go to show they love someone? What affect does ones tradition, pride, stubbornness, and selfishness have on love? In the end is losing the one you love worth those things? Is it necessary to always be right, or always stand your ground if it kills love? How much does something you want from a person mean, rather than what that person means to you? Is it worth it? Too many times love is lost due to the idea of something and not the reality of something. What is your idea of love? What is the reality of the love you have for each other? In the spans of time there has only been one perfect person, and realizing that none of us is Jesus, we should not be looking for such perfection.
Some people may think of you as weak, or not being man enough as it pertains to your wife, but does your pride mean more to you than the love you have for your wife? Do you pick the battles necessary to fight or do you just choose to fight at any cost? Choose the former and not the latter. Compromise can sometimes be hard, even difficult, but love sometimes means doing something the other person wants even when you do not want to. Are you the man of the house I think so, do you need to prove that to anyone, I think not.
Giving of oneself, does not mean you are a door mat, or you are less of a person because you place the person you love ahead of yourself. After all, isn’t that what love is? God so loved the world he gave his only begotten son, if God can place us in front of himself, what then, is expected of us?
Does being separate make you feel better? Are you better off alone than together? What kind of team can you be if you can get past the small stuff?
I hope you find out.
Some people may think of you as weak, or not being man enough as it pertains to your wife, but does your pride mean more to you than the love you have for your wife? Do you pick the battles necessary to fight or do you just choose to fight at any cost? Choose the former and not the latter. Compromise can sometimes be hard, even difficult, but love sometimes means doing something the other person wants even when you do not want to. Are you the man of the house I think so, do you need to prove that to anyone, I think not.
Giving of oneself, does not mean you are a door mat, or you are less of a person because you place the person you love ahead of yourself. After all, isn’t that what love is? God so loved the world he gave his only begotten son, if God can place us in front of himself, what then, is expected of us?
Does being separate make you feel better? Are you better off alone than together? What kind of team can you be if you can get past the small stuff?
I hope you find out.
Opening Act
Lets talk. I am creating this blog to share some of the things I think about. How I deliver them will differ. Whether it be in the form of poetry, topic discussion, or just long winded prose, I want to take you to another level of thinking and get your point of view. Some of the things I say will be from my life experiences, while others may be my creative juices flowing. In either case, I hope it is thought provoking, honest, and most of all respectful. While we may not always agree, I promise to listen, share my honest opinion and agree to disagree when no common ground can be reached. In the end, lets open our minds to different points of view and keep the discussion flowing.
God Bless
Keith
God Bless
Keith
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