Such Knowledge Is Too Wonderful For Me!
O LORD, you have examined my heart and You know everything about me! You know when I sit down or stand up. You know my every thought before I do! You chart the path ahead of me and tell me where to stop and rest. Every single moment You know where I am. You know what I am going to say even before I say it, LORD! You both precede me and follow me. You place your hand of blessing on my head. Such knowledge it too wonderful for me! I cannot totally grasp it. If I go up to heaven, You are there! If I go down to the place of the dead, You are there! If I ride the wings of the morning, if I dwell by the farthest oceans, even there Your hand will guide me, and your strength will support me!
I See The Boys Of Donkeyland 1960s
I see the boys of Cayuga Street, it is summer (it is in the early sixties) They are sitting on the steps of the neighborhood- grocery store (in the evening it will be the church steps). There is the heat of the summer winds They are talking about the neighborhood girls, chewing on green apples from Old Man Brandt's backyard. These boys of the neighborhood, called Donkeyland by the police, are curds in their recklessness? Sweet and sour, like honey on fire; The jacks of folly, with fingers like bees Here in the summer's sun, they sneak under bridges, catch pigeons, scale the beams no doubt, even in the dark they feed their nerves.
Mrs O Day s Dinning Room A Poem On Mental Disturbances Days of Tears Tarnish
Mrs. O'Day's Dinning Room She's no beginner In her elaborate sequels To do herself harm Suicide or spite She could fool the best With her hidden sickness (passive dependence, Manic edge, borderline Schizophrenic -eyes cocked) Now bobbing back and forth In an armchair (full of medicine) Locking the doors behind her In fear of shadows and the weird. When she's all there She's always the new woman; She used to be, pretty As pretty can be, Now fat and aging Carefully she hammered Herself out like that... Slowly, slowly, so men would Avoid her, leave her be; She knew she was breakable Too brittle to live among the Malice and mad, the crooks And the deceivers, I say- Too brittle, as old ceramic.
How to Divorce a Devil - Overcoming Hurt, Emotional Pain, Domestic Abuse
How shall one fully divorce a devil? First wholeheartedly divorce the demon Rooted and dwelling deeply in you The evil spirit that ought not to Give you uncontrollable impulses Vicious anger and rage beyond restraint Foul verbosity that from gentleness deviates Devours, destroys, degrades, and denigrates The humanity within the object of your affection. Oh, but you say, they deserve it because... Is that so? Do we overcome evil with evil? Or do we overcome evil with loving-kindness? Conquer evil with good, the way life should Be happily lived, tenderly loved, and laughed Through whenever we go through tribulations Trials, torment, and circumstantial pressure Far above and beyond our own ability to control When we relinquish control, we can begin to Take peace, experience release, and be whole Relax and fully regain what the devil from us stole.
Marriage - Be Right or Reconciled, Fighting or Forgiving, Leaving or Loving?
Shall you opt and choose to Be right or be reconciled? Fight or forgive and live? Leave or choose to love? Resent or humbly repent? Positively pursue peace Or stress and strain angrily? These are the questions I urge and ask today of you With them what then will you do? Will you kick, ball, and squall Bitterly fight, flail, force, and fall Until you in humiliation crawl On your knees seeking help Forgiveness and grace For foul and vile behavior Alienating everyone else? What then will you do? Be self-righteous and defend Yourself, your right, until the end? Will you project your exalted persona Uplift yourself in self-sufficiency Choosing to live life solo entirely Removing tender hearted humanity?
Earth Day Poem - 911 Earth, A New Earth for a Less Polluted Planet - Be Conscious of Our Environment
Happy Earth day! Not just a cute cliche Wake up all you people! Get a grip on the planet Don't just use and abuse it Take time to care for it 911 earth you earthlings! Stop needlessly polluting Reusable bags for shopping At least paper over plastic Live longer by eating organic Rid your body of harmful Herbicides and pesticides Recycle glass and plastics Don't be a heartless derelict Love and think about future generations Consider children sufficient motivation If you cannot even pronounce it You might not want to stupidly use it Nor ingest or apply it on your body It's not rocket science or a weird hobby Care for thyself and the earth where you live Pick up some trash, a beautiful way to give Don't politicize or make the environment partisan There is nothing political about caring for the planet Even Pat Robertson and Al Sharpton agree on this Regardless of political ideology, a green earth is bliss Get a handy compost for your disposable leftovers The flowers in your garden will absolutely love it!
Writer s Block - The Resident Author Requests Quiet for Meditation Concentration
The one o'clock rule still applies Which it seems you often despise Therefore please afford me quietness To ensure household happiness Otherwise if you violate it more There shall soon be declared war For an author requires quiet reflection Undivided focus and concentration Free from innumerable distractions So keep the peace and prevent war When you need stuff from my office By getting it out the night before; o) I've gotten to the point of locking the door For incessant interruptions I abhor Though I love you my wife forevermore However intrusions beyond number Is the death of any skillful author Therefore if you want to enjoy the fruits Of my toil, dedication, and labor Don't stop the flow for vanity's show Don't muddy the divine river With meaningless fodder Diversions and distractions Detouring divine concentration Hindering pure and steady motivation Of course excuses are many However so too shall they be When I score a show on TV And say you can't come with me Because you continually hindered me Let this not be, alter your ways immediately Before you become the end of creativity Shutting off the divine flow within me I entreat you with all sincerity As I have done so repeatedly Tried to explain tirelessly To no avail seemingly For you don't pay attention To my requests for liberation From fruitless interruptions Mental hiccups and intrusions I humbly beseech you today Asking you to bypass your pride So you can wholeheartedly hear me Cherish and lovingly respect me And the wonderful gift God has given me.
Death Love A Strange Poetic Story of Death, Love and Blood Horror Poetry
( A poetic tale from Oakland Cemetery, In St. Paul, Minnesota, 1971) We were alone, her and I, gravediggers beyond a mound or two, several hundred yards east of us, everyone had gone, and the gates were locked at the entrance of Oakland Cemetery, (they lock the gates at 5:30 PM sharp). She had a bag; it had weight to it, She looked at me, as a wolf would to it prey, if ever faces showed imminent death, hers did! Then I noticed her crucifix was upside down, I look towards the gravediggers, they were gone, yet I could hear the sound of their last footsteps. I pulled out a flashlight from my jacket pocket, it was fall, and a chill was in the evening air, it would be dark soon, near winter, the sun has a menial task, it rises quick, and descends fast.
The Crucifixen
The decision was set, their mind was made, The governors orders the soldiers obeyed. Around him the crowd was so wildly cheering, And beside him the soldiers were mocking and jeering. With the clashes and gashes of the cat o' nine tails, His mother was crying, the air drifted her wails. They shoved him aside and they spat on his face, They laughed as they beat him, hard with a mace. They pulled out all of his beard and his hair, And they gave him a scarlet red robe to wear. With the biggest of thorns, they twisted a crown, They put it on his head, and then shoved it down. Through all of this torment, Jesus didn't say a word, Not one single sound from his lips was heard.
Some Sad, and Some Lonesome Days A Poem
Some sad, some lonesome days-; old friends dying of this and that! Some killed in the war, some waiting, some not. Kids left me long ago, no reason to return don't need me anymore. Lost a job not long ago, got sick, everyone knows felt empty, worn. Wish mother was still alive, no fake skies! So many friends turned rotten-deep in the gut, I sensed something's coming, and it did, an earthquake. Some sad, some lonesome days-; fog coming in off the ocean, summer's gone, gone for another season. Trying to stay away from arguments, fights Too old, too near the end of my plight A lot of bullies in the city, the world, everywhere, behind desks in bars and cafes-don't care hard times everywhere, that's been, kind of my life.