Truth and my omnipotent God made flesh remain the same.
My soul is disquieted for where in this life can The proclamation
The Body is dispersed, set upon with discrepancies and too much The things
Of this world which slash and tear the garment of holiness.
My help comes from the Lord! Yet I am constantly crushed and pulled
Into the pit, overcome with outside forces dwelling in High Places.
Yet, I call upon my God! Surely in these days His voice is constrained,
Quieted and my ears filter only disgust.
There is salvation and peace in my Lord, the God of heaven and earth!
Open my ears Oh Lord! Send once again the promised Helper! Oh, gentle,
Most overcoming Spirit of Truth! Silence all others, rescue me from voices
Of ungodliness and lies!
Pastor and calm my soul for it longs for your Word, the one and only Truth.
Falling into fictitious fantasy…
Sometimes hitting raked leaves…
Or knocking all breathable air away…
Finding hallucination funny
Or ghastly as mind bends
Along with body, bloody, terror.
Fearing to name the horror
Or look into its face
After all it’s
🔱 October ⚰️
Line by line
passes, encompassing the soul
in exuberant joy.
Changing life in fits and starts.
Turning, sweeping, leveling
like Autum wind,
Melding new and old
Creating a blinding image,
more beautiful and rare
than eyes like mine deserve.
in His infinite glory and faithfulness,
Pours out Grace upon Grace
Leaving me face down
in Wonder and Praise.
May you tender the shelf…
Let your lines be straight…
on reef/marsh-life and death flow in sync.
To: RSD, III
A lunar pull apart.
Born of self-same shelf.
Dig deep, Ye Pictorial Builders,
Ye Leatherneck Drivers!
One, young living coral.
Another, ancient decayed pluff.
May you tender the shelf.
Let your lines be straight.
Above the orb on reef and marsh
Life and death flow in sync.
Photographer: Tanya Ackerman
A conglomeration of black facts
in the light
a fragmented line of virile verse
Come you Huddled Masses
Lady of Liberty
Work, Live, Speak and Worship
Bang! You’re Black!
Bang! You’re Gay!
Bang! You’re Illegal!
Bang! You’re Muslim!
Bang! You’re Christian!
Bang! You’re White!
Bang! Because you are different!
In the Wake
The Huddled Masses
To Stop It.
tiny spongy tokens
rooting running things
in earth’s sweet dankness
toward its Destiny
in its own
But those who hope in the Lord
will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
they will run and not grow weary,
they will walk and not be faint.
via Florence Makes Landfall
Tides rise and fail to fall.
Again and again.
There are strange things done in the midnight sun
— Read on www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/45081/the-cremation-of-sam-mcgee
One of my favorite Ballads!