Posted in Poetry, short fiction

Black Cloud

From a distance life remains unfocused.  It runs together to form one big massive clot. 

Oh! how double minded
lazily lying
slumbering thoughts
on the horizon.

She had to know what comprised the cloud that danced tragically upon the firmament.  As she approached the acrobatic figure,  she noticed the birds keeping time with the neighbors coming and goings.

Something was amiss.  Realizing her deceased mother had been gone for years, recalling moments with her, most of which were miserable, drew tears.  The black sunk her for days, growing rage and madness within.

A cloud
moves erratically,
up and down
but always forward. 

She chased the black cloud, hoping he would hear her, wondering if he willingly listened, all the while imagining what their encounter would look like when she finally lied down.

 In sync
he led,
she followed.

They met in time.

The open road invited Dave to take a chance.  What did he have to lose?  Rocking in the passenger seat, he watched the terrified girl he had picked up slowly disappear inward.  Her anguished sobs rolled from her soul as thunder in the east and lightening in the west.

Still, Dave believed in the crisp autumn air.  His silent apprehension tried abandoning the war.  He watched the sun rays reflect off the asphalt and relished the warmth filtering in through the windshield, enough to bring a sweat.  He had thoughts of rolling down the windows but she kept him from doing that.   

Ecclesiastes 11:10 So then, banish anxiety from your heart and cast off the troubles of your body, for youth and vigor are meaningless.

 

Posted in Advice, Poetry, Sermons

Politicians or how politics ruins lives.

mob mentality
sore excuse for apathy
men of paradox

who has benefited
perfected long-winded speeches
perch themselves on high

as a bird prepares
to feast on the spread breadcrumbs
backroom deals explode

to swing the masses
sweet symphony of promise
heads rest on concrete

wake up foreign land
who can recognize the men
dangling superimposed sin

extract faith from souls
filling the cold voting booth
hollow corpses roam

men expressing hope
lie in bed expecting them
to make life better

Reading Why Orwell Matters by Christopher Hitchens, I cannot say I understand why he matters. Orwell’s two famous stories, 1984 and Animal Farm, lie as mob fancy.  The end of the impact becomes bookshelf mementos, intellectuals praise the words with the weight of politics upon the backs of citizens.Pacifism and all isms, government intervention, religion as tools for politics, war and rumors of war to incite fear, the looming globalists usurping nation sovereignty. We must ask why. Why does evil prowl for heads resting on concrete, eating breadcrumbs spread, oblivious to their suffering, not understanding the promises of peace, acceptance and ease of life is but a lie. No one can make such promises and succeed. Life is friction. Lying low can be useful for a time. Friction between ideas and worldviews professes an uprising is never far behind.

“The most effective way to destroy people is to deny and obliterate their own understanding of their history.”
George Orwell

“Political language is designed to make lies sound truthful and murder respectable, and to give an appearance of solidity to pure wind. ”
George Orwell

So perhaps Orwell does matter. He should matter to the average man to take heed. Read between the lines and notice the message from both media and the scripted words made to comply with the feelings of the mob. The mob who lies in apathy waiting for a savior. In my estimation the wrong savior. The truth shall appear and it grows ever near. Perhaps someday the wishes of many will materialize and such a utopia will exist.

Read. Read more than what you want to hear and know and understand. Take to the edge of any bridge, do not jump but feel what cannot be seen, the invisible wall keeps you safe.

Then learn to fly. Fly.

I certainly have my beliefs and rather not coerce or convert you to my way of thinking but encourage you, do, think. Act. Find truth.

Posted in Photography, Poetry

Son

Listen!
Lion-heartedness
thunderous roar,
deafening echoes
piercing the plains
pulsating.

Dare
to face the wind
the breeze, excitability
blue and green
raged away
blessed courage.

Grown
I witness each step
turn to running
patience in suffering
a force
to be reckoned with.

When
I am gone
no matter how
remember me
I pray
restrain your fear.

Ride
upon the King’s
mane tight in your fingers
fortitude sweeps away
the very self-given unto God
a martyr for the weak.