keeping an eye on you

I had my bar dream

the other night,

only this time

it was a little different,

it started out the same,

same old rundown

dimly lit,

hole in the wall bar,

with the same lowdown,

rundown,

shady characters,

sitting around drinking

god knows what;

I have this dream

quite often,

and it always seems

as if I am finally

at home,

sitting on the barstool

with all the other

losers,

but like I said,

last night

was a little different;

this guy walked by

who seemed familiar,

“Bukowski?”, I asked,

he stopped and nodded

and we started talking,

I told him he was the greatest,

which he took in stride,

I’m sure he had heard it

all before;

he wasn’t anything

like I expected him to be;

very polite

and well mannered;

when I commented on it

he just smiled and said;

“don’t believe everything you read kid,

especially if I wrote it”;

then he said;

“I’ll be keeping an eye on you”

later,

when I had been awake

for several hours

I thought;

keeping an eye on me?

what the hell did he mean

by that?

.

.

A Test

This post is a test for the person(s) in France who have been following my posts. I want to thank you for your interest. I sincerely hope you will contact me and let me know your impressions and if there is anything you find interesting about my writing. I am always curious if my writings have any kind of affect on the individuals who read them. Your feedback would be greatly appreciated. Thank you again.

WFRhoads@aol.com

even Einstein knew that

Energy can neither be created nor destroyed, only changed or altered in form – a condensation of the first law of thermodynamics, and one of the principles for Albert Einstein’s theory of relativity.

I’ve learned a few things

in this life of mine,

things that no one else knows

or takes the time to see;

for example;

I know that rock n roll

began in 1948,

in the form of a simple

country blues song

called boogie chillun,

by a man

who would influence

a whole generation,

but never get the credit

that was his due;

and I know,

that I have seen a true prophet of God

walk this earth

in the shape of a man

during my lifetime,

and that I have heard his voice

just as so many others did,

but that very few recognized him

for who he truly was,

but that someday they will;

just like all the other prophets

who came before him;

I know that this life

is not what it seems,

that it is an illusion

created to deceive and fool,

a very elaborate illusion,

but an illusion

just the same;

I know that Jesus Christ

was exactly who he said he was,

just as the words of the bible

say precisely what they mean,

and are not hiding

ancient secrets

or theological mysteries,

despite how many scholars

say they are,

that the truth is so simple

only the simple

can see it;

whether the rest of the world

wants to believe it

or not;

I know that nothing

is an accident

in this life,

that it was all planned out

from the beginning,

every detail,

every chance encounter,

that the energy

we carry inside

can never be destroyed,

only changed

or altered in form;

hell;

even Einstein knew that.
.

Rejoice

Rejoice in the Lord always.  I will say it again: Rejoice!  Let your gentleness be evident to all.  The Lord is near.  Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.  And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.                                                                                              Philippians 4: 4-7

The cold black night quietly closes in,

the pain steadily intensifies,

blinding and overwhelming,

becoming more than I think

my spirit can possibly bear,

hope slowly fades,

rage fills my mind and heart,

bitterness and anger grow,

until it feels as though

I am about to burst;

the enemy silently waits,

ready for the final kill;

then You reach out

across the long lonely miles,

using unsuspecting and unexpected messengers,

gently reminding me that You are near,

softly speaking words of encouragement,

renewing my faltering spirit,

providing new found courage,

making it possible to rise once again;

the pain begins to dissolve,

the darkness turns to light,

hope comes flooding in like a mighty river,

Your blessed peace surrounds me

like a well worn blanket,

the enemy retreats

back into the blackness

from which he came;

once more You have delivered me

from unseen traps and snares,

once more You have brought hope

where there was none to be found,

once more You have saved me

through Your never ending mercy and grace;

I will rejoice in You,

I will declare Your wondrous love,

I will praise Your holy name,

forever.

.

Through You

I come before You O Lord,

broken and corrupt,

a lowly lump of clay

ready to be shaped

by Your blessed

and holy hand;

teach me Your ways

that I may walk in them

forever,

show me Your truth

that it might be engraved

in my soul,

immerse me in Your

love and grace

that I might find life

more abundant,

shine Your light

before my eyes

that they may be blind

no more;

through You are all things made new,

through You are all things possible,

through You do we find strength,

through You do we have hope.

.

Yeshua

What words have I,

that pay honor to a King?

What gift can be given,

worthy of His name?

He who overcame,

He who defeated death forever,

He who reigns eternally,

He who is our master;

mocked and mistreated,

spit upon and reviled,

beaten and scourged,

led like a lamb to the slaughter,

sacrificed upon a tree

for our iniquities and transgressions,

resurrected from the grave

that through faith in Him

none should perish,

but all might have life;

through Him are all

things possible,

through Him are all

things made new,

to Him does all praise belong,

to Him is all glory given,

lift up His name

before all others;

Yeshua,

the Holy One of God.

.

Rimbaud

disreputable, mean, ruthless,
perverse, hateful, wretched;

this poetry,

this darkness;

a despicable cancer,

a reflection of their desire
and destruction,
greatness in the eyes of many;

all they know;

if it were mine to give,

there would be no more darkness,
no more empty promises,
no more dead ends,
childish fantasies put away forever,
swallowed up by innocent yesterdays
and intellectual tomorrows;

these vanishing dreams disappear,

washed away by burning
acidic screams,
inside this land of shadowy perpetrators,
lost within cold, black tombs
of liquid, crystal night;

somewhere beyond this edge

the horizon lies,
buried inside soulless caverns
where only fools and dead men live,
old memories rise,
tasting like tar soaked sawdust,
a glimpse into depths
they can only imagine,
a touch beyond
everything they know,
titillating, exciting,
spending all they have,
only a word away,
darkness is not hard to find;

it is the light which eludes most.

.

.

Cardiovascular Wars

changes come,

swift and unexpected

on calm, quiet, sunny days,

so transient and fragile;

nothing is permanent

except death;

and so it is,

you return home,

fresh from the cardiovascular wars,

having faced the beast

with only internal scars to show,

even though you know

one battle does not make a war,

and in the end

he always wins;

now you take your place

with all the other veterans,

watching and quietly waiting

for the next one;

as you are slowly devoured

one artery at a time.

.

Pain In The Ass

my 4 year old grandson

is a little pain in the ass,

always looking for new ways

to get in trouble,

always wanting to do

exactly that

which you don’t want

him to do;

he spent a week and a half with us

down at the shore,

the day his mom took him home

I bought him a Franklin doll

and a bag of candy;

he tore the hat off Franklin,

and when I tried to hug him goodbye

he hit me in the mouth

with the bag of candy;

now it’s real peaceful and quiet;

-

-

-

-

-

I sure do miss that little pain in the ass.
.
.

Guidos on the Boardwalk

insomnia at the beach,

what a dangerous combination,

it all comes to an end;

vacations,

dreams,

youth,

life;

in the morning

old lovers walk the beach,

holding hands

as young yuppies

ride bikes on the boardwalk,

jogging or walking very fast;

the important thing

is to look like

you’re going somewhere;

you can tell the Guido yuppies,

pulling their screaming Guido kids

in carts behind their Guido bikes,

whizzing by at 50 mph,

straight ahead,

making everyone else

watch out for them;

just a little house,

a boardwalk

and an ocean;

is that asking for too much?

.

.

Undefeated

how did it ever come down to this?

out here in this eternal emptiness

with no way back home;

what river is this?

traveling endlessly

with no distant shores in sight;

we sell our lives without a clue

what it is we are selling,

never knowing

the true value of that

which cannot be bought,

destroying all

that is not known,

never understanding silent truths

which cannot be explained,

searching for answers

without any questions;

trying so desperately to defeat that

which cannot be defeated.

.

Optimism

She hung around until the money ran out,

then she was gone,

the lights stayed on

for a couple months after that,

then they were gone too,

it’s ok,

I don’t need them anyway,

candles and my hand work

just fine;

along with a healthy imagination;

the phone still works,

(for now),

when it goes

it will be a big blow

to all the telemarketers,

they like people like me

because I listen politely

to their whole spiel

without interrupting them once,

just to hear someone else talking,

and when they ask

if I would like to order

whatever it is they are selling

I say sure, why not?

of course they always get a little pissed

when I tell them I don’t

have a credit card,

but at least they got to practice

their whole routine

without getting the phone

slammed in their ear;

so I figure they

can’t be too mad.

.

More Than I Deserve

She’s more than I deserve,

better than I could ever hope for,

a companion through times both

good and bad,

a friend until the end,

standing by my side

when no else will,

a sounding board

for the madness,

a shelter from the wind,

a sexual fantasy,

a warm summer’s dream;

riding out the storm

in Calera, Alabama,

surviving the threats

of a dark future,

always there,

overcoming fears and barriers

to be by my side;

more than I deserve.

.

Completely

In the night

I remember places

I have been,

I remember forgotten things,

small things,

things which only

You know,

and I feel Your wondrous touch,

Your magnificent mercy and grace.

All my life

You have led me

to this moment,

and now I am ready,

now I can comprehend,

now I am Yours completely,

now I will belong to You

forever.

Do not let me be a well

without water,

do not let me be a dark angry cloud

within the approaching tempest,

do not let me walk down paths

leading to death,

do not let me be pious

for piety sake,

let me be a living spring

from which all may drink,

like a mighty raging river

let Your unconditional love

flow from within,

as a brightly blazing beacon

set upon a hill for all to see,

let Your marvelous light shine forth,

fill me with the splendor

of Your precious spirit,

allow me to be a messenger

of Your glory and truth;

Jesus,

praise Your holy and beautiful name,

my King, my God, my Savior

my Everything.

.

.

Calera, Alabama

Sitting in Calera, Alabama,

the temperature outside is 17 degrees,

supposed to get down to 0 tonight,

we came south to escape the cold,

now I’m trying not to freeze to death,

hoping I can hold on until next week;

when the arctic blast

is supposed to lift;

we traveled from New Jersey

to Pensacola in December,

didn’t want to deal with

the cold and snow,

spent a month visiting

our youngest daughter

and son-in-law,

we left Pensacola

to do volunteer work

in a Nazarene district camp,

January in Calera, Alabama,

in a travel trailer;

probably not the smartest move

huh?

of course everybody says

this isn’t ‘normal’,

doesn’t usually get this cold

in the Birmingham area,

but that doesn’t help much,

as I sit here worrying

whether my water lines

are going to freeze up and break,

or whether my propane bottles

need filling,

or whether my feet are going to

get feeling back into them;

or whether Petey,

my Jack Russell Terrier,

is ever gonna take a shit again.

.

A Mountain Awaits

Somewhere a mountain awaits,

without worry,

without danger,

without fear,

only quiet simple living;

no lust,

no yearning,

no desire,

only fulfillment;

somewhere there’s a mountain,

or a desert,

or an ocean beach,

it doesn't really matter,

this flesh shall be no more,

all the baggage removed,

prison bars gone forever,

no more pain,

no more disappointment,

no more darkness,

only peace;

somewhere there’s a home

that does not fade,

a life that is not illusion,

a body that does not decay,

a world that does not crumble,

somewhere there is You.

.

.

Out On The Fringe

Out on the fringe

there are no easy roads;

they all look the same;

words become blurred,

friends become foes,

and no one knows the darkness,

no one understands the loss;

no one sees the damage;

out on the fringe

babies die before they are born,

seeds are destroyed before they

have taken root,

thorns choke

without compassion or mercy,

players die without ever

getting in the game;

everything is lost;

out on the fringe

failure is not an option,

it is a guarantee;

still there is the hope,

waiting for the change,

holding on to the possibility;

all things are possible

for You;

even this.
.
.

Seige

Outside this worn and battered fortress

the enemy patiently waits,

laying siege to these crumbling walls,

setting hidden traps and snares,

offering enticing lures and baits,

silently probing and testing,

continuously searching for

weakness and flaws;

preparing for the final assault;

within the darkness

I seek Your face,

through the long lost night

I wait for Your presence.

Rise up O mighty Lord,

defend me from unknown enemies,

free me from unseen prison bars,

fill me with Your holy fire,

bathe me in Your glorious light,

overwhelm me with Your holy spirit;

You are all that I desire,

You are all that I need;

You are the center of my hope,

You are the answer to every question;

You are all there is;

in You shall I find relief,

through You shall I overcome,

in You shall I have victory,

through You shall I be delivered;

stay with me forever,

strengthen my weakening defenses,

prepare my heart for the coming battle,

let me be triumphant in the face of defeat;

bring me home to You.

.

.

Deliver Me

Within nighttime dreams,

I walk in cold, forsaken places,

dark, dead lost places;

far beyond the reach of hope;

I listen to the suffering,

I hear the sorrow,

I feel the pain,

I know the emptiness;

they are places through which

I have walked before.

When I awake

You are there,

standing by my side,

never letting go,

never walking away,

renewing and healing me,

blessing me when I deserve nothing,

forgiving me

when I cannot forgive myself,

reminding me that without You

I can never overcome.

Deliver me O Lord

from dark, dead places,

lost and forgotten places,

hidden within the shadows of dreams;

take away the emptiness

as only You can.

Hold me now,

bathe me in Your light,

fill me with Your love,

surround me with Your glory,

let me belong to You forever,

my Savior,

my King,

my God,

my Everything.

.

.

What We Have Become

This know also, that in the last days perilous times shall come. For men shall be lovers of their own selves, covetous, boasters, proud, blasphemers, disobedient to parents, unthankful, unholy. Without natural affection, truce breakers  false accusers, incontinent, fierce, despisers of those that are good. Traitors, heady, high-minded, lovers of pleasures more than lovers of God; Having a form of godliness, but denying the power thereof: from such turn away.                                    II Timothy 3:1-5

It’s easy to mock now,

no more barriers,

no more inhibitions,

godlessness the avant-garde,

cool, hip, chic;

truth irrelevant;

poetry has become an abstraction,

a train wrecked shambles,

a self-indulgent journey into

self-imposed decadence,

the only purpose

masturbation of the mind;

without rhyme,

but more importantly,

without reason;

snotty, excitable little twits

so full of themselves they can barely walk,

let alone write about things they understand

even less,

fluffy little balls of bullshit,

stuck in the diarrhea of their words,

political correction and self-satisfaction

going hand in hand;

a religion for the masses;

everyone is a poet today,

everyone a self-made god,

everyone is okay and getting better,

everyone is capable of greatness,

everyone a master of their own fate;

it is our culture,

it is our society,

it is our psychology,

it is our national anthem;

it is what we have become.

.
.

Home (forever)

Today was Petey,

my Jack Russell terrier’s third birthday,

we took him to Pet Smart,

got him a full grooming,

bought him 2 squeaky toys

and some pet treats,

when we left he pissed

on my shoe and pant leg

in the parking lot;

my wife thought

it was very funny.

I am ready to go home,

everyday I become more and

more aware as the desire

grows stronger and stronger,

tired and sick of the daily struggle,

disgusted at the lust and greed,

worn and wearied by the inequity

and unfairness of it all,

appalled by my own inability

to overcome this fleshly prison

surrounding my every side,

slowly killing me with its constant

cravings and depravity,

ready to put my soul in the hands

of the only One who

can save me from this

life that is no life,

in this place that is no home;

I am ready;

but it is not my decision to make,

just as this life is not my life to live,

I have been bought and paid for at a price,

a price I could never afford,

with a love I cannot even fathom,

by a Master who laid His life down

that I might find the way back to my true home,

the one He has created for all who love Him;

everything I am is because of Him

everything I have belongs to Him.

.

.

Discipline, Perseverance and Other Voices of Insomnia

I never had much respect

for middle of the road,

it was always the extremes which captured

my attention,

the ones out on the edge,

pushing it right to the limit,

leaving it all on the field,

nothing held back;

this is what I admired;

most of the good ones slipped away

like killers in the night,

discipline never a strong point,

perseverance not a possibility.

I browsed through one of his ‘posthumous’

books the other day,

I almost bought it but eventually

put it back on the shelf,

the words seemed to fit but somehow

it just didn’t feel right,

it felt a little too ‘perfect’,

a bit too ‘contrived’,

more than coincidence?

I imagined his widow sitting

down at a table,

throwing a bunch of words together

whenever the bills were due,

claiming to have some secret vault

full of previously unpublished material,

then again I could imagine him

talking to her on his death bed,

giving her specific instructions:

“feed it to em slow baby,

give em a book a year,

that’s all there is

but it should be enough,

if you spread it out.”

either way

I put it back on the shelf,

I didn't want to be guilty

of supporting fraud,

I’m much too ‘clean’ for that;

much too ‘dignified’;

later I will go home,

write all these words down,

the thoughts and ideas

springing up from that short

book store glance,

wishing I had bought the book,

knowing the words really belong to him,

wondering how he knew he’d be

inside my head 16 years later,

while sitting at a kitchen table

at 4:12 in the morning.

.

.

Just Believe

Ignoring what they said, Jesus told the synagogue ruler “Don’t be afraid; Just believe.”

Mark 5:36

In the middle of the night

I awake,

gripped with fear,

overcome by the immensity,

afraid of the unknown road ahead,

thinking of all the possible dangers,

unable to control even the smallest detail,

completely inadequate and out of control,

heading on a collision course with disaster;

then I remember the places from where I have come,

all the doors that have been opened,

all the chains which have been removed,

the love and grace that has brought me to this place,

and I hear His soft, cool voice,

gently whispering in the nighttime darkness:

“Don’t be afraid, just believe.”

the fear fades away,

the doubt dissolves into nothing,

the darkness turns to light,

there is only love,

there is only Him;

and that is all that matters;

in the deepest depths,

on the highest heights,

He is there,

guiding my path,

showing the way;

the Friend who stands by my side

closer than a brother,

the King who laid down His life

that I might live;

the One who I will love

forever.
.
.

All That Matters Now

Once I could do things

most people only dream of,

I could run with the wind,

move like a cat,

hit 90 mph fastballs,

I had strength,

I had power,

things most know

nothing about,

I took it for granted,

I thought it would last forever;

now it is all gone;

now I struggle just to move,

I fight for every breath,

I strain to hold on,

I live for the next meal,

my stomach aches with every bite,

I long for the past;

I search for a way out;

life is not fair,

it does not provide justice

one way or the other,

some have more,

some have less,

some have nothing at all,

there is no guarantee,

there is no certainty,

there is no balance;

life is an illusion;

it does not matter now,

it has come,

it has gone,

all that matters now

is what comes next;

all that matters now

is You.

.

.

Champions

How can there be;

right or wrong,

good or bad,

yes and no;

every breath is unique,

every voice a beacon

by which the truth

might call;

judgment a foreign

army,

occupying a land

not of its own;

the morning begins

just as it left,

the breaking day looms ahead,

the trail bending and

unclear,

moving forward

with unsettled uncertainty;

there is very little choice;

illusion remains,

weaving its way into

the fabric of the myth,

mystery hovers like

a descending bird,

with death lying in wait;

mourning the only light

ever known;

I watch these children,

they have more than what

could be considered

humanly possible,

giants in a forest

of dwarfs,

victors in a

world of defeat;

champions amidst

the obscurity.

.

.

Going Back

It’s never easy going back,

turning around in mid-stream,

fighting the swiftly flowing current,

it can take every ounce of energy

you possess;

it can be a very painful process.

You’re forced to relive

all the mistakes,

all the missed opportunities,

all the ‘shit’ that

could have been,

should have been;

it’s not something I recommend

anybody try.

Bad things can happen

when you turn around,

unexpected things,

unforeseen things;

things that would have been better

left undone;

things that should be left in their

rotting, shallow graves.

.

.

Mystery

Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. Put on the full armor of God so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.                                                                                 Ephesians 6:10-12

there is a mystery here,

whispering through the swaying trees,

singing over the silent rocks,

flowing with the mountain stream,

gathering in the darkening clouds;

all around the battle rages,

quietly waiting,

unseen, unknown,

beyond sight,

beyond touch;

beyond understanding.;

cool, gray December skies,

dull, hazy, sun,

Friday afternoon school bus,

delivering mediocrity and weekend misery,

never quite sure,

fading within the moving shadows,

rising from the wavering depths;

I remember it well;

slaves to what we see,

what we hear, what we feel,

all the time seeing nothing,

hearing nothing,

feeling nothing,

mirrors and smoking guns,

illusions and disappearing truths,

cheap parlor tricks played out

on slick talking talk shows,

here today,

gone tomorrow,

the war never ends;

the enemy never sleeps;

there is a mystery here,

it remains long after the screams

have all died and slipped away.

.

.

A Time for Everything

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven: a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build, a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance, a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, a time to embrace and a time to refrain, a time to search and a time to give up, a time to keep and a time to throw away, a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and a time to speak, a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace.  What does the worker gain from his toil? I have seen the burden God has laid on men. He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the hearts of men; yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end. I know that there is nothing better for men than to be happy and do good while they live. That everyone may eat and drink, and find satisfaction in all his toil – this is the gift of God. I know that everything God does will endure forever; nothing can be added to it and nothing taken from it. God does it so that men will revere him

Ecclesiastes 3:1-14

No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels or demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.                                                                                                           Romans 8:37-38

In the early morning silence

You softly speak,

revealing mysteries and truths

I cannot fathom,

surpassing all my understanding,

that Your ways are not my ways,

that Your thoughts are not my thoughts,

that You are the vine

and I am just the branch,

that all my ideas,

all my words,

are nothing without You..

There is a time for everything,

a time to be born,

a time to die,

everything You do

endures forever,

nothing can be added to it,

nothing can be taken from it,

death does not end it;

nothing shall separate us

from Your love.

.

.

Power

For the kingdom of God is not in word, but in power. I Corinthians 4:20 (KJV)

For the kingdom of God is not a matter of talk but of power. I Corinthians 4:20 (NIV)

For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. 1 Corinthians 13:12

Your power is beyond all

that this world can comprehend,

like a philosophy or psychology

we try to minimize who You really are,

sweeping You under man-made rugs,

placing You inside man-made boxes,

trying to restrain You with man-made

laws and traditions,

never understanding,

never knowing,

never able to fully acknowledge,

that everything we are,

everything we know,

exists only by Your

unfathomable mercy and grace,

through the unlimited power

of Your Word alone,

that every breath taken is a gift,

which can never be repaid;

through Your power

I am given a taste of a world

free from sin,

a world of love and hope,

stripped of all its suffering and fear;

without hate,

without lust,

without greed;

through Your power

I begin to understand,

through the Holy Spirit

I start to see,

a world which my mind

cannot fully grasp,

an indescribable place

prepared from the beginning

for those who love You,

a world that leaves me humbled,

perfect and pure,

beyond words,

without compare,

a world where I can only

fall down before You

and whisper;

my Lord,

my Master,

my King;

my Everything.

.

.

Verdict

What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun.                                                                        Ecclesiastes 1:9

“This is the verdict: Light has come into the world, but men loved darkness instead of light because their deeds were evil.”                               John 3:19

Everyday I prepare for battle,

everyday I fight the fight,

some days I win,

some days I lose;

some days I barely break even;

we talk of change,

we hope for a better way,

but at the end of the day

everything remains the same;

there is nothing new under the sun;

we are what we are

because we choose to be,

unable to be anything else,

shadows, disappearing with

the noon day sun,

fodder flailing in the wind,

failing and re-failing,

facsimiles wasting away

like rotting refuse;

guilty as charged;

where does it all end,

where does it all begin,

like a mighty, rolling river,

flowing from here to there,

without reason,

without rhyme;

where does it all end?

Do not leave me here

in this land of dying corpses,

breathe new life into my lungs,

restore the light before my eyes,

pull me from this drowning world;

bring me home to You.

.

.

final stand

When I look up and see the green mountain tops, I am home. When I cross the James River and look down on its mighty flowing waters, I am home. When I feel the cool breeze blowing across the valley floor, I am home. And when I realize that this is only a taste of the home to come, merely a shadow of that which You have prepared for those who love You, I am left humbled beyond words or comprehension. Thank you Lord. 

at last the sun begins to set,

the night does approach,

and it is here by your side

where I shall face

all that it has to bring,

it is here where I shall make

my final stand;

no more running,

no more hiding,

no more interference,

no more pretending;

no more fear;

traveling the miles and years

without understanding or direction,

without purpose or clarity,

once again the bullshit

begins to fade,

the uncertainty passes,

withering roots come back to life,

brave new universes patiently wait,

seeking shelter within cool pockets

of summer shade,

the land of promise lies ahead,

we have waited for this moment

all our lives,

we have come home

to live;

we have come home

to die;

take my hand,

together we will survive

the destruction,

together we shall face

the final storm;

together we shall

make this final stand.

.

.

gypsy (gimme shelter) ©

she lives within like a

faraway dream,

a wild and raging river

running dangerously out

of control,

a dark, passionate gypsy

who can never be tamed,

flying like the wind,

disappearing with the evening

sun;

she is everything,

she is nothing,

she is here,

she is gone;

it’s just a shot away,

it’s just a shot away; ©

you fight with every ounce

of strength you possess,

you run as fast and as far

as you possibly can,

you hold out for as long

as time allows,

you sell yourself to the

highest bidder,

pretending it doesn’t matter,

telling yourself it is

just another one,

that it will pass like all the rest,

but it is not enough,

you find yourself

wanting more,

she has you for the taking;

it’s just a kiss away,

it’s just a kiss away; ©

and you wonder what shelter

exist for this,

what refuge is left,

what cure;

it’s just a shot away,

it’s just a shot away. ©

.

.

© gimme shelter, it's just a shot away and it's just a kiss away - Rolling Stones (Keith Richards, Mick Jagger)  

sunrise

there was mostly silence now,

broken only by an occasional

scream or moan,

flashes of far-off cannon fire

lit up the distant horizon,

an eerie reverence permeated

the air,

we rested slumped against

one another,

staring blankly into the early

morning sky,

only hours before it was insanity,

unimaginable horror,

a great tidal wave of madness

and fury,

everywhere,

bodies locked together in death,

covered in blood,

covered in guts,

everything a weapon,

broken guns,

bayonets,

rocks,

fists,

fingernails;

in the end it had

come down to teeth;

the sun was beginning to rise,

steam rolled off the sea

of carnage that lay

before us,

our nostrils saturated

with the stench of rotten flesh;

it was sacred,

almost holy.

.

.

35 Seconds (by Charles Bukowski)

failures. one after the
other. a whole duckpondfull
of failures. my
right arm hurts way
up into my shoulder.

it's like at the track.
you walk up to the bar
your eyes scared out of
your head and
you drink it down:
bar   legs   asses
walls       ceiling
program
horseturds

and you know you
only have 35 second left to live
and all the red mouths
want to kiss you,
all the dresses
want to lift and
show you leg,
it's like bugles
and symphonies
everywhere
like war
like war
like war

and the bartender leans
across and says
I hear they're going to
send in the 6
in the next
race.

and you say
fuck you,
and he is
a white dishtowel
in your grandmother's house
which is no longer
there.

and then he says
something.

and that's how
I hurt my
arm.

Charles Bukowski

Writers Block

 They rise up,
like diamonds in a

dream,

begging to be taken,

waiting to be used,

screaming for recognition,

then poof,

they are gone;

never to return.

It’s always something:

time to eat,

music’s too loud,

football on television,

stomach hurts,

leg hurts,

too tired,

the dog needs to go

outside,

the groceries need to

be shopped for,

it’s always something,

but;

they’re really not interested

in your excuses.

Cold little monsters,

killers on steroids,

no compassion,

no mercy,

ice water running

through their veins,

scumbags,

rapists,

torturers of animals,

mass murderers,

calculated doses of

instant poison;

they deserve

everything they get.

It’s easier this way,

nobody to blame,

nobody to pin

the rap on,

nobody to take the fall,

no one pointing fingers;

no one getting any

credit.

One of these days

I’m gonna set up an ambush,

lie in wait

as they pop out

from their greasy little

hiding places,

then, BAM!

got ya,

you little assholes,

you greedy, stinking whores,

no more havoc for you,

no more of your

pathetic shenanigans,

no more sticking it

in my face,

no more carrots

on a stick;

yeah that’s what I’m

gonna do;

just as soon as this movie

is over.

.