It’s kinda hard, writing

When your humble servant (me) first started with WordPress (WP) I was probably just like the majority of y’all;

  1. Didn’t know how to use the regular editor thingy
  2. Didn’t know, and still don’t know, how to use the CSS thingy
  3. STILL don’t  know how to promote my writings, poems, musings or my carefully rewritten and reorganized ummmm…..what’s the word for stealing other people’s stuff and acting like it’s yours?

It’s either, ‘plagarize’ or ‘inspired’…fb_img_1451345640938.jpg

They’re both so close in their meaning, because if you look up both words in the dictionary and read between the corporate lines, they are, pretty much the same thing.

I guess I’ll go with ‘inspired’ because I do it without malice of forethought.

That means I didn’t mean to steal someone’s stuff and make it better.

Besides I can argue all day about why I have never willingly or knowingly plagarized anything.

I don’t read other peoples stuff or I should say, can’t read….

No, before y’all get all crazy and indignant, hear me out

If I read words from a page, I mean, literally read words on a page from a book like entity, I will be asleep in less than 2 minutes.

I have been like this since the 3rd grade. That’s when Mrs Salter first noticed it in me.

I can’t read instructions, newspapers, scriptures or anything over a page long. Seriously.

I will pass out.

I don’t think it’s a problem with dyslexia because I’ve always been a good speller, good problem solver and such; plus, mathematics doesn’t do it to me. I’ll look up dyslexia and see if I’m using it in the right context.

hmmm…doesn’t happen when I write.

I just noticed something else….

Why is dyslexia such a weirdly spelled word that represents a ‘condition’ where people have difficulties with spelling or the correct sequencing of words?

Oooo, look. My first wild tangent in this post.


My life has gotten in the way of me writing as much as I would like.

  1. eating
  2. paying bills, willingly.
  3. paying bills, that I have no idea why they are as much as they say they are.
  4. Treacherous wife
  5. Treacherous children; at least the ones I know about.
  6. Work; I guess that would be a ‘gimme’
  7. I wish I’d been born rich
  8. Life changes before my upcoming 52nd birthday.

wpid-seductress-plain-black-page-picsay.jpgI never thought I’d ever write that statement “Life changes before my upcoming 52nd birthday.”

But…I’m glad, or blessed, that I have gotten as far as I have gotten in this life; this test, this probationary state.

Because, if any of you have ever read any of my previous “get to know me” or “self revealing” posts on my humble blog, you will know that it’s pretty much a miracle that I have lived as long as I have lived.

Note: If I say I’m humble, does that mean I’m not?

If you haven’t read them, let me just simplify it so you don’t have to go thru the torture of reading them

It’s a miracle I haven’t killed me yet.

  1. I was baptized into the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints on August 11, 1984; 32 years ago.

I was 19

When I came up out of the water in the baptismal font, I actually checked to see if my tattoos had come off.

Ignorant, yes, I guess; hoak’m maybe

But, man, I wish I had that feeling again.

It’s been the one instance that has seen me thru my fickleness for these past 32 years.

Yes, one moment in time, I knew that everything was gonna be alright.

….past 32 years….wpid-img_12463873886964-picsay.jpeg

I knew that I wasn’t alone, we aren’t alone. That, I knew secrets…and that I had to tell everybody.

If I had known then, as I stood waist deep in holy water, wiping the soul saving water from my eyes, what would happen in my life over these next 32 years, I probably would have asked the kindly missionary that had dunked me to dunk me again….until I quit kicking and tossing about and just floated, face down.

“Where were you when I laid the earth’s foundation? Tell me, if you understand.” – Job 38:4

I have free agency but, Who am I to question God?

There’s a lot more in that question than you actually see at first; read it again and ponder.

I have free agency but, Who am I to question God?

“Mortals, born of woman, are of few days and full of trouble.” – Job 14:1

I have free agency but, I must cry repentance?

I wish I could keep a fetching steady stream of thought on one particular thread of contemplation and insight.

Stupid adult ADHD….

C’est la vie.

I’m all over the place with this.

Have faith?

Oh yes…I think I do finally.

I think I have an understanding in the concept, thereof.

If you are a memeber of the LDS Church, you will understand this…if not, I will add some links for clarification and has absolutely nothing to do with brainwashing. (You are a chicken, you are a chicken)

downloadI have been faithful to the law of tithing for a while now. Tithing

I have been faithful, as much as it is possible these days, to the Word of Wisdom Word of Wisdom

I miss tea and coffee…..WHY!!??

I am trying my darndest to pray each day, as much as possible, considering that I never really made it a priority in my life, plus I’m lazy, plus, I’ve always been like “Why, pray? God knows what I’m thinking or doing or what I need and what I;m thankful for, anyways. He’s a busy God; wouldn’t my stating the obvious to him just be a cruel redundancy or I’d be jamming up the lines for more needy and desperate or WORTHY souls to get their prayers heard?

It’s all about obedience to the word of God, I find out…dang it

Tangent 2….

I have so many ideas and directions that I can go with on this subject that I can’t keep my thoughts organized.

I think my writers block is gone.



I don’t know why I’ve gone in this direction with my blog.

Maybe it’s a natural course, maybe it’s a budding writer that is searching for meaning. maybe it’s because it’s time for everyone to start exploring their own souls and I can feel it in the air….

Maybe, I heard the voice of God in a prayer where I was saying nothing at all; maybe I was just listening for him, to see if he was eavesdropping on me.

He was.

I heard “Endure to the end”

As if someone was leaning over my shoulder and spoke into my ear, in a normal, level voice.

Not still. Not small

It happened.

I was there and I’m just as surprised as you are.

I opened my eyes. Got off my knees and sat on the edge of my bed. “hmmmmm”

That was strange.

Why’d he say that?

Not “OMG! God just spoke to me!”

Trey HeaderWhy’d he say that?

I know why. You know why. We all know why.

Endure. To. The. End.

So, I looked it up.


Endure: verb (used with object), endured, enduring.

1. To hold out against; sustain without impairment or yielding; undergo: to endure great financial pressures with equanimity.

2. To bear without resistance or with patience; tolerate: I cannot endure your insults any longer.

3. To admit of; allow; bear:

His poetry is such that it will not endure a superficial reading.

To hold out against?

To bear without resistance or with patience?

To hold out against, what?

To bear without resistance or with patience, against whom?

Hold out? Without resistance? Oxymoron?



The World and all it’s ‘glory’?

God, himself?

I know what it is….

I have to hold out against myself….20141006_125886547-picsay.jpg

The greatest obstacle, hindrance in my life is undoubtedly and unsurprisingly…

I only have to hold out, endure to the end, against the greatest supervillin known to me.


No problem.

I have to think on this.


p.s: Oh, the last meat dish I have eaten was Lasagna.


p.s2: I miss meat but, not really.






That Was Fast

I am a frightened man…all the time.

Is it normal to get over the age of 50 years old and become even more afraid of death?

Usually when we are about to reach the finish line we are ecstatic, proud of our achievement “I HAVE FINISHED THE RACE!!!”wpid-wp-1444829697854.png

Not now….now it’s just “FUCK”…..that was fast.

I don’t tell lies in my blog, at least that I am aware of, because I will honestly admit, I have told lies in the past that I was NOT aware of.

I call them “reflex lies” so as to avoid punishment, admission of guilt, criminal intent and/or divorce.

I can’t call them “little white lies” because in todays world I’ll be labeled a racist.

I’ll call them “PC” lies

My humble blog is the only thing in my life that I can honestly say I MUST keep real, at all cost!

I have lied to myself and others for way too long….

In this blog my words are real because they are not spoken…

Here it is…. In a nutshell.

I am headed to the age of 52 years old this September.


Fuck….that was fast.

I have never been a half century old before.

I am steadily and increasingly surprised and somewhat alarmed at times on the reflections of my life and the never ending contemplations of my mortality that I have, of late, been experiencing

I am scared…totally scared to death of death.wpid-wp-1444829291704.png

I am cautiously optimistic…that I might be the one man on earth that has the mutant ability to live forever.

….realistically, quantum mechanics type of pessimism, too, I’m afraid.


I am getting older much faster than I was when I was 21….

Do y’all feel that way too?

Shut up, millenials, you haven’t even began to fear life yet.

And hush old people! You don’t know my psyche! LOL!!!

I hurt in places where I never hurt before…especially in the chest area….and my legs.

I know it’s all in my head….

When I get really tired, I get slight head rushes and little stabbing pains everywhere.

Yes, I know y’all are diagnosing me. I already checked with WEBMD and found out I have Shingles, Herpes, Aspberger’s, a cold or rabies…..

I think it’s rabies, myself.

Oh….there is hair growing where hair shouldn’t be growing and it is wiry and gray; it smells weird, too.wp-1449415567889.png

The general consensus about my life, in my view and probaly lots of others feel the same way, is that I have wasted most of it.

Oh, sure… There have been good times, wonderful times….

Clapping and dancing and all that jazz.

But on the whole…?

I could have, should have been/done/lived, more.

You, too?

Weird, how much we’re all alike.

I cheated myself because I took myself and everything around me for granted, it’s realy easy to do in America.

That’s what most of us do, we humans, on the most part, we take most of our lives and time on this earth for granted.

And we honestly don’t think we are. We don’t mean to….it’s just…you know…..gonna last forever.

That’s the crux of taking things for granted; we don’t think of it like that, we don’t think about it much at all until it’s gone.wpid-image-29776397883-picsay.png

We get so used to living we forget to “live”, pardon the pun that I’m sure is a pun.

Life is…supposed to happen.

Life here on the blue dot is supposed to have trials and triumphs I guess but, on the most part, our length of time nor quality of life thereof is promised.

Death is the only certainty, not taxes. I haven’t filed taxes for years and I’m still here! Ha Ha!

Death don’t work like that, but the hardest thing to actually believe is the only thing guaranteed; in life, during life, after life; once we start to breathe on our own, not even tomorrow is a surety or the next breath.

Oh, I’m not trying to be fatalistic. I’m really a pretty, positive person.

I’m here, I’m breathing, might as well do my best and hope I get to stay for a while, right?

I can’t dwell on the unfortunates of my life…it is a sin to kill yourself after all, according to most beliefs, and I would BLOW MY FREAKING BRAINS OUT if I let me dwell in self pity and regret.

Something else real quick, a snippet thought; I wasn’t concerned about my planet until wpid-wp-1444829255574.pngeveryone else started screaming “The sky is falling!” That can apply to a lot of areas.

Selfishly, I was only concerned about me… even when I was married and had kids.

They, it…. The whole damn thing, never seemed quite real.

I was there….. But, not there.

Now, I think about them all the time…. Kids, planet, homelessness, terrorists, cell phone charger…

I’m worried about life 51.2 years after I started it.

That’s the funny part… If it was funny.

You’re not laughing…..

Me either.

Now shits gettin’ serious.

wpid-wp-1444829697854.pngFuck….that was fast.

NOW I’m concerned…

Good thing I’m a closet optimist with a bi-polar mind…

Keeps me in check, to a point. If not, I’ll get drunk, fall down and blame it all on God.

I will be writing and posting about my thoughts on becoming a “ancienter” (my new word) this week.

It will be my personal writers therapy, so to say…”

I don’t wanna bum anyone out and I don’t think it’s ALL that bad, really.

But this is why I blog; this is why I started this blog…

Too work thru my heart with words…and hope y’all, dear readers, help me out.

These words I can’t speak, only Imagine.wpid-20150607_171337-picsay.jpg

This post seems relevant today for some reason…and now, I’m done; for today.

Fuck…that was fast

P.S Denial…

It’s all I have left that is truly mine.

Will Not….ok

I came here against my will, kinda.


I came here to face trials, joy, pain, ecstasy, suffering and the other individual souls sharing this world.

That’s what I was told, in the beginning.

After the war…

It’s not quite what I was led to believe.

But…. I have to admit…since I’ve decided to stay….

Sometimes, I have joy.

Sometimes, I have trials.

Sometimes I double dip on purpose….

But, I always suffer…

For the loss of one thing and the gaining of others; contrary as it could be. Catch 22

I am here against my will.

It’s not the way I thought it would be.

When I was born into the world of men I became part of a collective conscience.

A consciousness capable of ignorance and hate; love and honor.

Dueling banjos….pickin and a’grin’n

I am human…dammit.

Against my will…


My individuality was lost when they gave me a name.

When I got the first year under my belt, I forgot how to speak like Angel’s.

My baby footprint is proof that I had arrived; been measured and weighed, found acceptable but, wanting in most regards.

A part of the hive…buzz kill

I became part of a family tree whose roots suck the life out of me.


I had a choice to come here.

I knew it would be a lottery.

I knew it could end up a gamble.

I didn’t know it’d be like this.

Fantastia and Fear…

I dwelt in envy and jealousy at the beginning, and shook my fat fist and fat feet at the sky, lying there in my baby bed.

I am a poison leaf on a dying branch…

I’ve spit on the earth, a time or two.

I am human, through no fault of mine own….


I was there at the beginning, as were we all; without number or time.

I’ve seen you before.

I was a valiant warrior in the War for Heaven, as were you, and you and you.

We were told that to become MAN was our reward, our battle right, our “spoils”…

You know why I came…?

Down here, I mean…?

The reason I am here, to face trials, joy, pain, ecstasy, suffering and the other individual souls sharing this world?

To help bring to pass the immortality and joy of man.

The Will of the Father.

This is what I was told, and it’s got me thru it all, up to this point:.

But, I am human…

Against my will….

But, aware of what must be done.

He told me;

“Remember, my child. The most important thing in the world, is not of the world.”


It’s what I believe.

It’s what keeps me going.

Going home…One glad morning when this life is o’er…

I’ll fly away in the mornin’…

Back where we all began.

It Goes Bump

Where does inspiration come from?

It comes from recent rain and rainbows, music from your past, a babbling brook that loves to download (2)gossip, fresh cut grass that makes your tennis shoes green, or a beautiful woman that takes your breath away.

It can come from babies laughing, a word on a roadside sign, the way a person treats another or it can come from a sudden flash of understanding and perspective about something you weren’t even thinking about in just that moment; as a matter of fact you haven’t thought about it in sometime then…”BOOM” there it is….

Then, there’s the other place that inspiration comes from….

It can come from the dark, when your eyes are closed and your mind is supposed to be at rest.

It can come to you in the night; where things go “bump”

When it comes, it is the type of nightmare that nightmares hope they never have….

It’s real….

I would not categorize what happened to me last night, whilst in my heavenly repose, as a nightmare.

I did not twitch, jerk, wet my bed, sweat or wake up screaming tangled in twisted blankets and all of my pillows on the floor.

I woke up quietly.wpid-wp-1417908021574.jpeg

My eyes did not jerk open in alarm or horror.

They didn’t open the way eyes normally do.

They opened the way they do when you’re afraid of what you might see.

“Am I back?”

Not “awake”….”Am I back?”

I remember whispering that this morning after I laid there for a while, in the dimming light, only a small, gray sliver of light from the window to stare at.

That’s what struck me a little later.

I had gotten up slowly, musing on how real the “episode” had seemed and how much of it I remembered.

It wasn’t like your typical dream, or mine usually; running thru our fingers like water or sand as Dickinson would say.

This one was sticking….

I dressed slowly, I got up slowly, I moved slowly….

I was exhausted from a burden that I carried in my heart and mind.

As I walked up the echoing sidewalk toward the office under a cloudy, morning sky, I stopped.

Why did I whisper “Am I back” and not “Am I awake”?

Did I actually go somewhere else?

Did that mysterious part of my brain know something that I didn’t?wpid-20150109_062042-picsay.jpg

How else could I return from the undiscovered country of my mind unless it has known how to get there and back in the first place, like it’s been there before, as if though it were a real place.

One thing was for sure…

I don’t wanna go back there.

It is a dark place where you go to scratch at old wounds and make them bleed.

It is a place where you cannot cry, only watch.

It is a place where you only talk to yourself.

But, in Gods infinite goodness, there was no running or screaming in this “place”, nothing chasing me, nothing breathing in the dark…..

The only monster there, is me.

This is the place we go to, to re-visit mistakes and regrets as a restrained and gagged bystander, as a silent witness to your own stupidity and ignorance.

It is the place where you re-live your past and there is NOTHING THAT YOU CAN DO TO CHANGE ANY OF IT.

The only power you have is to toss your head in your sleep and moan “no….”   “No….”

You don’t gasp “wake up” because you don’t remember that you’re asleep; you know…I know, that this is as real as it gets.

In the awake place we can force ourselves to quit dwelling on the past, to get on with our lives, to quit “beating ourselves up”; we’re only human after all, we all make mistakes.wpid-img_20150220_121756-picsay.jpg

Not there, not in the undiscovered country of our minds.

The monster that is you sits across from you in a small room and tells you a story.

It is not a long story but, it is true.

….oh, so true….and dark.

“Am I back?”

You cannot protest, you cannot cover your ears, you cannot look away.

I have to look at myself.

The worst part is, is that you are unable to make excuses.

Your monster that is you, knows that you’re a liar….

He knows how I can be….or was.

And he will never….EVER, let me forget.

But, you still try to soften the condemnations….

This isn’t real….

“Am I back?”

When the monster that is you has finished with your tale, you just sit there, swathed in fresh guilt and regrets, all of the old wounds begin to fester anew.

The fresh whip marks across your shoulders, face and back burn and gape.

No one can punish you with such ferocity and relentless spite and contempt, as can the very own monster that is you.

s,v,“Look what you’ve done” it keeps saying…..

And I looked…..



I opened my eyes.

My eyes did not jerk open in alarm or horror.

They didn’t open the way eyes normally do.

They opened the way they do when you’re afraid of what you might see.

“Am I back?”


I’m sitting here in our break-room writing this. I am looking around at the vending machines, a gurgling coffee pot and occasionally glancing up at the humming lights. I’ll tap a key or two on my laptop as a new thought or memory about last night comes to me.

“Am I back?”

I can’t tell…..

It feels….

….like that other place.

Wish I may... Wish I may…

I’m OK

I was in the ICU last night.

I’ve been bleeding in my gut and my kidney stones are on the move.

There are quiet people in hospitals that stare at monitors.


They wanted to watch me lie on their magic bed and make the machines beep.

I was the reason they hustled around on squeaky shoes under dim lights, talking quietly and serving as the sacrificial calf for practicing their blood-letting dark art upon.

I don’t like needles.
I don’t like hospitals.
I don’t like beeping machines.
I don’t like squeaky shoes in the dark.
I don’t like smiles that hide secrets about my life.

I appreciate them and support them.
They serve a need.
They are a necessary evil.

I was complaining.
I was hurting.
I was not happy to be back in the hospital for the 3rd time in a week trying to get ahold of the smorgasbord of ailments that decided to blossom for me this week.

I complained.
I bitched.
I moaned, I groaned, I damned their eyes….

I heard a moan from behind curtain #4.

Although there was lots of the machines, blinking lights, dropping drips, breathing bags and shadowy curtains…..I did keep my wits about me long enough to look for a floating head and a wizard.

But, no….


All I heard behind curtain #4 was an old woman gasping for breath and moaning.

All I heard behind curtain #4 was a family mumbling and talking about stopping….something.

All I heard behind curtain #4 was a doctor telling the mumbles that he didn’t care what they wanted, he cared what SHE wanted.

I felt his finger jab in the dark….

I felt them flinch…

The nurses stood back, poised for attack.
Should she stay or should she go?
Regardless of the verdict, they would fall upon the patient.
Doing good…
Letting Death step around curtain #4.
Dr.Ceasar raised his arm…

The crowd mumbled.
My breath breathed.
The nurses looked at me and grinned thru the dim light.
My BP was good.
My kidneys were bad.
Dr. Ceasar raised his thumb.

The old lady gasped.


Death stepped back behind the curtain.
The mumbles turned silent.

The nurses fell upon the hapless woman.
Jerking tubes, snatching lines, pushing plungers, raising beds, fluffing pillows, drawing blood….

They were diligent in their fervour.

The old lady would live whether she wanted to or not.

All I heard behind curtain #4 last night was an old woman gasp for air and fight for her life.

All I heard behind curtain #4 was a family planning for a future without her in it; while she was only 4 feet away.

All I could see behind curtain #4 was vultures flapping and waiting, Ceasar waving a sword, standing over an old lady fighting them off.

All I heard behind curtain #4 is a dying person.
A people.
A mom, aunt, grandma, sister…
A suffocating old woman…


I decided that I didn’t want to complain anymore.
I decided I was wasting breath 6 feet from a lady that was dying for it.

I decided that, I’m good….
No…I’m better than good.
A lot better than most.
One poor lady, for example.
Millions more….
So many, many more….

No, I think I’ll quit bitching, now.
I’m good…
No, really…
I’m better than good.

Waiting for me at home...


What was the world like before I  got here?

How do I know what happened BM (Before Me)?

Taking previous people’s word for it?

I mean, I’ve seen pictures, I’ve seen sites and I’ve read books.

But what if all of that popped into reality the moment I took my first breath?

I mean, I couldn’t talk or understand what anyone was saying when I first got here.


How do I know that the world of people might not need that extra time to get their parts right for the stage of my life?

What if I’m already in my heavenly mansion that was promised?

How do I know that this isn’t the heaven described to me by previous people?

How do I know this isn’t the hell described to me by concerned people?

If I take their word for it, it seems like it’s both.

It’s always burning. Hell

It’s always new. Heaven

There’s always suffering. Hell

There’s always hope. Heaven

There’s always a way out. Both

What if it all goes away the instant I kick the bucket?

God says “OK, let’s clear the set and set up for the next scene, people. We’re going with the script set in China this time and I need everybody on top of their game; this guy has trouble with his lines and hitting his marks with too much background noise”

What if I’m in hell?

What did I do to get sent here?

I must have been a terrible, previous me.

Well, if anyone’s listening, I’m sorry.

I’m really, really sorry for whatever I did BM.

If I had only known it was gonna be this bad I woulda behaved.

I know…

Previous people told me.


Previous books warned me.

But, how can I believe them when I don’t trust them?

What if I’m in heaven?

If I am….I’m very disappointed.

There’s too much blood on the golden streets of the heaven I was promised.

No one told me that the weeping, wailing and gnashing of teeth was here.

I don’t see or hear any angels…

I don’t take direction very well, I guess.

I shoot from the hip…

There is good. Heaven

There is bad. Hell

There is promise. Both

So, why do I still hang around here, waiting?

Why can’t I just walk off the set whenever I want?

Why do I have to constantly battle a director and script that won’t allow me to express myself and interpret the scene the way it moves me, to fit the emotional commitment into my body of work?

I can’t walk away….

I’m an artist.

I will stay in character and put everything I can into it.

I will make the part come alive.

But, what if there’s a rewrite?

Oh well….

“All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players.
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts”

Dang, I can’t remember lines for crap!

I think it goes…


“And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.”

Trust the Bard…

I am Shakespeare… BM

I am Alexander… BM

I am Newton.

I am life.

I am promise.

I am Death.

I am heaven.

I am hell.

I am All….

I can act any part in any scene.

Director, ready when you are…


“Roll cameras! Action background! Cue card! ACTION!! ”

This will be my greatest part, EVER!

Have Not…

I would have tasted life
I should have tasted life
I could have tasted life
If life hadn’t got in the way…


I would have made my dreams come true if I could have.

I could have done anything I desired if I would have
I Shoulduh…..

If I coulduh been God, I woulduh done what shoulduh been done… In the first place.

I shoulduh been a greater man if I woulduh tried harder; coulduh caught some breaks….


I shoulduh paid attention in school.
I woulduh been a better student.
I coulduh done great things….

I woulduh
I shoulduh
I coulduh….

I coulduh been a contenduh!
I woulduh been a fahduh!
I shoulduh been a leaduh!


I woulduh done it all if I coulduh…

I shoulduh…

I let it go by.
Not knowing why…
It didn’t seem important at the time.

Now it is, and where is the time?

I shoulduh tried harder if I woulduh known it coulduh been lost forever….


You Will See…


The thundering sky understands me…

The sweet taste of cloud, sky tears on my face, save me the effortless toil of shedding my own.

The empathy of torment sky loans me these pearls of liquid light, oh unselfish sky…mystery and clear.

Give me…
Take me…

When the dark kills blue…oil stroked canvas sky…
The master artists pallette visions sunlight shades and finds no mix for gold, nor ray to compare…


Paint what I see…
Write what I feel…
Dance to what I hear…
Drive it like I stole it….

To smell pure, the soft and plain…
Petals of sky made earth again; flower land of sights…

Anoint my brow, oh sky fallen tear
Pit the dust upon my feet, this weary, loathsome traveler pleads…

So a little pain must fall…
It can’t rain all the time…
Neither sun, nor days ever lasts

Sanctify me blessed sky

Joy or sorrow, nay twain from cloud or eye
Jaded pearls of light bent sky are the same, upon earth or hands they fall….

Can I offer anything in return for these open skies, reflected tears of light or brightly shadowed mind?

This is the thanks you will receive big blue sky;

The humble sacrifice of a moment from my life;wpid-20140719_2104365886-picsay.jpg

Recognized and taken for granted..

As we all….

I will give you, an;
Upturned face…
Closed eyes…
A kissed prayer for grace….
A Whispered thanks…

Then, I will dance in the rain and shake my fist at God and cry;

“It’s perfect! Do it again!”

God’s Not Dead Yet

Jacob wrestled with

I wrestle with God.

Jacob became Israel

I became….the natural man.

I just found out….

God’s not dead.

I suppose I knew it all along.

If I know God, which I like to think I do…

He’s always been interested in what we’re all doing down here, but not directly involved.

When he gave us free will, he threw up his hands and cried “Let ‘er rip!”

“It’s all in y’alls hands now!”

“Not my fault if you can’t get a God given gift to work!”

So, I guess I shouldn’t blame him anymore…

But, I do…

I’ve got to blame someone, right?

I can’t be blaming myself for things that I can’t control, right?

Wait….it’s MY free will…ain’t it?

It’s MY life….images (3)

If God gave me life, then he kinda relinquished his ownership, right?

So, I guess…it is my fault….kinda.

Maybe I should be more grateful for my ignorance.

I can always escape there.

I can thrive.

Ignorance is my shield against truth and acceptance.

Ignorance is denial cloaked in justification.

You know what? Now that I wrote that last line it made me think….

Ignorance and free will can’t exist at the same time, can they?

Follow me for a sec as I work thru this.

Free will is innate, right?

images (1)….as deep a part of our very soul as anything could be.

Just like right and wrong….knowing the difference…

Well hell, there really is not knowing the difference between right and wrong, per say;

We know what is right…We know what is wrong.

There is no gray area.I mean, think about it…..really think about it.

There is no gray area in right or wrong.

There is no ignorance in free will.

Here’s the math;

So, if x = right or wrong

And y = free will and ignorance is equal to “A”

Then x / y is not equal to A

You can’t argue with a mathematical proof….that’s science.

We know our decisions before we need one.

The “still small voice” that accompanies our free will and common sense is just God’s built-in subconsciouimagess disclaimers removing him from all possible liability.

I’m not gonna make a big deal out of this but, this post has been me, attempting to work thru a decision of my own.

I have decided that I have to have God in my life.

I have tried and tried and tried to forsake my belief in him….

It’s completely true that it is easier living in ignorance, just not that fulfilling or rewarding.

Like I have said before “I wish no one had ever told me about God”

I’m pretty sure I would have found him eventually.

I think I have always known, though.

He might not be the same God as others have in their hearts and minds; their perception, so to say, or the spiritual manifestation thereof;

But he is that he is….

I never quit believing….knowing, in God.images (2)

I was just ignorant to the fact that God’s not dead….

He lives in me.

He lives in us all.

Do the math….

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