Jesus’s birthday shines so bright
caroling down the streets,
fights in the dark
sweetly attending wounds
midwinter dark, the darkest season of cold
a bright light for all
warmth in the darkness
Joy in obedience
The joy of obedience
not grudging resentful thing
the hunger grows
a hunger shows
the emptiness you feel.
The sacrifice you made
the Angels marvel at it
obedience to your word
a joy it will be fulfilled
to walk in your way
to follow your path
to do is you did
to do as you say
Faith in Action
Obedience
to your word.
The things you place on my heart
no matter the timing
no matter the strange
no matter that I do not understand
I trust you know what you’re doing
I trust you have my best interests in mind,
I trust you
I trust you
I trust you
untitled poem
Christ receives me, catches the ball
I fall
tumbling end over end
I remind myself of this
it columns the fear
dear of disobedience
dear of large acts of faith
fear of joy
fear of change
fear of loss
I am in his hands. Faith early
Faith is wings unfurling
stepping off a cliff
waiting for the wind to catch you
The blood part 3
His blood, it is alive
it makes me want to jive.
The joy of all
I answered the call
in Christ, I am to thrive
poem
I seek the truth when ever I can,
wherever that may lead.
I have found him and he has a name:
CHRIST
I am victorious through him,
against this evils of the world. Through him I am strong
through him I am alive
through him I am free busted out of chains.
Through him I am free of condemnation,
the mire holds me no longer.
Jeremiah 6 Blackout poem
Jerusalem!
raise
disaster
great destruction.
daughter of Zion.
us attack at noon!
evening lengthen!
siege mound against
Jerusalem.
–must be punished;
you in disgust,
uninhabited land”
remnant of Israel;
gatherer pass
speak
warning,
may hear?
word
object of scorn;
children in the street,
the very aged.
inhabitants of the land,”
people lightly,
when there is no peace.
committed abomination?
roads, and look,
ancient paths,
nor your sacrifices pleasing to me.
stumbling blocks
shall stumble;
like the roaring
sea;
ride on horses,
O daughter of Zion!”
the destroyer
will come
test their
ways.
refining goes on,
Rejected silver
LORD has rejected
Audio Journal December 10 pt 2
The audio journal for December 10 2022 Part Two so I basically have a marriage without a marriage bet. Which still on some level feels ironic but also profoundly appropriate. Neither of us are actually ready I know I’m certainly not. She’s not I feel like I’m still catching up with everything. I know. I love her profoundly I know like I’ve told her this several times that there’s a thing I want to give her. And she she thinks she knows. I don’t really think she knows. I think maybe she can imagine
I don’t think she actually knows what I want to give her I don’t want to just give her an orgasm. No, I want to give her
I want to give her the experience of pleasure that rolls through her and feels endless and just crashing over as a peak rolls out and just rolls up and crashes again and again and again. And again just endlessly and just doesn’t stop like that. Almost until it is. It feels like too much but you want more anyway. until it is too much needed to stop and you say it stopped and you ask for it to stop and it does. Like where your body just feels wrung out and joyous and it’s just it just fills you with heat and lightning and life. And joy and
I’ve had glimpses of that I I’ve had bits of that with certain people and but that’s also partially why with one guy who could actually enjoy deep dirty me, that was fun. But also
with the guy who did some energy work who didn’t really know what he was doing. But who was like empathically going over the wave going over the crest of the wave with me. Neither of us really knew each other. Well, I think he’d never had anything. He’d never been with someone like me who could just keep going and going and going. And so there were files take exit 19 going and going and going and so I think for him it was rather new to just have that and so there was a lot of affection on his end which understandable but that experience that’s what I want to give her because that’s that’s just an expression of how I feel. Words alone don’t convey that they can’t convey that That is so much more than just words. Like I say like speaking with my body. and like I’ve had I sort of had this conversation which is like oh no, I have nonverbals with my mom and like with talking with facial expressions, which is not at all what I’m talking about. Like, I’ve talked to her about talking with my body and talking, like having conversations, because I want to continue on State Route and I’m gonna have conversations in dance. And she’s like, Oh, nonverbals Okay, yeah. And she says this and I’m like, You have no idea what I’m talking about. And I really don’t think she does even like outside of what I want to give her. I really don’t think she understands precisely what I mean, or at least hasn’t been thinking in those terms in quite a long time.
Catholic lights bring
The dark bight in the nave is broken only
By the candle flames, rows and rows
Blowing flickering lights that once …
I loved that echos
Of my feet bring me closer to the alter
Of my faith that is not my faith, a split
Hundreds of years old and still we go back.
I go back.
To that place
It had no cathedral, no stained glass, though
Stained hands were cheap. It wasn’t
Fancy, it wasn’t easy to kneel in those pews
In rows and watch and listen as the cop was
cleaned and passed along to only the select few up front.
A simple chaple for that school, a chaple that
Is not this place, that was not His place, at
Least not to me. That place was run by woman
that tradition said should have worm
black and covered their heads, but they didn’t.
They looked like teachers from the 1950’s in their
Bland business suits.
But still they were Sisters. Sister Student.
Sister Jone, Sister Anders
I left them at still a young age yet still I
come back. They blazed a trail in my psyche
feet wide, that refuses to go away and I still
go down it. It’s a trail of solid, packed earth
on which nothing grows.
Correct me
“If you would stop philosophizing, you would see I am correct.”
This Josephine was a short, not anybody but attitude per speech. Her was as refreshing as a spring rain that robs the day humidity.
Personality was tough as steel. Her wit was that sharp as a sword vicious as a mother bear, though the ferocity was applied mostly to her enemies. She wished to be thought of as gentle, as a lamb or soft featherbed. Summer rain as agreeing to on a hot morning.
she wished to be thought of as a gentle lamb or or a soft featherbed. Her steel underneath, she considered a thing to be ignored and forgotten.
The Joseph looking up at her, smiling Presentable. Yet recent smiling gets present smiling guests full of resentment. “If you keep gloating like that, I don’t know what you’ll do to occupy your time. Or what you will spend it with.”
“You’re just jealous that I am smarter, and that my idea is not a myth.” Her tone was self-satisfied, pleased, and congratulatory, though not smug.
Martin Write 