I love being loved by God

It’s taken me years just to have a second of this feeling

A glimpse of being loved by God

I am God in me, responsible for loving me – and loving God of me, the Supreme Father, the Supreme Mother, point of light, man on the cross, Supreme personality, purifier, impersonal everything, Most Almighty submission – I am a child of God being loved by God – and loving – in the briefest of flashes – who I am.

Kenny

So many dreams

So many mistakes

Fear upon fear

So depressed about Trump

About life

About crime and sadness and poverty

Needing respect

Feeling unworthy…

For the briefest moment – the briefest moment – a man in love with himself.

Thank you.

Published in: on October 11, 2020 at 07:13  Leave a Comment  
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There blue

Beautiful was the world, colorful was the world, strange and mysterious was the world!

Here was blue, here was yellow, here was green, the sky and the river flowed, the forest and the mountains were rigid, all of it was beautiful, all of it was mysterious and magical, and in its midst was he, Siddhartha, the awakening one, on the path to himself.

All of this, all this yellow and blue, river and forest, entered Siddhartha for the first time through the eyes –

– was no longer a spell of Death

– was no longer the veil of money and riches

– and honor and respect and pain

– no longer a pointless

– coincidental

diversity of mere appearances, despicable to the deeply thinking Brahman, who scorns diversity, who seeks unity –

Blue was blue, river was river, and if also in the blue and the river, in Siddhartha, the singular and divine lived hidden, so it was still that very divinity’s way and purpose, to be here yellow

– here blue

– there sky

– there forest, and here Siddhartha.

– Siddhartha: Herman Hesse –

Published in: on August 11, 2020 at 11:12  Leave a Comment  
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Angel

For he will command his angels concerning you. to guard you in all your ways; they will lift you up in their hands, so that you will not strike your foot against a stone. – Mathew 4:6

Then you will walk in your way securely And your foot will not stumble. – Proverbs 3:23

____________________________________

Sometimes I pray for money. The alleviation of anxiety.

I wake up in tears from the strain and the worry.

Day in and day out – afraid to sleep for the morning will come, afraid to wake for the day will begin

Burdened completely, no enthusiasm for life

Then God shows up – when I have exhausted even my words – when I am down to groans and moans

And says –

My dearest son, well done

When all you have is habit, your habit is to turn to me

And I have always been here

And do not think I held back to teach you lessons

I want you to know the fruit of faith is guaranteed

Here on this Earth

And in future, stored up

like this;

Angels to guard you in all your ways; 

to lift you up in their hands, so that you will not strike stones

And your foot will not stumble

And I understand the gift!

Hallelujah!

I am free of the deadliest sin – sins I could not have avoided had I stubbed my toes

Corruption – Who will know? Take the money

Steal it – They are rich. God knows my pain.

Kill them – No one cared when I needed help.

Pornography and lying, false witness and anger, greed and damaging speech

All I have avoided

My path lifted by prayer – my foot did not touch the stone

For I could be in the depths of hell – a hell of eternity, not just lack of rent

And I am on my knees, thanking and praising

And was lifted when I could not see the real pits of hell surrounding me

My foot – my foot – my foot did not touch the stone

Published in: on June 25, 2020 at 12:36  Comments (1)  
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Warm water

‘…to Apphia our sister…’

(A prisoner,
On the basis of love)

I hang heavy weights on the thinnest wires
Not forced,

No longer a slave, better
To consider me a partner,

I own your very self,
And one thing more: Prepare

A guest room for me,
And my fellow prisoner – Aristarchus who

Implores I be what I am, and
Suddenly a man is leaking dust before me and,

I am no evangelist;

But even in the smallest book in the Bible,
Men are settling war with warm water.

Published in: on February 19, 2018 at 02:59  Leave a Comment  

Freedman

You are a Freedman, Slave
Don’t let it trouble you –

Death collects all,

And if everyone is born, with
Memories that fade,

Don’t let it kill you, this thought;
Homosexuals must die.

Published in: on February 16, 2018 at 12:36  Leave a Comment  
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Laughter

Put your hands under my thigh,
Immigrant,

You from the Eastern Peoples,
Come with the Shepherdess you call Rachel and water your sheep!

Sooth your bitter cry, Esau
Who sold your birthright for a bowl of stew,

You are not about to die,

The West’s intent is more evil than your deceit, come
Mind not the bully with the swastika on his back,

Mind not the woman on his arm with the yellow, snarling teeth, fear
Not the politician with the fat briefcase,

Eat now you handsome, black man,
Your whole body like a hairy garment!

The smell of you is like the smell of a field,
So eat now,

Before the Policeman in Arkansas hunts you down.

Published in: on February 13, 2018 at 13:55  Leave a Comment  
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The Harlot and Herod

Joe made a few sounds,
And was gone,

He gurgled and,

Racing across a moonlit sky, left
Puffs of smoke;

Little white markers, like a string of pearls –

Each pearl a landmark, an
Exclamation,

Here I did this, and
There, said that, I

Sense him in dreams now,
Covered in green smoke, and

I listen to his tales of dragons and fury,
And madams and God, I

Take notes too on how to die.

Published in: on February 8, 2018 at 20:23  Leave a Comment  

Without borders

Work is out-sourced or,
Completed quickly,

– even for slaves –

The rest of life happens, as if
Travel is free across the Earth,

People ferrying gifts for other earthlings,
And taking gifts themselves, and

Nations who visit violence on their citizens will not understand when,

Aliens arrive,
In their cars;

Who is the human,
And who the State or;

There are masses of molecules shifting through Earth’s atmosphere, that
Have the ability,

To be conscious,
Enough to,

Look after the whale, and

Not demand that the whale,
More intelligent,

Look after them or –

The starving Sudanese,
Crossing the border,

Earthlings will be eaten.

Photo – personal

-short evocative poetry-

Published in: on January 23, 2018 at 16:17  Leave a Comment  
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Encouragement

Encouragement happens when we look for it,

And give it,
In turn, it

Happens when we are not looking for it, when
We do not need it, yet

We do, it
Is soft and delicate and yellow,

Mellow on the face of a lover,
The,

Face of the receiver.

Published in: on January 18, 2018 at 13:23  Leave a Comment  
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Then the land had rest from war

My Gardener is enthusiastic.

He kills all the weeds in my garden,
Sweating purple,

Droplets,
Muscles wet,

He,
Slaughters them,

My perfect weeds so long growing,
Black,

And whites ones,
Jewish and Muslim,

Mayhem.

Now the name of Hebron formerly was Kiriath-arba.
(Arba was the greatest man among the Anakim.)
And the land had rest from war;

But –

My government has turned into a terrorist, and
My weeds are no longer safe.

-Joshua 14:15-

gay israel muslim christian terrorism

Photo Gay Israel on Pininterest

-short evocative poetry-

Published in: on January 1, 2018 at 14:09  Leave a Comment  
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Just do it

No one lingers on open ground in Syria,
And the buildings are silent.

The young man steadies his hand and shoots again.

It is Christmas Eve, and his
Yellow T-shirt – Just Do It T-shirt – is his only reminder,

Of normal people,

And Christmas stockings,
And of his mother.

His brown Uncle says he is fighting for his niece,
His manhood, but
The woman who shot,

In his direction fully clothed was fully,
Female,

Fully functional.

The bombs have destroyed all the buildings and the shooting,
Almost everyone,

And,
The meaning on the T-shirt is not his, but

He takes aim and shoots again.

Published in: on December 25, 2017 at 10:01  Leave a Comment  
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The smell of new curtains

It came from the right side like God, or a deer, a

Migraine warning,
Chemotherapy,

Under community skies and red immaculate buildings,

Missing Daddy,

Old enough now,
To hear sterner words,

To understand that the clinic,
On the dusty Main Street of the farming village,

Serves Japanese-Americans and Kenyans alike,

That dusty, ochre-coloured Main Street covered,
With maize drying, and

Women slipping from bus-stop to bus-stop with children in their hair, Paid for,
By a man with a plan – the clinic,

And mum’s words,
Soft and gentle and supportive,

And different from his;
I can take it now daddy,

I can make things right now,
The deer came from the left,

At least Cancer gives us time.

Even if your dream never comes, live it like it’s the only dream you have.

It will come you know.

Tomorrow.

Published in: on November 18, 2017 at 00:25  Leave a Comment  
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Snatching Time

She left without saying goodbye and you,

Have no more time, no
Early morning breakfasts, no

middle-of-the-night-fights,
Gone and now you must choose,

To give hope faster.

-Photo – Personal-

-short evocative poetry-

Published in: on November 6, 2017 at 16:36  Leave a Comment  
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Parade

They paraded before him in,
High-heeled shoes and,

Dangerous blouses,
Then,
Jesse, with the strong arms, and the

High chest,
Called Abinadad of the desert lands,

Furry legs and all, and
Had him pass in front of Solomon,
But, Solomon said
Not this one either,

And the rest of the parade, each

With their own,
Bursting muscles,
Were rejected too, but

One was chosen,
With fine feet.

♦Photo – Personal♦

-short evocative poetry-

Published in: on September 14, 2017 at 11:06  Comments (3)  
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Shoes

Shoes make the world go round,
Steady shoes,

Come home,
Stilettos,

Come sweet,
Yellow,

High heels,

Carry intention,
Fresh,

Stride,
Steady shoes,

Sure shoes,

Move,
The man in front, sure

Move the world,
Brogues,

Sure,

You can ask the time,
Leather loafer, certainly

Have my number,
Gazelle in yellow.

-short evocative poetry –

Published in: on August 31, 2017 at 17:01  Leave a Comment  
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Hippie


Envy in a bright blue dress sways down the street, turning

The doll the child is holding,
Into trash.

Her green plaid skirt –
Is useless in the wake of this drunk apparition,
And you deserve more,

Faster.

Stress, the suave gentleman in the red suit and orange cuff-links,

Plots his move.

Anger gathers dust around the
Isolated little girl, gathers

Whisper and,
Rumour,

Sets them chattering; I
Deserve better –

Cuff-links glint –

I don’t see why I,
Cannot have that doll,

That she has, it’s,

Not fair to,
Make me wait,

In plain sight, of
It,

With the straight hair,
That’s over there,

With her,
Demon!

I shall find my flip flops and search you out,
And give you a large, brown flower!

-short evocative poetry-

Published in: on August 14, 2017 at 10:28  Leave a Comment  
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Rhumba

Gentleness is a fertilizer, a
Rhumba,

Swaying wheat,
Balanced corn,

In a field,
Caressed by rain, it is

Kindness
To yourself,

Ploughing, when the harrow is ready,
And sweating,

Gentleness,

Glistening off chests, is
The masculine scent of forgiveness,

The feminine of,
Breaking ground,

Gentleman or Boer, order

In the house,
Order!

Give in.

*Photo – personal*

-short evocative poetry-

Published in: on August 13, 2017 at 08:07  Leave a Comment  
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Puppets of routine

A morning bird call broke my rhythm.

Destroy a wall, why don’t you
Power through patterns,

Holding you back;
Anger is a useless form of being.

I like to move it, move it,
Physically fit,
We can be better, we

Can always be better, save
The Earth,

Can a man scoop fire into his lap without his clothes being burned?

You have been trapped by what you said,
Ensnared by the words of your mouth.

Revenge and shame,
Are not cool rivers,

Are not brooks,
Are not life.

That comes with forgiveness, and
A habit is not what a Nun wears.

Published in: on August 6, 2017 at 10:04  Leave a Comment  
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My sister dropped her passport

My father left without saying goodbye,
Because I was late,
And CITES will not wait, for
African Leaders to emerge,
Female or male,
From the UN or not,
And the son was not at home to say goodbye
-partying as usual-
And my sister lost her passport on the airport road, we

Had to go back and hunt for it,
Lions in a pack,
Sniffing the grass,
Finding freedom, or
Yellowed inoculation cards, or
Rare Visas,
And I rushed back,

I Did,

After the bar, where I was crying
For the father whose glass ceiling meant that,
Africans cannot lead the world imagination, just
It’s institutions.

Anyway,
We said goodbye aptly.

And we know what was in the heart.

*Photo* – personal

-short evocative poetry-

Published in: on August 3, 2017 at 21:05  Leave a Comment  
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“…And For This Reason…”

Add to faith, goodness;
To goodness, knowledge;
To knowledge, self-control;
To self-control, perseverance;
To perseverance, clean intention;
To this intention, brotherly-kindness, and
To brotherly-kindness, love.

No-one understands me.
No-one appreciates me.
You never listen.

You never say, “I love you.”

Yet in the cool spaces between impressing others and,
Being pleasant to God, how

Are you?
How am I? And,

Then I know,

How wonderful it is,
To ache to be pleasing to God.

-2nd Peter 1:5-7-

*Photo* – Personal

-short evocative poetry-

Published in: on August 2, 2017 at 03:42  Leave a Comment  
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