When at last I shed my burdens and the new day's light shines upon me. I will rise to meet the new tomorrow and what ever might be waiting upon me. Through the long night I have been wearied, but now the day has come. I will bathe in the bright pure light as I at long last see the son. So I bid welcome to the everlasting morning and walk through the gates of Pearl. I will be greeted by my lord, as he welcomes his child home. No more will I cry for as my tears have turned to joy.

When I am persecuted I will speak his name. When the world forsakes me, I will speak his name. When all turn against me, I will speak his name. When they threaten me, I will speak his name. Faithful until death, I will speak his name, so that in the eternity Jesus will speak my name.

I saw you with the other girl, don't try to deny it. I cried all night waiting for you to call. I thought about confronting you with her, but I decided I would wait. I knew you could explain yourself, but you filled my heart with hate. I splashed venomous ink across my social network page. I left deep scars of what you made me feel. Now that I am face to face with you I can't believe this is real. I know that I have created a total disaster and that my words of scorn were toxic. I feel so stupid that you are breaking up with me because I was jealous of your sister.

When did kindness become unpopular? When did mercy get replaced? Why does a straight path not work, when you can see all the way to the end. When walking to honor God, and abiding by his steadfast word, your feet are set sure and you heart is filled with the truth. Giving reverence to others and seeking justice is not a sin. So let us forget some of our modern values and start walking in the old path again.

Find a pretty face with a gentle voice. Put her in spandex and sprinkle her with glitter. Giver her a catchy tune and some shiny lip gloss. Throw in a risque tattoo in a place that can be exposed. Let her prance around and jump about while she sings a rhythmic jingle and bends down  real low. When she gets so hot she is about to pop, then you have a pop ****.

Images of depravity dressed up for high society. No actual ******, but illusion is what you really see. A game of dance and song on stage with tricks of light and glitter. Extravagant costumes that leave little to the imagination but leave you wanting more. Heels and chairs, smiles and longing stares, sensuality and intrigue. All put on with flare and style, sit and watch our show for a while, Burlesque.

Sitting on bails of hay, listening to the rain on the tin roof. I close my eyes and hear echos of the past. I take in the smell of damp wood and the tapping of the rain on the metal. I hear chickens clucking and scratching in the dirt. I drift back into years past, as I hear the creak of the barn doors and the sound of horses in the stalls. I can feel the presence of an old time grand father and hear child hood laughter as he tells stories and piles up hay. I can once again feel the cool dirt beneath my feet and smell the corn drying in the rafters. Here I sit and rest is still quiet, thinking of times gone past. In an old barn with a rusty tin room and a few missing boards. A place where my childhood was simple, and for a brief moment, time stood still and happiness could be found.

A rhythmic tapping begins on the snare drum, then the trumpet chimes in. A beating and the sound of the horn vibrates the room as base string begin to strum. A low thundering beat blending to make the room move. The sound of the house band bleeds into the street as the saxophone swaps out with the trumpet then in a duet they sing in harmony as a dazzling woman begins to belt out a harmony as she shimmers in the colored stage lights. All of the scene is in time, as the set jams on into the morning hours bleeding through the floors and ceiling, a jazz serenade.

I found a pair of sandals in a second hand store. They were kind of dusty and they were well worn. I tried them on to see if they would fit, suddenly I began to feel where they had been. I saw a blind man sitting beside the road, I felt as if I had to help him. Then the image moved on, I was standing on a mountain with people below as far as the eye could see, I felt that they had come to listen to me. On and on the images came to me until finally I saw a man calling to me. He had wounds in his hands and feet he was standing on a path before me. As I drew closer, I stepped into his shoes, he said the decision is yours, only you can choose?  So I kept the sandals on and went to pay for them you see. The man who owned the shop said that there would be no charge, simply follow me.

Shadowy figure of beauty hidden behind layers of linen and silk. Only your eyes can be seen beyond the covering that hides beauty. Dark jewels that twinkle in the desert sun makesthe heart to have rampant desires. These are the only windows that one is allowed to see behind the curtain that hides your beauty. Only the inner beauty of the soul can be seen, as a harsh master keeps you hidden like a precious treasure. Yet even with all of his vein attempts, you speak if only with your eyes, of passion, and desire that burns beneath your covering like the scorching desert sun. Oh what a great price one would pay to know such beauty, even if for only a moment of mortal time.

People see the great achievements and the glory that others bask in. They see the moments of magnificence and perfection. What they fail to see, is the sacrifice and the labor that goes into accomplishing great things. When a dream is envisioned, it is often fraught with obstacles. Giving up many things is often required. Being focused with intent and willful purpose in order to find that singular moment in the sun. Hours, days and weeks may be lost in the struggle to realize the goal, but only when you are willing to push beyond the boundaries that have been placed on you, can you begin making a dream come true.

Deep beneath Spanish moss covered trees where snakes sun themselves and gators creep among the reeds. The water of the bayou lies still asleep. Murky and foreboding hiding secrets of the ancient past. It boast no light getting in, as the murky waters flow on with out an end. No one knows where the soulless waters well up from. Some say deep caves beneath the dark bayou. Others believe the water comes from Satan's well, just outside of the gates of Hell. While no one for sure knows where the water begins, many know where it ends. Flowing out through the tall marsh grass, where the blackness fades and it clears, running into the Mississippi then out to sea. Where it blends with other waters only to be replaced by more black water deep beneath the moss and live Oak trees.

Path ways of cobble stone, walls of uncut rock. Dark rich flower beds full of exotic herbs and blossoms. An old fountain beneath a wooden and wrought iron balcony. Fired red clay tiles adorning the roof, with vines ascending the trellis along the side entrance. A cool air hangs about the court yard as an old shade tree sways in the wind. Gentle silence washes over me as faint noises come from the kitchen. Inside a roughly cut table sits next to the stove. The smell and flavor of Olives, Garlic and Cheeses are fragrant in the air. The wood shows cuts and signs of being well used. The dim light from natural windows illuminates the space. A feeling of belonging with family and friends fills the whole house. To be here for a short time gives me comfort and lets me absorb the spirit of something new but familiar that I can take with me when I go.

The bulls rumble through the capitol stamping on everyone who dares oppose them. The fat cats toss around money to gain favor and access. The air is tepid and the mood is questionable at best. The political weather can change with a new pundit poll. Despite rain or snow, inside the capitol there is a temperate climate that has come in because of a change in the way the political winds blow.

The flags fly in tribute, the grass is cut and the stones glisten white. A fallen hero lies quiet until the eternal call comes. When you look at the name and the place, you wonder who he was. A story that lays untold is a story like mine and yours. He was someone who loved his country and was not afraid to answer the call. When it came to defending freedom, he stood proud and tall. He didn't want to lay here, but he knew that is how it might one day end. This could be anyone of us whose love of country is so great, that we would be willing to die for the land of the free and the home of the brave.

Wrapped in my cape, adoring my princely crown, as I command my subjects who purr and roll around. Lazily the ***** of fluff proclaim my greatness as loyal subjects the adore me and show me adoration as I make proclamations of great importance. In sequence they mewl and rub my legs and feet one by one. Awaiting my command or at least a treat to make them full. So on I go surveying my subjects, as each sits before me feasting on a bowl of gratitude. A feast set before those who are loyal to me, as there prince. The divine cats of my realm, who show loyalty every time they are fed by me.

Bouquets of colors abound as the little pills that I swallowed down take hold of my keyboard. The words flow like an ebbing tide, they drift far and wide. My imagination flows like a river as I see the pretty colors of the ever expanding rainbow. My emotions are cleared away as I write about a rainy day or speak of a Unicorn that I just met. Who knew it could be this exciting when I let the pills do the writing instead of the dreary person who used to be me.

Sabers cross and steel rattles into the heat of battle we go. Back and forth we ****** and withdraw. Dodging sideways and ducking thusly as cannon fire erupts around us. From side to side we see our ally and foe. Causing havoc and destruction we gouge each other with poison and place all that is dear in peril. Slashing at each other, we draw indefensible lines, back and forth we go. While the war is an illusion, the causalities are real as we duel with tongue and pen. Our war of words inflicts damage and creates division. How can such a war end, when our hearts and inkwells supply our ammunition and what we can contrive is unlimited, from the heart of the human soul.

You crave my flesh and want a taste of my blood! Not to end me, but only to draw out a small bit of my life. I hear you calling me, you watch me until I am numb. Only when I am at the point of despair do I speak back to you! I balance you in my hand and debate with you once again. As the emptiness crawls up through the pit of my stomach, you win the argument. I let you sample me and take a small portion of myself. In return you give me ecstasy and a feeling of life. Though the ecstasy is pain, feeling this is better than the numbness. So I set you aside until next we speak and I argue with you to see if you will win again.

Hooves that shine like blackened steel, a main that shimmers in the sun light. A snort that elicits fear from any rival. Standing proud in armor as you rush into battle. Your bridle pulled taught as you leap forward into danger. Urged on by your bloodline, generations of champions before you. A charger bread for the field of honor. A heart like a millstone, strong and sure. Onward you thunder, forgetting fear and remembering only the sound of the trumpet! Charge forward to victory horse and rider or to an honorable but noble death.

Discarded and forgotten, denied and rejected love was taken and placed on a tree. On a day that was dark and somber when all head turned away a new name was given to love you see. Sent down by his father, to accomplish the father's will. The son of God Yeshua, Jesus died upon that Hill. When all of the blood was shed and his last breath came at that moment love had a new name.

Is my dress too white, or should I even be wearing white at all? Will the guest approve of me or will they scoff at the way I look. I am not really sure if I should be doing this, is he the right one for me? Can I get him drunk enough that he will be sedate on our wedding night, do I even want to be married at all? If this the future I want for myself, should I be planning to work for my own money? As the music plays, and you head down the aisle, you are thankful that the dress hides your running shoes.

Violets lain out across the field, Purple the color of royalty. I put on my cape and walk among the Golden Rods, barefoot across the Purple Violets. I feel the cool petals beneath my feet as I step delicately. I am royalty a princess born. Noble to a great house that has done great things. For a few moments the birds chirp and sing of my beauty. I dance before the royal court and dazzle them all. Then my dream passes and I fall into the a Scarlet carpet of flowers and take a little nap, still dreaming about the great things I will do.

I took my oath without reservation and I swore to defend my nations. Following in the footsteps of family before me. I ask no special treatment, you may never now my name. While you were sleeping one night, I was keeping watch faraway. When danger knocked at the door, I was there to answer the call. To remind the enemies of your freedom that I will defend you even if I fall. Though you and I might not agree or see things the same way. I and my forebears offered our lives to ensure that you may peacefully live as you see fit. So take heart  and be of good cheer, for when the threat of danger is near. We will be there to guard the gate and keep our country free.

Pixies dance in rays of moonlight sprinkling magic dust across the veil. Mist rises the morning after and mushrooms tell the tale. Groupings of circles where pixy dust was thrown down last. Waiting to be harvested by industries gnomes, and carried away to their lairs. Each full moon the cycle begins anew. Fairies spreading their magic, in fairy land that is what they love to do.

There are no more selfless ******'s only self centered people. Once self debasement was considered an act of courage, now it is a way to stardom. Posing in the ****, has become passé. When a great woman did, it was her form of protest. Now it is too common and piety has been lost. Our society is flooded with vulgarity and we must bear the cost. So to any woman who seeks to give up her self respect for the sake of vanity, remember that intent of ideals may come with a high cost, but shamelessness for gain has a cost all of it's own.

I sit in silence as I watch my t.v.. Day in and day out I try to block out the sorrow and misery. I watch idly as I see inhumanity. I try not to think about it, and I do little to change anything. Though I have not pulled the trigger on a gun, nor have I planted a bomb. I am just as guilty for doing nothing as the ones who have committed horrible crimes. The streets run red with innocent blood and in silence I stand. Afraid to try to do anything, the blood is on my hands.

I stare at an empty chair though the place has been set. I long to hear the clink of your fork and spoon. I miss how you mash up your food and make me so crazy. Eating is not the same when your away. So finish what you have to do and put your slippers on, an empty seat awaits you. Eating as one is just not any fun. I just don't enjoy eating without you.

A time is appointed when all that is broken shall be mended. The stone that was rejected shall become the head of the corner of the building. The beams that were left out will stand upon the stone foundation and hold up the building of creation. In one day all will be made right, when the nail scarred hands of the master builder that is to come makes the repairs that we cannot.

When the night is long and day seems far away, I shall praise him. In times of sorrow when my heart is breaking, I shall praise him. When the heavens are silent in response to my prayers, I shall praise him. In all things, I shall ever praise God.

You see my outer self, look through my veil. You see the inner shadows that I protect. My pseudo self is an illusion that I take on to keep others at bay. I wear it like a piece of armor. What lies beneath is confused and in a state of flux. Yet you see me for what I truly am. The false pretenses are lost on you and a grain of truth is made evident. You know the true meaning of my being. As you see your own self, so do you see me. I am a crystal lens through which you peer. I have lost all of my protections, I am laid bare before you. You look through me to the core of what I really am.

My last guy was a heel, but I guess that is how it had to end. Soon he will know what an app is when I use my smart phone to get revenge. Once we were joined at the hip and on our social network. Now I will intercept his every text and e-mail alert. I will upload all of his forgotten photos to Instagram and post to all of his Face Book friends. I will reply to all of his steamy text and give out his new girls phone numbers to all of his friends. With live streaming I will observe him, as he is in his natural state. Lounging around his back yard in his boxers with fuzzy house shoes on his feet. I will make him famous with his new Twitter account, the tweets that he will send, will be what everyone is talking about. I will post his photo to special dating sites and photo shop him into certain parades. Everyone will love his new Rainbow tattoo, it will make him all of the rage. When I am finished, he will be utterly alone. All of this will be accomplished, simply by using my smart phone.

A shadow of beauty, walking by without a word. A golden haired beauty who disappears into the night then reappears into my dreams. With curves like a winding road and a subtle smile that tempts the spirit and troubles the mind. Mysterious woman, why did you steal my heart with a glance.

Held in your arms until the dead of night turns into mornings first light. My soul is at rest , just to feel your warmth and to hear you breathe. When dawn's first light has come, I will lie still in your arms. Your strength embraces me in love that cannot be defined. I will rise to my labors secure in the joy and tranquility that the comfort of your love gives to me.

To become as fine silver or as purest gold, first we must be refined. Not in the way the world would see refinement, but through test of our character and faith. To be a useful vessel for the spirit, we must be made empty. Heated over and over in trials that test us. Becoming something pure in our faithfulness. Always holding fast to that which we cannot see. When we have been cleansed, then we are worthy to be called to the service of God.

No matter where I was born, I knew I would not stay there. I had to makes choices on where I wanted to go. Traveling on a hard road was the only way I knew, but poverty and discouragement did not stop me. With ****** finger nails and callused hands, I climbed out of the place that fate put me. I might not have been born to privilege, but my circumstances don't define me.

Soft and gentle as the morning dew. A gift of light in a darkened world. The bringer of kindness and mercy. A person of strength and gentle courage. Able to walk among the thorns of despair. Wise beyond formative years. A beautiful soul is  like a rare flower, blooming out of season and in a remote place. It is given to blossom into a gift that will touch many, but first it must be nurtured and allowed to grow, less darkness blot it out and take away harmony from the scheme of life.

Down I go into the murky deep. Let the dark water wash me away. Down into the depths I descend. I am forgotten and I want to forget. On the sand bottom of some deep water, in the cold darkness I am immersed into numbing silence. At last I can lose all feeling and have no memory of the pain. Let the water become angry and the wind howl above me. I will rest now and forever in my new safe haven as I let the waves roll over me.

When the rain falls, some people might become depressed. Some might want to sleep and wake when it has passed. That is fine for some, but not for me. For on a rainy day, I see what others do not see. On a rainy day, I watch the earth become clean. I see the debris of life washed away. I see leaves falling off of trees to make way for new spring buds. I see cooling of the earth from a hot summers day. I see puddles where children splash and play. I see rebirth and hope being watered by the tears of the sky. So the next time you are feeling Blue and your skies are turning Grey. Just remember that its not so bad on a rainy day.

Dew drops fall upon radiant skin, as the morning light breaks the horizon. I lay between supple breast content in lifes rapture. After the veil of night wrapped us in it's shroud, our passion was as a brief burning star. Now that I have walked in your fertile garden and planted a seed, I am comforted in your arms. Skin on skin our bodied share a radiant glow. All of my burdens have melted away and you are now my only desire. In a few brief moments, we have torn down all barriers and you have become the vessel of our future. So as I lay with you, I listen to you breathe as life takes hold from heated passion, as the morning gives way to day, all I know is that I am where I long to be, simply in love with you.

The walls glisten adorned with silk at the great gates are opened wide. The precession of many warriors is dazzling to see as they parade in their colored armor. The music of the many instruments fills the air with jubilation as the forbidden city of the middle kingdom celebrates the coming of a new year. The sun smiles down on dancers who mimic a ancient dragon as they prance and jump about. The fire  works pop and shoot into the air as the players do their part. The celebration goes on until the setting of the sun, when lighted candles rise in paper balloons to the heavens and small ships float down a river to watch the spectacle from afar.  All are happy and hoping for good fortune as the new year comes in.

Water is added to a ***, just as ideologies are added to a society. Heat is applied and numerous ingridents are added to the ***. In a similar way people are mixed together and sometimes have heated disagreements. The content of the *** will boil, just like opinions and tempers among diverse people in the same society, but the boiling of the water and ingridents blends the essences of each individual thing. Then it cools off a bit, and it creates a soup with a rather unique flavor. Wouldn't it be wonderful if people could be more like soup?

Drip, Drip, Drip goes the ink from my quill. Splotching the paper as I sit frustrated with myself. Scribble and scratch as the writers block stifles me. I push to find the words but they will not come. I squeeze the pen in frustration only to stain my face with the blood of my trade. I then come to understand how easily the ink can flow and that for their work a poet must sometimes bleed.

Spring comes as a season with flowers and new blooms, but shopping begins before the Christmas lights are put away. July picnics are barely over and fall is in the air. There is no time for green grass and lazy summer days. The search for profit has replaced our love of freedom and joy. We now care more about how much we make or what is the next new toy. No thought is given to enjoying the moments of our lives. We just race beyond the day and let its beauty pass us by. We should take a moment and pull back the curtain of our lives. Look around at what is missing and see what we can find. Rediscover old paths and find new ones with care, return to simpler things and stop the rush to the end of what ever journey we are on. For what is life ,if we are not living it? It is just a trip on which we've lost our way.

Sergent Pepper has gone quiet, and John sings no more. Margaritas are not so sweet and the sand has left the shore. Rhythm and blues die in Moe Town, Las Vegas shines no more. The king has long been off of the throne and we are no longer in a New York state of mind. Lawyers have replaced musicians and computers make the latest sound. The devil in no longer he is California bound. The twang of the steel guitar died when the ran old Dixie down. Sounds that once made us dance have been taken away. Perhaps they will come back one fine day. All I know is that change is not always good, because sad songs can say so much. So as the true artist cry for a Renaissance, I can only wonder where did the music go?

Dust thrown up from footsteps that pound the ground like iron. The sounds of thunder coming from an unruly herd that is completely out of control. The roar from their yells is deafening. You try to hold the gate, but it is busting at the seams. All attempts to calm them down are to no avail. They are riled up and hell bent for leather. As the gates open, they surge forward, in organized chaos, they come. A stampede of hormone enraged teenagers, pushing and shoving to see the next hot band.

The keyboard rocks with rhythm as speakers boom. Windows shake all over the house as a mother screams at her teenage son. He turns up the volume trying to find the right key, all he seems to do is give her a headache. He goes on for weeks then one day the keyboard stops. In solemn quiet she finally puts the aspirin down.  She thinks the worst has passed then more pain begins as he amps up his snare drums. Banging and pinging again she begins to yell. What he calls music she calls torments for hell. On this goes for many weeks, she burns through aspirin and drinks to sleep. Then one day what you would suppose, onto the internet his video goes. One million views in just under a week, what has happened mom can't conceive. Until the son who has given her grief, finally offers and explanation and some relief. With disheveled hair and moms new Ferrari, he gives her a new bottle of aspirin and says mom, I'm kind of sorry.

I will be silent no more, I will be heard. I will raise my voice against injustice and oppression. I will cry out over corruption and cruelty, I will stand and I will not fall. I will make noise and make myself known. I will push forward and not go back. I will not give one inch of ground. Though the tide of tyranny rises up over me, I will stand as a rock and it shall break upon me as the evening tide. I will be silent no more.

I saw a blue bird today. As blue as a Saphier the bird flew by. In a landscape that had gone dreary and Grey a splash of spring came my way. Landing on a fence post the bird just looked around, like a painted fixture out of place . I did not wonder why the bird came by, I only know that I had found unique beauty in a dark winter scape.  Like joy you find in a morning sunrise, after a night of rain. My soul was lifted up in knowing beauty has not left the world around me.

I was feeling depressed and at a loss for hope, then I happened two walk by a playground filled with children. As I stopped and watched, I saw innocence on display as all colors and kinds of children were merrily at play. I felt the wind blow behind me, so I decided to move on. I walk a little further and came upon a quiet pond. The water was clear and I saw a duck swimming with it's young. Fish were darting about below and Water Lillie's were in bloom. I found quiet comfort and peace then the wind blew again and I walked on. A little further down the way, I saw an aged grand mother sitting on a porch reading to two young children. I stopped by the fence and listened as she told them a tale and the children listened intently for a while. Then again the wind blew and I was on my way, but this time I heard someone from no where say, I am glad you took the time to see the things I do. I am so glad that I had a chance to walk with you.