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Aver Dec 2019
do you believe in god?

funny how it sounds like asking
if you believe in magic

when you were a kid it was a given
now we are not so sure

do you believe in heaven?
or is this place the reality?

do you believe in life after death?

are those taken from us just waiting for us to come back to them?

do you believe in god?
is she who we thought she was?

do you believe in god?
or the power of humanity?
why have those become mutually exclusive?

do you believe in responsibility?
or has faith taken that from you?

do you believe in prayer?
worship at the altar?
robes and crowns? kneeling and bowing down?

or do you believe it is within you?
silent, personal, private

do we need a building
ornate and magnificent?
to prove our innocence?

or do we need only ourselves
our hearts alone with god

i don't need a book
telling me what to be
i don't need a circle of men
to tell me when to breathe

i don't need stained glass windows
to make me see the light

no scrolls or ancient articles
to tell me what is right

my spirit is the one
that leads me to prayer at night

my god doesn't hate
doesn't reward evil with spite
my god doesn't create love
just to punish those who practice it

my god doesn't abide by labels
or care who you go to bed with at night

my god doesn't need you
to play the saint
only when the spotlight's on you
my god
sees through the facade

my god
is my god
sick of the hypocrisy
Max Neumann Nov 2019
behind a dark curtain
you're going to find
the lord of the blind

the lord of the
blind isn't able to
walk and talk

like others; well
you'll miss him when
he ain't there

who is he the
lord of the blind?
Mark Toney Nov 2019
Mom's joy
Dad's boy!

I learn,
discern

God's Word
I heard

God's Will
instill

Result-
adult

Most good
I should

My call
help all

Some bad
some sad

My wife
great life

Our sons
blessed ones

Good friends
lives end

Grow old
be bold

Dear ones
death comes

Lord's call
stand tall
10/30/2018 - Poetry form: Footle series - Copyright © Mark Toney | Year Posted 2018
Mark Toney Oct 2019
Quacky little bird sound
When you hear it coming duck!
If farmer Ted is after you
You're running out of luck

Totin' shotgun and bird shot,
Son, he's aiming not to please
He's sneaking close behind you bird
You better hold your sneeze

Cuz your feathers are a tickler
Your bill is orange and bright
While the farmer is a stickler
He will sup on bird tonight

Lord love a duck!
Of him you mustn't run a fowl
Pain from your freshly plucked feathers
Will be enough to make you howl!
7/17/2019 - Poetry form: Light Verse - This is the first poem in my new e-book "Bird Beaks & Bee's Knees", a collection of bird-brained poems that attempt to answer the following question:  What can you do when you're as busy as a bee and life bugs you to the point where you cry fowl?  And there you go, barking at the geese, ducks and swans, swatting carpenter bees with your tennis racket and drowning ants with your water hose as if that will help.  The Woodpecker Gazette calls it "A silly, idiotic and unintelligent must-read." So as not to run afoul of the grammar police, please understand that my poetic license is up to date, misspelled words are intentional and the use of puns is clearly authorized. Why in the world would I use puns? To make it more punny, of course! Ok, I'll stop now. Maybe...
Liz Carlson Oct 2019
father, i'm calling you by a new name.
i've called you Father,
comforter,
friend,
redeemer,
savior,
and Lord
for so long,
but today I call you my sustainer.
You hold the world in the palm of your hand
You hold everything together
so perfectly and beautifully
all for our good,
though we may not see it.
You're my sustainer.
You're holding me
I trust in You, oh great sustainer.
You're all I need
You sustain me through it all.
If your lips are dry, let me moisten them with the sweet fragrance of my lips. When your soul is empty, let me fill it with the fruits of my love so you can moan in ecstasy. Let me whisper in your mouth and it shall melt like honey. A kiss of mine can satisfy the wishes of a Master like you. Tell me how to please you, Lord. Come and swim like a fish into the ocean of my love. Let us melt into each other, let me wound you with everlasting pleasure. God shall be our kingdom and you my only Master.
Mane Omsy Sep 2019
A little bit of rain
Expecting more from the lord
Just now, the right way we sway

Lighten the lost souls in the darkness
Let them wander with ease
Occasions that occur very often
A mild notion to be burned
dizziness causes to sleep very happily. Sleep tight at night.
Nat Lipstadt Sep 2019
Hineni, Hineni; I’m ready, my lord.”  
(For Evangeline Ruth Hope
)

<>

”Hineni is Hebrew for “here I am,” and is the response
Abraham gives when God calls on him
to sacrifice his son Isaac. It is also the name of a
prayer of preparation and humility, addressed to God”


<>

what you do not know
is that this word,
was spoken with a fist beating
a pin into the praying man’s chest

recited daily,
shades of hopeful, reverent resonance,
a shaded resolution, disguised as a quavering variable,
a statement, a questioning, an unsteady surety,
all of the above

this word, rooted in my genetic consciousness,
been ready repeated since my first whispering

was I ten years aged?

first time, full on bowing
on the synagogue floor, not fully understanding or
ready to confess my selfish need for forgiveness,
my forehead resting on my stubbed fingers resting on carpet,
worn thin by my predecessors ancestors,
who now comprehend more, but then, never enough

these same fingers, that write this collective,
                                  Hineni,
a word repeated oft, flavoring of the who
of who I am, a training in soul fracking from
early childhood, its import, powerful beyond
today’s identity revisionist empowering

let me plainly speak, in the original language
taught to me with that other tag along, English,
a lingua franca, a dialect that can never capture
a soul presenting himself in substantiated readiness

for the whatever exists in between
hallelujah and hineni, where the rubber soul
hits the road, stumbling on hands and knees
on a forest path of roots and soil, where sunlight breaks tween
branches, are road signs to look up, look down, look within

I know your name,
Evangeline Ruth Hope
analyzed its components,
cleverly constructed Greek and Hebrew rooted,
bearer of good tidings, following Ruth in, to hope,
you a Moabite in Mormon Utah, preparing
yourself for exposure, practicing humility
unceasingly seeking

good

that is how it should be

cannot translate well enough
what was this gift given to me
learning as a youth, a wanderer, tribal member
where beseeching is second nature,

and accepting personal responsibility fully cardinal,
fiddling prayers while standing unsteady on
the roofs of extreme shakiness

hineni is then but this:
a prideful admission of strength

ready ready ready, here I am,
completely unready for the unknown future foretold,

hineni I know

here I am,
ready or not,
find me so I can be found,
cease, help me cease, my foundering,
confident in my willingness to
find a way


netanel
9/12/19
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