hello, how are you?

i pray you are well,

will you step away

from the noise?

in your eyes i see divinity,

faint eternity

distant lines

that stretch far there,

to possible resurrection

you are a marvelous creation,

i pray you see,

a fearfully,

wonderfully made,

being,

you are

be still

forget about pseudo science

computers did not evolve from primordial soup

living things are a marvel

intelligence is alive

i am overwhelmed by the complexity,

come with me and see,

the proofs,

the observations of the fact,

the faith that he,

the creator lives

can you squeeze,

your mortal body

into the tiny crevice,

between the cell and plasma membrane,

sip nourishment from its vacuole?

while standing tall

in the shadow of a mitochondria?

can you reach a distant star,

even the closest?

swim through galaxies,

beyond the edges of dark matter,

mind dizzing, light years away?

look closely in awe,

million mile long solar flares,

emitting from terrifying lakes of fire

see the earth rotating light to dark?

suspended forever,

unending internal heat

can you smell beauty?

can you dissect a gorgeous scene,

gaze upon nature and rebuild it?

can you create a living cell,

from scratch make it,

into a thinking species?

mankind without God,

is mechanical

doing,

breathing

crying,

seemingly awake,

alive,

yet sleeping,

then dying,

utterly lost

nairobi, mumbai, lagos,

cuidad neza, usa,

every part of the world

it don’t matter,

it’s all spatter,

so the heartless think

every country’s

got it,

greed politicians

dressed in armor,

dressed to kill

tho’ theirs is next to nothin’

for loving’s skill

takes from their brothers

what’s not theirs,

so’s they can hock their wares

an’ of the children

their hearts to tear

for earth’s great population,

the majority stares,

short on livin’

long on rations low

great tribulation is given

the earth is vast

filled with wonders

man so easily rips asunder,

leaves angels aghast

stupid ape man forgets his past

flowing rivers,

majestic blue

makes your tired eyes to skip

lapping up majestic hues,

wets the lips

makes the soul to quiver

clouds of cool

riding on the neck

of summer’s oppressive heat

giving shadow’s rest,

with friendly arctic winds,

born in lonely fjords,

from far away

sweet respite to few

sad,

for the hungry

it is their right to see

the beauty gone is wasted,

for those in squalor

such eyes will never see or feast

upon these things,

’cept for the teeming few

vast valleys of bounty ferns and moss,

makes my heart feel the dross,

for out of reach,

for those secluded ones,

my heavy, crying heart,

pouts tears that wish,

every man could touch

why, o why does it go on so?

while floods

and flows of humanity,

over the precipice goes?

why, o why,

tho’ the cure,

the dose is there,

the serpent still yearns to kill

on his murder path he goes

keeps his hosts deceived,

on human lives he takes his fill

so wish,

with one fell stroke,

i wish i could,

with roaring thunder,

tear his wicked heart asunder

I walked behind my brother who was drenched by darkness, but for faint stars, in the summer night. He walked ahead, flashlight in hand. In his left he carried a bamboo shaft, near 4 feet in length. A thin rope for quick recovery, tied to its blunt end, the other to his right hand’s wrist.

His flashlight flashed along the canal’s bank, searching for the mysterious bullfrogs. These bug eyed creatures, whose slick, cold skin, grey under moonlight, mottled with green by sunlight, intrigued me. I hoped for a catch.

Lorenzo, motioned for me to hang back with his extended, lowered left arm. His right hand carried the 3 pronged trident by which to pierce and snare frogs. Each point was barbed, like a fish hook.

The bullfrogs’ deep bellows pervaded the night. He stopped pointing with his flashlight at the canal bank’s edge at which the bellows ceased. He held flashlight in tandem, with clenched fist on the trident spear, illuminating aquatic weeds.

There, the splotched apex of light suspended swirling particles of illuminated dust. And there rested a bullfrog; a shocking excitement to my eyes. The creature lay with its eyes bright, pupils glowing, stunned. Like the proverbial deer caught in headlights, oblivious to the impending danger, despite it sensing something was amiss. It waited, based on it’s silence, no doubt induced by the presence of the beam of light come out of darkness.

My brother, transferred the flashlight to his other hand, flexed back his right arm and hurled the shaft at his target. It was my cue to run to his side unrestricted. He handed me the light.

“Keep it on the frog!” He muttered fiercely.

He hurled the spear and recovered it with its thin rope.

Filled with excitement, I watched Lorenzo retrieve the catch by pulling on the rope. I pointed the light at the shaft’s trident wondering if he’d made his target.

He had. For there at trident’s end hung the full form of a large bullfrog.

“Here, carry it by its hind legs.”

I was filled with pride at this assignment.

We repeated the venture. Him walking ahead with trident and flashlight. Me, walking behind 10 paces, my frog in hand, its skin cold, dangling upside down.

Up the canal bank lived an old African American man in a makeshift shed. Its roof no more than 6 feet off the ground, covered with green composite sheathing. The length of this sad structure was about 8 to 10 feet.

We delivered the frog.

He greeted us, from within.

“I see ya got ’on. C’mon in parn’er.

We stepped in, downward about a foot or two. The floor was humid dirt. His home’s proximity was on the lee side of the canal bank, making the soil moist. It was dark and musty.

I’d seen this makeshift shed by day, its perimeter surrounded by tall grasses, cattails and weeds. He’d lived here for years. I never asked myself at that age of 7, what might have been unusual about his living conditions or what his livelihood might have been. I only knew that he lived here separated from all other human beings and their shelters, adjacent to a dilapidated cattle pen.

He had a dented kerosine lantern lit, Its stack askew. An ancient kerosine stove sat on a dark ledge, its black iron reflected the dim stars’ light on porcelain protruding knobs. His bed was his couch, as it was his table. It was a tubular steel frame covered by an army blanket, I surmised made of mule hair. Itchy, no doubt, like the one at home.

“It’s a big on’, . . . et fresh?”

“Just caught it,” answered my brother.

“Le’s see et.”

He grabbed it and held it up to his face.

“It’s a big on’, I’ll gi’ya 25 cents, ay?”

Lorenzo said, “yeah, an’ I’ll git you more.”

“Them’s good frog legs man! Ya do dat, I’m alays ere.”

Thinking back I wonder about him, the man who lived destitute and alone, so lonely, forlorn, like forsaken. I wonder what his livlihood was. What brought him to live where he was. He lived in dire poverty.

He was friendly and seemed very happy.

I wondered if he was an outcast in having difficulty finding employment. Maybe he was the cattle pen’s care keeper. Or, maybe he was just someone who wanted to live off the grid, so to speak. It was the 1950′s and he appeared to be 70 or so years of age. Maybe he was a victim of prejudice.

I only know now, 2019, that he was a human being. No doubt he has passed on. I only now know that although I didn’t really know him, that i wish I could meet him from an adult’s viewpoint and talk with him. I would, if possible give him a lot of my time. I would bring him regular meals. I would share my love with him in these kinds of ways. And, if there were any wrong committed against him, if he were healing from any wounds, I would bring him spiritual salve and tell him all about Jesus Christ.

But maybe he’d probably have told me about the Lord himself with no room at the inn for him either.

i remember sharing prose with you,

though i never met you face to face,

we parted company across cyberspace

though i always felt your trace

of life within my thoughts

though i never met you

face to face

i miss sharing prose

i saw by electronic image

your still portrait avatar,

come across the internet

then you vanished gradually,

so much so,

like to watch a plant,

when it grows

so much so,

that i didn’t really notice

when you disappeared

i could not track you down

except to witness but a trace,

as the vivid truth and shock,

slammed me in the face,

when i read

at your abandoned post:

these pages are empty

how is it?

i thought,

to never feel the breath,

or voice

or sight

of a person

even through pleasant eyes,

or touch,

of such a one

across vast inter continental cyberpace

and yet feel a love

by sharing prose,

growing over time,

not the physical element

of companionship,

like with mere acquaintance,

but simply by the words

shared by the prose

to feel love,

stronger than physical

the intermingling,

the entertwining

of spirit minds

by sharing prose

so it happens,

the void

by missing such a one,

you’ve never met,

is real

it may sound pathological

to love

to gain a friend

by only reading their words,

penned of their feelings,

who then disappears

no goodbye,

only broken memory,

is no trite thing

by such a thing as words,

loneliness is overcome,

the sharing of intelligence

the ability to feel another heart

though separated to the edge of infinity,

as it were,

is no small thing

the words themselves

if they are gone

leave a deeply

emptiness of void

the words themselves

they were a blessing,

they made you come alive,

as if i’d met you face to face

your words were,

a salve,

a comfort,

of your presence,

a marvel in itself

tour through town

dust swirls round

settles on all crooks ’n crannies,

unseen layers pouring down

the gleaming paint,

glass an’ even golden steel,

some seem sheltered, in a haze

but everywhere smears the taint

beneath the elusive facade

the pulverized molecules

of rust and rot

is illusion soaked in real sod

how wretched, how blind

how vain, how stubborn

tho’ micro short, lives unwind grave to dust of human kind

i turned pages in my spirit/

vivid,

still frames of images,

stood stark an’ frozen,

pasted there/

blasted by light

to indelibly imprint,

the world’s views

splayed of nacissist men

as rubbish,

forever/

deception

violence

blood

spilled with horrors

anguish filled immeasurable/

page after page

sordid reality

harsh memory

of what can never be erased/

it’s either love or hate

caught between the two

forced to live

impinted there

page after page

irreversible

sometimes i wish time for me

could forever stand/

still

in those rare moments of love

i cling,

while the incessant,

unpredictable

inevitable plagues

of rotten fruit

drop,

spoiled/

from the blighted limbs

of ruined trees

i cringe

i turn the page,

why am i here?

i’ve often asked

yes, i have found answers

sadly, though true

as of yet

remain

to be fulfilled,

for which i wait

to be relieved,

in this time,

while the glorious future

awaits

with its remarkable blessings

as yet

unearned

freely bestowed

hand to the plow

face to the onlsaught

to the one who overcomes

will win the crown

everlasting life,

page after page,

ohhh,

to break the monotony

of my life,

so agonizing,

waiting for the start of the end

only love sustains

world views,

systems

slavery its way,

dominance

oppression

arrogance

subjugation,

i turn pages/

some relief

i am in the world

but not of it

i have learned new meaning

as i reflect/

i see the ultimate of what worth is/

it is love,

love has a face

every moment of every micro second,

if filled with love

most often,

mixed with hate,

nonetheless,

is worth forever lasting/

to die in love’s arms

in the frozen frame of the terrible,

those sordid memories,

of things whose scent even now,

fill me with dread/

disdain and misery/

fill me with utter hurt

and weary grief/

fill me with remorse/

hopelessness

as in no recourse

unforgetting is not possible

i am beyond,

at times beyond comforting,

i am beyond the point

of endless tears/

my faith says

i must endure/

faith has a place/

oh, to look in love’s face

i look to love to find meaning,

even in the midst

of meaninglessness

and human cruelty/

is there love in such a picture?

yes, i think, especially so/

all things, i know

are sustained by love

love breaks through

the horror,

quells the pain somewhat

i see the one dispensing

the cruelty and hurt

i see a love of self loathing/

invisible,

yes, hate has a face

how did such a thing come to be?

is there redemption?/

i know there is,

even as i know the world moves/

it moves seemingly in no direction,

like a spinning cog,

of an enormous,

physical, spiritual machine,

bent in conscienceless evil,

of boundless greed and utter selfishness,

void of love/

filled with heartless ambition

to eat the flesh of the weak/

i am weary beyond measure

there are many stories,

many are false,

many gods,

not real in divinity

not of love,

false and fallen/

one story is true,

invisible,

and yes, God has a face,

he is pure love

only he is real

all will see him

his friends,

and his enemies,

at the resurrection

another page,

why are you accumulating riches?

yes, i know,

to secure your physicality for tomorrow,

for pleasure and recognition/

you follow crypto coins

you want to outdo the others who ploy their wares

that promise you security

unfathomable riches and pleasures therein

mathematics will provide eternal guarantees

no one can break in

the cyber mark grants autonomy

via the ethereal tools of cyber machines

that hum and whir at the speed of light

whose existence bridges the nanogap between,

the physical of quantum ness

and the spirit dimensions/

it’s fascinating to you,

those mechanisms,

you being human, curious an’ all,

being in want of mainstream competition and success,

following the existentialist’s dream,

the bane of the new capitalist man,

the new evolutionary man/

you got it quick,

you’re in position to rise

to the top,

you with the few elite,

of the new world order,

the product of darwin’s evolution/

next, the bio man,

merged with machine and biocybernetics/

you aspire for immortality,

in immorality

sustained by technology

cybergenetics,

dna’s 3rd strand

merged with the collective hive

quantumness will bring you eternal life/

it cannot be

one,

only one will occupy the highest rung,

the peak of the pyramid,

for the one eyed monster

the illuminist himself,

the all seeing eye,

who’ll track your every move

enthroned

sitting in the seat of desolate abominations/

give me liberty or give me death

enthroned there for a season of seven years,

will you acquiece to him and his system,

to his religion,

having rejected the everlasting gospel?

many will cling to

the son of perdition

and be his prostitute

and follow him to

oblivion

in a page of history future

so little,

we have so little,

some more

others less,

some none

so little time,

it goes,

it went,

our time of life,

goes so fast

some are dead

before they are reborn

and born only enough to see

how dead they were

and live with the pain

of knowing the end with decay

coming,

no matter what is done

i turned to see yesterday,

it seems decades of time ago,

a young man preserved on video,

now old, now weak, now gone

once new, proud,

brilliant and bright,

filled with light,

like a son of God

but decaying like summer grass

like rotting fruit,

unseen by the harvest

hanging on wilting branches

the progression of time,

of corruption,

of the lie believed,

of the consequence,

of time restraint,

of death

oh what grief,

what mind bending grief,

what helplessness,

if you really get it.

most don’t

unless they’re on a death bed,

how can they?

if they’re snuffed out,

in, say, instant death,

like a head on collision at 75 mph,

or ground impact in a plunging airliner

with no pre warning

in these matters of mortality

oh yes,

even the arrogant cry out

for mercy from God,

when the devil comes to collect

what pain,

only his voice remains,

like a ghost with images,

like mist,

vapors of spirit,

only memories,

. . . so helpless, so hungry,

so thirsty,

amazes, flabberghasts me,

how earth dwellers

seem content

unwilling to know

the knowing of the coming ends

how blind

how self deluding

how illogical is the conduct,

decomposition in the ground,

bone, guts, blood,

dust,

yet, happy as larks,

until death comes,

in the dark

/ / /

i am greedy for life,

oh, only for a little bit,

give me a little bit,

but don’t ever let it go

don’t ever let it stop,

a little bit more of life

clean,

untainted,

filled with quiet,

peacefulness,

like a snow banked lake,

surrounded by alpine trees

conifers of holiness

standing clear

imposed upon the bluest sky

of turquoise purity

////

i’d ask for all of it,

but i know it won’t happen,

i can’t have it,

not now

no matter how

gotta suffer

is what i’ve learned

it is what it is,

fair,

low cost to pay,

considering what others have paid . . .

i don’t feel like getting graphic here

/////

i’ve tasted of life

can’t get enough

can’t find enough

don’t ever let it stop,

while it lasts,

can’t,

haven’t gotten enough,

what is enough?

enough is eternal life

filled, immersed in peace

like a meadow

filled with green,

wild flowers, birds

in joyousness, in love,

in light

a concept,

an idea,

a reality based on faith

of supernatural cognition

of supernatural reality

upheld by truth

what is truth?

it is bonded with love,

it is right,

of what is true

truth is alive

it is suspended,

integral with wisdom,

it is life,

God’s attributes,

//////

the thirst comes in spurts,

quenched by truth

i can see it sometimes,

the greatest truth i can ever know,

and it goes,

disappears

comes again

a great and marvelous light

just enough to tantalize

and cause cruel torment

because i am bound by flesh,

knowing i cannot have what it reveals,

what it shows me in this mortality

can drive a man insane

it comes and goes in avalanches,

disappears until an unexpected moment,

a short burst,

i hold my breath, so to speak

knowing it will not last

like deja vu,

suddenly it is gone

i desperately lunge for it

eluding my grasp

like silk

forbidden to a pauper

respiration stops

the heart stops

decomposition starts,

immediately

no power in the universe

seems to bring it back,

or so it seems

and yet,

i know of one who can,

and will

in the meantime

oh, what pain,

what titillation

to feel, to see and know

it is to be taken away

in this dimension

to taste of eternal life

a little bit,

in this flesh,

this life,

this death,

is torment

in knowing

it will all be taken away,

a grand, ultimate punishment

i hide for a moment in the castle of my mind

in my spirit i am shielded

for i know i am utterly powerless against all things

like an armless man

who cannot touch to hold

what he would love to love

what have i done?

asks the righteous man,

like the victim

who has never seen the light,

born in captivity,

made to suffer in the darkness

though the sun shines, it is dark

in the land without the truth divine,

it is midnight

though we walk,

we stumble

we injure ourselves and each other,

like a man tied to a chair

in an empty room

forced to watch history and its tools of recorded events

to see and feel and know

his life will be extinquished,

gone forever,

along with all those before me and those to follow after,

all the beauty,

the humble and meek

together with the proud,

the good with the bad,

the truth is a heavy,

heavy burden to bear

in a bubble

things pushed against it

have always tried to bust it

they’re pushing now

trying to obliterate it

and if they succeed

i’m doomed

in the truest sense of the word

i’ve one protection

as i float aimlessly through

through earth

carried about by whims and winds

subject to overwhelming dangers

close to the heat

the burning fires

the rage of the times

the countless dangers in which to plunge

and yet i’m here

somehow

as fragile as i am

as weak

as vulnerable as i feel

i’ve only one protection

when?

and will

the bubble burst?

i ask as i peer

through its soft and clear window

naked and afraid

i wonder how i’ve floated this far

without it having burst

adding further to this intrigue

is the 360 degree panoramic sweep

casualties everywhere abound

i’m as vulnerable as the underbelly of a baby

even my own

my heart is skin deep,

with only some ribs spaced between

over vital organs

i’ve only one protection

i’m in a bubble

i’m still alive for a singular reason

the bubble hasn’t burst

but it will

when?

it’s only a matter of time

my one protection is,

my invisible helmet,

my spirit sword

he is always watching

ain’t no words of hope

even though i’m full of words of hope

i hear them

but i don’t feel them

i believe them

but i don’t feel them

. . . and i feel small today

empty and unconnected

i’m in a small sector

of a sea of people,

just like me

with wants, wishes,

desires and dreams,

the overwhelming majority of them

unfulfilled

hopelessly,

vast improbability

of any chance of,

fulfillment

opportunities everywhere,

with no chance of attainment

like a bird with wings

in a cage

vast far boundaries with no limits,

in the horizon

in the wind,

inconcievably unconcieved

like a man with rich imagination

whose dreams are perennially shattered

by ongoing nightmares

whose eyes have seen majestic mountains

in the distance divine

but once in a tattered lifetime,

whose eyes now only see but barbed streaks

across the prison sky

endless time,

no ends,

but for us,

each moment whispers,

the end could come

at any moment

it will come,

at any moment

while wondering

led by the din of noise

of polluted political air,

whether what waits on the other side

will be insecurity again

it does

this end

it waits

and it will arrive

whether small or large

strong or weak

still,

or agitated,

angry or frustrated

it will

for all

like losing consciousness at the end of sleep

like a coma with no waking

aware and out

awake then out

awake then gone

matter changes over millenia,

we are spirit and flesh

we do not change

we die and flesh decomposes

we live in mystery

flesh and mind,

living for fulfillment

knowing the end

as it waits unexpectedly,

helplessly,

is a torment

is expected

and somehow we live,

each breath automatic

despite the weakness

living to the fullest is impossible

there’s never satisfaction long lasting

but fragmented into bits of pleasure

if at all,

mixed with pain

faint words of hope and faith linger as wisps

on the fringes of my thought

they calm somewhat,

but eternal peace is fleeting,

agonizingly temporal,

while the clash of memory

the harsh realness of what history reveals,

the documentation of sordid events

like solid steel,

stands hard and stark against these thoughts

that we all live but a brief time

mingled with the phantoms who’ve worked evil

who’ve caused untold pain to the innocent

for wealth

and human sacrifice

oh, if only peace would last

if only life offered real comfort

if only quiet,

sky

land

sea

and air

if only sunlight

would shine unobstrusive

untainted

if only sunlight would remain

if only the cancerous taint of evil

would forever be obliterated

if it weren’t for you

i would have given up

long time ago

if it weren’t for you

i’d of lost all meaning

long time ago

if it weren’t for you

i wouldn’t love anymore

i’d lose my sight

lose my vision

for what is right

i’d lose my mind

if it weren’t for you

i’d live like a beast,

long time ago

if not for you

i’d forget

the meaning of meaning

i’d lose myself

i’d not ever care again

i’d lose all i have

i’d give up

about giving up again

if it weren’t for you

i’d forget

i’d forget those who i love

instead,

i’d love to think

about all their faults,

and mine

would overwhelm me

and kill my soul

i’d forget you

i’d die

lost to oblivion

if it weren’t for you

Lord,

i would be nothing