Friday, November 24, 2017

SKIN, KIN

What gets under my skin,

is one with no kin,

With illness inside,

no reality to coincide,

With slaps, and taps, muttering, and puttering,

they walk alone,

singing,  their own song,

Crazy, they might be, but we only see,

The outside, and not inside,

where once was housed a mind so sound,

now only a soul homeless and bound,

To be set free one must come,

To God and his only Son..............

Legion, was found, by a man of renown,

You know the story, it's old and re-told

For when you see another so bound,

remember to pray for a mind so sound.


Monday, November 20, 2017

Every body ask, what I do? Everybody ask what you do? I say, What you mean...?

Everybody always ask what you do? I say, what you mean, what I do? I live. That's what I do.  My job is not who I am. I've had many jobs. I say.  If that's so, then I be many things. They say not so, your work, your passion, what is it? I say and laugh, riiiiiight....I do what I can, when I can, you know? Today it's bein a janitor. Yesteryear it was, a cook, tomorrow, who knows, Lord knows, I say, not important to me.  I just live.  Then they look at me sideways, not knowin what to think.  You see they on the other side of the tracks.  And i'm on this side.  I live day by day, year by year, and it all works out.  They stare.  I think they from Mars, they think, i'm lost......but I know.
     I gave up worry long time ago.  It wasn't worth it. Always thinkin, always wrinkled up my brow, got me ulcers young.  And so here I am 85 and still truckin!  They be 60 and dead.......I smile, walk on........

parajumpers

With a a mighty leap from wings on high
men  dart through earths azure sky
with mirthful grins and hearts aflame
their chutes deployed their fears allayed
like a ball in a glove the earth receives
the feet of men superbly trained


Homeless and nowhere to go.....

     she's about to lingah
     
     directing traffic with her fingah,

     she crosses the black asphalt,

     hoping she's not at fault,

     with eyes open wide,
 
     surely there is no pride,

     with one coat on her back,

     she doesn't look back,

     holes in her shoes,

     there is no new news,

     she scuffles along,

     watching traffic move on,

     windows uptight,

    there sheds no light,

     for from within, a man with a grin,

     feeling so nifty, he full of fifties,

     speeding on by, she begins to cry.........

Friday, November 3, 2017

"THE HOUR HAS COME........"

JOHN 17:1

     The seventeenth chapter of The Gospel of John has always intrigued me.  Why? Because it is the most intimate prayer I think Jesus had just before his betrayal and crucifixion. How exactly are we privy to these words of prayer?  It would seem that Jesus would have been as his usual manner be alone when praying this. Who then was near enough to hear this prayer of his and record it for posterity?  It is not only beautifully intimate, all inclusive of what the heart of the gospel is all about, I.e. (he longs for us) and wants us to be with him and the Father.  Also we know these things too....
    We are to know God and his life that is eternal life...
     That Jesus has been glorified and we have brought him glory
      That he prayed for us and not the world, because like him we are no longer of this world, in other words we have come to his kingdom and we know it.
       That through the power of his name, the name (you gave me) has protected them
        He gave us his word, the word that was given to him (Jesus).
        That he sanctified himself and us as well.
         And finally he prayed for all those who would believe through their word that they would be one in complete unity.......

           Now notice this last line...be one in complete unity.....in other words no discord among believers.  and in love also.


       But back to the nature of how we got these words....I suspect that John was within earshot of Jesus when he prayed this incredible prayer of his.  How else did we get it?  It wasn't dictated, recorded or re-transcribed, like the letters of the Jews.  I think it was indelibly etched upon John's heart when he listened and later written down from memory in love for his master and Lord. Peace.