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And Paradise Awaits
by Jesse T. Arron He promised you the world. He called you beautiful. Then something changed. He took care of you, alright. _______________________________
Take Care ______________________________
Gray Intent ______________________________
by Bobbi Curtis Happiness is something bought. I have paid my price of sorrow
When evening comes I need you . . . like the sand Somewhere . . . somehow we’ve
By Bobbi Bartsch Curtis In death there is peace. At night comes the darkness. Together -- Paradise.
The fires burn bright. The birds came singing. Why is there no kindness here?
Self-Eulogy ________________________________
To all
my relations by Brenda Rich
so the animals can evolve into mutants that can't survive past birth.
On the Tabla Rasa it is etched
when they create these self propagating art forms
Void
the darkness that contains all possibilities the suffocating insanity of apathetic lunacy
that if let loose would explode across the world in one quiet death…mine. To be who I wish to be ....would frighten people To do what I wish to do....would hurt people To think what I wish to think....would make me insane What am I doing now?....I'm wishing.
Their hands my hands, touching Their needs my needs, wanting Their thirst my thirst, yearning Woven words of worlds tangled within dreams of realities never to happen What is it, this missing piece one hungers to claim? Fantasy
He has my body pinned beneath him Filling me and draining me; Loving me and hating me; raising me up and subjecting me. The center of his world The reason for him The light to his dark How can I not love him ...My Master. Two rooms...two lives, together but separate Should I feel secure when I come in and you leave? The bed is for two yet usually only sleeps one The kisses are there The hugs are there But few and far between. I know it is my fault as well. Remember when a shoulder is offered to a head that is afraid, it means so much more then endearing words that can be said in passing.
You see me through artificial spirits that cloud your eyes and your step I can sense it before you tell me; it hurts You tell me it's because I am too much to handle...I am overwhelming Why can't you understand I want to be overwhelming Not obscured...then forgotten. The point is hollow will it fulfill my dreams? With a light pull it will start a chain reaction That will release the kinetic energy into my brain Will the end let me begin again?
Release, cherish and become shadow Dark, sublime, honest Its not nightmares but normality that frightens me Being blind with perfectly good eyes Seeing plastic, being plastic, yearning for more plastic Being real is to be shadow to me Dark looking out towards...knowing.
How can I explain that there is a need inside that there is a desire, which burns what I cannot hide It is a call, a sending, a beckon for my romancer I expose the flesh and wait for the answer Ah, to feel the ivory points of love part my skin, from which the dance of immortality would begin Each impale me with the softness of silk, and then he begins to suckle as if on mother’s milk. The warmth escapes my body, the vibrations stir form within he moves over me with tenderness, I ask, how could this be sin? Love me I say to the dream of night and shadow, pierce my heart with your eyes all a glow. My mind then heard his voice softly proclaim you are my love as the night is in my vein. With that I let go of my earthly tether and embraced my night lover for now and forever….
He is RealHe is real to me…even if he can not exist. His form; pale, slim, muscular...haunts my mind To be with him; close, loving…safe. To talk to him; not with words…knowing To exchange with him that which makes me alive for that which is only in my mind
Imagination is his realm; it beckons to me Reality is harsh…to bright There is a small line that separates them, yet by a small line one can link them…forever He will come to me when I have the courage to create that line; when crimson existence magnifies both realms and within the light we will unite in the darkness of ourselves.
TOO MuchI dream, they say too much I wish they say to things I can not have I hope they say of times that will not be Yet, he is there…that is his place One of hope, wishes and dreams How can I not go to him? He motions to me with outstretched arms They say he is not real…he cannot be. Real…a word that haunts me Real…a word that is hard and cold Real…a word in which I am trapped But he rescues me each night as the ethereal space of fantasy envelops me. I dream with in his strong arms. And at least each night as I sleep in a state close to death, I can finally realize I am truly alive.
The PathWhere are the sign posts marking the way I’ve been told to look for them…yet I never find those described. Do I really need them? Hasn’t this all been planned? How simple is it? Or how hard…can it be? The path has been tread before – did I do this or was it come one before me? When was it new? I look back… Behind me the path is gone as it never existed, and before me it’s clear I stop The sign posts begin to appear in mass. Beckoning me forward. All I can do is simply turn around and walk away.
It's all around me I bring it...it's not mine but it comes to me...I attract it That is my gift Emotional and Spiritual pain are my specialties Physical pain only helps me focus Look forward to the ending of it End me Take away your pain Throw me away Take away my pain Kill me.
Why are Tears Clear?
by Brenda Rich
Once upon a time, you've heard it begin the tale We listen intensely to the story unfold for it will never fail ...to disappoint.
For the book closes, the words stop, the movie ends and the credits roll Then another day dawns where you fall.
To be happy is the goal, the dream of hope, the wish of a dream come true, the facade of optimism used as a mask to just get though Keep smiling for maybe just maybe it will become real.
Then you find that you know the truth for as you close your eyes for the final time, they will miss you for not more then a breath...and then their life goes on happily ever after.
by Brenda Rich
___________________________ By Sedona I took a long, long walk. I let the road guide me, But then I wondered how it would feel to wander free.
I took a long, long walk. I felt the breeze, the rain, the snow, But then I wondered how it would feel to grow.
I took a long, long walk. I let things happen instead of running the show, But then I wondered what would happen if I let another take control.
I took a long, long walk. I became tired and lay down to rest for just a bit, But then I wondered what would happen if I made it all fit.
I took a long, long walk. I realized that fulfillment came from doing it all. I no longer wondered. I saw the whole.
By Sedona
I’m not full of wisdom; I’m full of questions. Age does not make you smarter or wiser, It makes you realize how little you know, How much you want to learn, And how little time you have left to learn it.
I’m not full of hopes and dreams; I’m full of despair. Age brings the knowledge of all you’ve missed – Opportunities gone forever, Possibilities never realized.
However, the chance still exists To make a difference, To teach the young and the dreamers To never let their dreams blow away.
_________________________
DAN SCHMUCKER
by tenderness of touch and closeness in Heart and Soul. God Knows.
I have such hopes and dreams.
the dying world crave the Essence of it. God Knows.
That is where I need to leave it. God Knows.
DAN SCHMUCKER When the day dawns, And I am not wanting to get out of bed When I am rummaging through my gradually heightening Senses like a summer garage sale hit by marauders... When I am plodding toward the coffee maker I see you in the sunrise. I see the array of color and awe that holds my eyes Until I am again reminded There IS beauty to be embraced. I see you in the sunrise.
During the day When the ugliness of the world around me Invades my space and time, I see your picture, tucked away for times like this... You have invaded where the darkness had crept, And I can breathe in more deeply the goodness that cannot be crushed... I see you inside my smile. You roam freely in my heart And rise when I need you. And in the midst of backed up traffic, Snarling faces... Harried and hurried expressions, I see you. And I smile, from the inside out.
At the day's end, When I am tired and wearied by the day's scolding, At those times I really want to see you. And then I find you. I see you in the sunset. I see you at that time when the Creator Paints the horizon in color and glorious reminders There IS beauty. There IS hope. There IS promise.
I love you. ______________________________ By Dan Schmucker 2005 We are in the Holiday season, with its myriad of symbols, and an avalanche of retail commercialism. Retail competition heightens and the marketing of the season seems to supersede the real and deeper meanings. We are pitched beer, wine, whiskey, vodka, and champagne on the surface, and methamphetamines, cocaine and marijuana in the shadows to celebrate the times of note. We clink the bottles and glasses, but the connections are usually not much deeper than the bottom of the container. We are urged to buy clothing and games, toys and vehicles . . . dare I forget diamonds? During the holiday season, we are subjected to sale upon sale, often of merchandise we really have to convince ourselves is worth buying. We watch and hear stories of living nutcrackers, snowmen who come to life, elves and flying reindeer. It is easy to become cynical in the morass of messages. The desires we have of family unity, true love, close friendships, loving children, and hearts of joy with thanksgiving are very real. The discordance we experience in our everyday lives when placed next to our dream network can nudge us toward sarcasm. People are selfish – we see that daily driving on our way to work, and while getting in lines at stores. Our kids want more even after they have just received more. We become disillusioned after opening the boxes and finding there were only material objects inside, not the happiness and contentment we had hoped for . . . the wrapping and ribbons, bows and glitter are carted to the trash or the hearth, the box to the dump, and our hopes held in reserve. Where your heart is, there will your treasure be also. While it may not always take some effort to obtain True gifts, doesn't it require more than the superficial to realize the treasure? There is the need for our descention to deeper levels of honesty. The need for our minds to re-consider what is really important, what really matters and for what we are settling. A frightening need to evaluate who we are, how we are, where we have been, and where we are headed should become apparent. The Door to that place is daunting, intimidating. Only the brave will enter. But bravery is the taking of action despite fear, not the absence of it. It is in this scenario, where the shadows grow loud, and our deepest and darkest fears lurk nearby like a panther near a cattle bin, that we must decide to fight rather than continue to run. Perhaps the Answer is not so obscure. Maybe Help is not so distant. Immersed in the stew of images and stories is one from centuries ago, when hope was dimmed to a smoldering wick in times of oppressive Darkness. The renderings of the event still abound, but the depictions have long since divorced the Reality. At times it seems to have been buried in cliché, but the story is far from trite. Luke 2 (New King James Version) New King James Version (NKJV) Copyright © 1982 by Luke 2 1 And it came to pass in those days that a decree went out from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be registered. 2 This census first took place while Quirinius was governing Syria. 3 So all went to be registered, everyone to his own city.4 Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judea, to the city of David, which is called Bethlehem, because he was of the house and lineage of David, 5 to be registered with Mary, his betrothed wife,[a] who was with child. 6 So it was, that while they were there, the days were completed for her to be delivered. 7 And she brought forth her firstborn Son, and wrapped Him in swaddling cloths, and laid Him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.
8 Now there
were in the same country shepherds living out in the fields, keeping watch
over their flock by night. 9 And behold,[b]
an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone
around them, and they were greatly afraid. 10 Then the angel said to them,
“Do not be afraid, for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy which
will be to all people. 11 For there is born to you this day in the city of
David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. 12 And this will be the sign
to you: You will find a Babe wrapped in swaddling cloths, lying in a
manger.” 13 And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the
heavenly host praising God and saying: cf1c]15 So it was, when the angels had gone away from them into heaven, that the shepherds said to one another, “Let us now go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has come to pass, which the Lord has made known to us.” 16 And they came with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the Babe lying in a manger. 17 Now when they had seen Him, they made widely[d] known the saying which was told them concerning this Child. 18 And all those who heard it marveled at those things which were told them by the shepherds. 19 But Mary kept all these things and pondered them in her heart. 20 Then the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things that they had heard and seen, as it was told them. "The True Light which enlightens every man was coming into the world." wrote John. There are some provocative thoughts here if we dare to look. Biblical writers clearly taught that nothing happens by accident. Nothing. Jesus, in the accounts of the writers of the Bible, is clearly depicted as Immortal God wrapped in human flesh. His arrival, birth place, events in his life, and even how He would die were predicted in over three hundred separate and specific prophesies, and over a period of centuries. Jesus, the Co-Creator of the Universe, is born in a manger – not the Jerusalem Hilton. That surely would not have been the choice of a birthplace for kings of that or any other era. He was born in a manger, a feeding trough for farm animals! We should not pass by Luke's description of the baby's clothing, either – swaddling cloth was also used for burial . . . The context of that statement is often lost in the urban perspective. After all, we have mostly moved away from the countryside and entered the cities long ago. This is where it takes us – to a place few dare to tread, fewer stay to reel in what is shown us, and a sparse remnant commits to heart. Dare we go where the shepherds, who had long ago become outcasts (they had even lost their right to vote) went? If this story is true, and bear in mind it has NEVER been disproven, IF this story is True, a remarkable thing has happened. Since there are no accidents, the Creator chose to be wrapped in flesh like one of us. He chose to be born to a teen-age girl in a small town in the Middle East where war wages still, and to have a construction worker as His stepfather. At the time of His birth, He was wrapped in cloth commonly used for burials, and then placed in an animal feeding trough. He was visited and adored by outcasts. None of this was by accident. Let that seep into the pores of our weathered skins and into the deserts of our hearts where we can be refreshed – none of this was an accident. Here we can drink in deeply. The Creator is showing all generations, including ours, that He is not here for the perfect people. Not for the ones who believe they have no needs, no brokenness, no damaged and brittle lives, no broken hearts . . . He came for us. He starts in a place of filth, much like our hearts, which have become hardened and calloused by our wars. There was no room for Him when He was needed so badly, and the message is so clear for you and me. There was no room in the finest of places. That means you and I can afford to drop the pretenses, lower the masks, sweep away some of the rubble in our embittered hearts, and allow Him in – to birth Light in us, so that we can truly become enlightened, to teach us how to be loved and how to love, to show us how to be forgiven, as well as how to forgive. What a Gift. A Holiday that can be embraced in the midst of battle. A Hope that can be tightly held in the darkest of nights. What a Gift. ______________________________ Dan Schmucker January 13, 2007
In this cold, when ice has wrapped itself around my truck
Sometimes it seems like it must be my heart that is so cold...
Inside my truck, once the engine is started,
In the vehicle of my existence,
It reminds me ______________________________
Saturday, January 27, 2007
Your absence has prompted me to search memory for your places in my
life. There are the times we confronted strife and helped each other shoulder burdens.
I remember when you were battered - fighting your personal demons.
You helped me move.
Somewhere, in the hallways of time, your demons returned.
You called me.
(I am wishing you had deported those demons.)
Now the day of your death has scarred my heart... like the notches
on the handle of the gunfighter's pistol. ______________________________ by Dan Schmucker
When I came near, I could see the lantern glowing.
That castle is formidable. It can repress most assaults.
Now in your castle, you think you are safely nestled from the
storms
When you were younger, you Believed.
Then you embraced those who were not ready to love. Not willing to
live in Truth.
I know you retain hope for a future time sequestered in your Soul,
I hope you will one day you exit the fortress- ______________________________ By Dan Schmucker
I find myself driving through these canyons
So many twists; so many turns
There are barriers of concrete
And here I am rolling down these canyons
There are skid marks on the concrete
If I allowed myself to listen
I am driving through these canyons,
The sky is growing darker
I turn on the headlights
So many twists; so many turns
There are barriers of concrete
Where others crashed into the walls ______________________________ by Dan Schmucker April 8, 2007
Is this it? Is this what we allowed ourselves to be reduced to? Muted indifference instead of genuine involvement? Rote communication instead of interest? Habituated touch instead of intimacy?
Whatever made us think Fire needs no fuel? What contemptuous mind set told us Love needs no connection to a Source?
We have become like a crow with only one wing, who’s forgotten its destination. Wishful thinking and day-dreaming is not enough to keep us on shaky feet. Couldn't we feel the drifting? Couldn't we hear the sounds of separation? Now we stare in the coals of what should be fire When the shadows have grown loud.
______________________________ by Dan Schmucker
25 April 2007
I am straining to see Tears well up in my eyes, and I fight to keep them from tumbling over the walls When I close my eyes, I think they will spill out, and I will be exposed. My throat has that sensation … That if I start to speak, the words will strike the place in my heart that is valiantly trying to restrain the tears, and my voice will crack. My thoughts are alternately freezing - affording me the chance to hold back one minute, and then running, dancing about in my head, and tottering tenuously on the precipice the next. Time stretches. The moment seems to be in an eerie suspension. Did you say something? I watch your lips move and hear sounds corresponding to the movement… The processing inside takes what seems to be excruciatingly slow I know I am expected to reply But my heart is not in it. My eyes dart away… The sensation in my throat rises to the base of my mouth, and I swallow hard, hoping to send it back, away from the region where words and worse may escape. I manage to raise my eyes. I look at you, directly into your eyes. This time I will not yield. The silence, which has commanded an audience, has taken Character. The God Who molded me will surely pour Grace into me, and I will be renewed. I will stand in His Grace. I will trust in His mercy I will not yield, but to Him I am straining to see…
______________________________ by Dan Schmucker
30 April 2007
Even the word’s composition sparks visions. We are like ships, housing our Souls as we navigate about an ocean of time and space.
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