Original Christian Poetry

Poem lyrics pending.

Oh sing again of her, The shield maiden of the cross She free of vanity Her battlefield she crossed. Oh tell again of her courage Her humble peasant faith That placed heaven itself into her arms And quieted that debate. How swift of foot that nimble soul An eagle high that yields to the wind How she soared, to follow Him, and How she still flies, soaring, By His side. Her eyes may pierce the fallen Her eyes so like Her sons, She has been given leave to bring warning, To every country, every people, everyone. She calls us little children, For the expanses of her heart In knowing and Loving Christ, To us would seem Frightful Depths, And we would miss its delight… That even this great Lady, Is but a dove in the Lord's magnificence, She is our shield maiden of eternity, And is defiant to all our indifference.

You say my Jesus is a fantasy A fairy story, an ancient myth, with zero worth. You so frightened of this intimacy, That comes along with the second birth. Like a mother and a child are likened to one flesh So too all those who are reconciled, To begin again, and start afresh! There IS no earthly equivalent For what takes place in the converting heart. There IS no earthly metaphor For the sting of that fiery dart. There IS nothing I can tell you Lest the Holy Spirit Himself brings illumination, Only then can understanding dawn, And you'll plainly perceive your destination. So I am terribly sorry, My lament is not a lie, If you've yet to receive that brightness, To change and sharpen your eye. It is ought a mystery, How some are yet to come to Faith, But know that we the faithful, pray for you, To enter in those blessed gates.

Oh my beloved Champion, With hatred always comes And ending. But with Love Comes always, A beginning. An assurity Of depending. And in my daily Loving You I daily make a new start. And in my depending upon you, I am quickened with another beat of my heart! Oh Champion unforgetting – Where hatred demands the sacrifice of another, But with Love, we are called to sacrifice, Ourselves for our sister and brother. This the heart of the Champion – This is the path of the wise, Seeing all eternity Through Gods own loving eyes.

I'll guide them to my Jesus, No matter the scope, or type of their pain. No matter the depth of their woundedness, No matter the cause of the shame. Please don't think me shallow For this “one size fits all” approach, Please don't think me lazy, Fit for a reproach. For even if I were a Doctor, Who could provide the body with healing, I cannot offer eternal life, No matter the intensity of my feelings. For even if I were a lawyer Who could preserve the reputation, And keep my client out of the dungeon cell… I cannot preserve anyone from the dim dark fortress of Hell. For even if I were a teacher Who could instruct in a right good way, I am not the Author of Truth, Who brought forth the night and the day. For I am just a human, A lucky one who knows Gods own name! I know that in Him and Him alone, Rests Salvation for us, the slain.

The birds do not gossip That they should prefer better songs, Than those given them by the Creator, They do not mumble that He was wrong. The mighty stars in their orbit Do not mutter about it being too far, That the Creator should expect such service, Never so complained a single star. All the rugged and noble animals, In the wind and the sleet and the snow, They do not boast of their better knowledge, They do not sell what they know. Show me one atom that opposes HIM, The Great One called; I AM. Only the Devil demands independence from HIM, And with this same madness, he poisoned man. All of creation follows Gods leading, Animals, Plants, Planets and seasons, They require no explanation, And suffer to give none their reasons. Only mankind and the Devil himself Would prefer the Outer Darkness to the Lord… Only mankind and the Devil himself, Believe they alone ought be adored.

Oh my heart... What art thou That I must needs have charge of thee? What child that I must choose what Nourishment to feed, and what medicine to heed? But thou art my own guide, My guardian and keeper So it is right that I should guard thee And keep thee with all diligence, Oh Doorway for my redeemer... Beloved heart, and wicked lair... How deep do thy chasems roll? How eternal thy skyward sunrise How ineffable thy friendships stole? To be my greatest allie, Oh most intimate enemy of mine... To lead me into or out of eternity, Like a casual passer by... Solomon said "Oh who LORD, can lead these people all Your own?" "Give unto me an understanding heart, Leave me not to tarry alone." From that hour onward he could Interpret the swaying of the trees... He could understand the far flung stars... And the voices of the birds with ease. I cannot understand those things, I look but still fail to see... I pray but know not what for, As I drift in a never ending sea. Oh Lord what a responsibility! To give me a human heart... Only Our Lord and His Lady, Could make of them exquisite art! Oh Lord, what a treasure in my keeping, I feel like a mother with a babe... Let me not sin against it, Let me not lose it to the grave... What is a heart, this woundable thing... What is a heart, that when full makes us sing. What is a heart, this tabernacle of Christ, What is a heart, this vessel of life... For too many, too many, It is but a cauldron of death, Full of idolatry And still not full yet... For too many too many, The heart is the pit... Full of snares and thorns, And bitter wit. Beloved, my Jesus, come tame This wild land... From my planes and my valleys, To the deep ocean sands... Beloved, my Jesus, do not let me grow wild, Help me, and tend me, Thy wayward lost child. Beloved, My Jesus, Grow in this tomb, Make an eternity Out of this fortress of doom. Listen oh Heart! Be supplicant and obey, Follow then Our Jesus, The True Life and The Way. Listen, oh vessel! listen, oh earth! Become Thou then worthy, Of the gift of Thy birth.

Please Consider Her Again.

And the seed of the serpent, The child of murder most foul, prepared to speak his heart aloud - "I do not need to KNOW him! Whoever this mortal soul might be - I know I already hate him - With a perfect enmity." And we heed also the servant, The child of the Lord most true, spoke then also plainly, an opposing picture drew: "I also do not need to know him either - whoever this mortal soul might be - I know I already love him - who was made to the image of the Deity." And the foe stood glaring. The Saint; serene. A more perfect opposite only once to be seen. In that of our Jesus, gentle, Facing Satan's cruel eyes, The moment before our Lords cruel, sacrificial demise. But Lo then for the wicked! Who thought they'd killed the Son - Who upon His cross defeated sin - Each and every one.

My mother, my beloved Queen Mary - your words so pure, you city of God - Even the most basic of your precepts - And I swoon with the poetry of thereof... Oh Lady, oh the nearest to a goddess the world will ever know - But thy start was purely mortal, and thy stock; human, I know. But Lady, though pure human, were kept from the raving madness of sin - But you, gentle woman - perfect from when thou didst begin. Only one kept to such purity Could bear the Lord in her womb - For any other sin stained woman - The fire would lead to the tomb. Like the purest Gold of the Ark of the Covenant, is the flesh that encased our great Lord - Only one perfectly abstinent, who never for one moment ceased to adore... If love is the glass-like surface, In which the refection of the beloved is seen - Then she is the most perfect reflector - Showing a true image of Him, sent to redeem. Source Documents: Mystical City of God Vol 1, 2, 3 & 4 is a book written in the 17th century by the Franciscan nun Venerable Mary of Jesus of Ágreda. According to María de Ágreda, the book was to a considerable extent dictated to her by the Blessed Virgin Mary and regarded the life of the Virgin Mary and the divine plan for creation and the salvation of souls. The work alternates between descriptions of the Trinity, the Virgin Mary's life, and the spiritual guidance she provides to the author, by whom her words were reproduced for the spiritual benefit and growth of the reader. The book describes at length the various virtues, and how the reader should live in order to see them reflected in their own life, with the Virgin Mary as their model for sanctity.

Oh Loves sweet strange beginnings - What a mystery is found in thee? What special doorway in thou is't, leading to eternity? Love has in its character - And like a mirror behaves - To turn the reflection of the lover, Into the beloved so craved. When a boy admires some hero, he'll walk and talk and act the same - When a girl admires some example - she'll model herself, and twin that flame. When a woman loves her child, She is transformed into a mothers grace, She is transfigured in her manner, bearing the same, but so different a face. When a man is a lover of money, protecting his big pile of gold - He slowly transforms into a dragon, only by a cold hold consoled... Love in the natural is dangerous! Of earthly things breeds but death... But love given to the innocent, that love is a bringer of breath... Love so enraptures the mortal heart - For the divinity burns away all deceit - Love ennobles and steals away, Making this world obsolete.

The Bride-groom is coming, To collect His Church, The Bride - He is not coming back for pieces, But a one whole and fully alive. A body divided against itself, Are the remains of a sad cold corpse - It cannot think, it cannot breathe, It neither smiles, frowns nor talks. A body divided against itself is useful for nothing, Except to be mourned - And those who did the fateful hacking, Murderers all to be scorned. Oh you! The many Churches! You; the varied denominations of The Faith! How you've forgotten your first love! And traded Him in for a fierce debate! If you cannot love each other, Breatheren, Here on the miserable earth, How then will you get along in heaven? You who declare you alone have some worth... Not one of the denominations is perfect! ALL fall far short of God's glory - You'd think you'd all remember that, With the many retellings of His Story. Stop being boastful! Stop being so proud! Stop belittling others! You're making the Church a tent full of clowns... Where is the humble bride? Who'll draw water for the tired and the needy? Where is the expectant virgin? The Church who has her lamp and is ready? Where are her softest sighs - Awaiting her beloved in peace? Where is the bride? The who He was sent to release? Put away your squabbling, Oh Church of Christ - He may come for you this very night - Perchance to find you ill prepared - At the locked gate left then - Standing there. Oh Lord, please send your bride Some word, some hope, Some warning signs - Least she be unprepared, Least she should should die... Least she should forget at all, That she is your faithful bride

Who is the public for whom I perform? Who, when I grieve them, am I left hard forlorn? Who do I write for, alone in my bed? With whom do I seek council, alone in my head? Heaven is my public. The angels critique - The saints observe my career daily, When I am obedient or weak. All the souls of Heaven are my audience, absorbed! And there at the high center, My beloved! My Lord! So in all my life's progress, Each morning to touch my foot to stage, To egress from this world, Through battles, wars to wage! I fight against the Devils - I fight against my sin! I fight the seductions of this world That yet my soul might win! My Lord supplies me armour - My Lord supplies me hope. My Lord supplies me ardor - Of an infinite, unending scope! So all these days of mercy, When I'm upon this stage - Do I give to my Lord freely, Till I am ripe and grey with age.

All of the earth's children, from 1920 to 2005, Were recipients of many blessings, that he prayed for the youth while he was alive. His faith and hope and life professing – Trusting in what the Lord saith and addressing The Universal call to holiness, That controversial call melodious – To lay down the world, and take up your cross – To gain eternity, disguised as loss. We are a special generation, of that there is no doubt, The spirit alive with salvation, when all predicted it was fading out. His prayers armed the children of the Lord, Upon us light, and loved was poured – That the spirit called and claimed us – Enthralled and inflamed us – And like the passion of the ancient saints, We caught again a glimpse of those mighty gates. That lead to a world of perfect love, To make visible on earth, God's kingdom above. St. John Paul's prayers for our grace, Advocating in our place, His intercession that he asked the Lord for, A faith that God would indeed provide, at his very core. This saint who walked with earthly feet, Prayed for children to be educated, Play, eat, and sleep, In peace and protected as a flourishing crop, A generation of the Lord whose blessings would not stop. Note from the poet: Today is the 23rd of September 2021, and in honour of Padre Pio, for his feast day, I am publishing this poem. God bless and keep you all. Amen.

Oh, sing again of her, The shield maiden of the cross She free of vanity Her battlefield she crossed. Oh, tell again of her courage Her humble peasant faith That placed heaven itself into her arms And quieted that debate. How swift of foot that noble soul An eagle high that yields to the wind How she soared, to follow Him, and How she still flies, soaring, By His side. Her eyes may pierce the fallen Her eyes so like her Sons, She has been given leave to bring warning, To every country, every people, everyone. She calls us little children, For the expanses of her heart In knowing and Loving Christ, To us would seem Frightful Depths, And we would miss its delight… That even this great Lady, Is but a dove in the Lord's magnificence, She is our shield maiden of eternity, And is defiant to all our indifference.

God is like Nature It pops up everywhere And even a little bit of it Can brightened even the worst sadness and despair. Even under concrete slabs And serious heavy blocks, Nature finds all the gaps To give us Dandelion moon clocks. Even around penitentiary barbs Brave vines break in! With petals and perfume, To brightened the terrible loneliness, And lift the deadly gloom. Try to keep the birds out, Or shush the crickets as they sing, It never tires of growing back, It will grow and blossom and spring! it will sprout! It will sprout! Try and hold great Nature back, And you'll just wear yourself out. So too our Great Gods love for us, Breaking and bursting through, As gentle as a seedling, As persistent as thick bamboo. But we insist to mow down the jungles of His goodness, To trim the edges and edges of His story, And then we have the audacity to mumble About a bourgeoisie lack of glory. But when we get tired of hemming Him in, And let His love for us grow wild a free, From stumps He'll regrow skyscrapers, And span wide the flower'd canopy. When we grow weary of saying, Our Lord doesn't show us His love, He'll regrow the palms gently swaying, And we'll hear the gentle cooing of His doves.

Oh, my sister, so many sisters, Throughout the ages, Oh loveless widow, Where is your husband? Oh, orphaned girl, Where is your father? You are both widow and orphan, People spit to say your name, Or see you, but “Truly,” He said, “Tax collectors and prostitutes are entering The Kingdom before you.” This will be to their shame; Who now hurt you, and swear at you, oh, my sister… A measure of a society Is how it treats its women. Oh, my sister, that charge is carved on you. Oh, how all society is measured by its neglect of you. I pray for the day, I can see you raised into glory, For He paid the same price, For virgins as for you. I long with all my heart To see you free of stain, To see you smile in victory, Your eternity to reclaim. That bright love of the Lord is yours, For you believed even at the preaching of John, At the very start, by the Baptismal shores. You were cleansed, And You were saved, From the indignity of the grave.

In becoming aware of my poverty, That I have not true life or true wealth, In realizing the authority, that, Belongs with the Lord alone, Himself. I then saw the great poverty, Even in the rich or well bread, I saw the spiritual malnourishment So much the worse than the want of bread. But want of Love is poverty, The worst kind of violence to slowly starve, That disfigures the original mortality, That cares not for others or even anymore, the self. This living death that frames loveless eyes, This “security” that never cries, That comfort of a well-stocked tomb, That sparkling and glamours doom. Oh, but if you tell them of their nothingness, They sneer and then turn it as proof, That they should do whatever they like, And thus, then remain then aloof… Humility cannot touch them, It feels only like useless humiliation, Oh, pray then for the prideful, like the poor, They live in every nation.

Why are the poor so numerous? Why is this so? On every corner a hundred hands, Begging for bread, God knows… When a poor man reaches out his Hand, asking for your blessing, He is actually offering you, The Kingdom of grace, in his disguise so distressing. For our loving Lord likes to make reply, To us for all our actions, And He rewards us generously, For providing the poor some satisfaction. So when the great Kingdom comes, And the damned all shout they had no help, All the poor will then stand up, Their robes bright, their hearts glad, For they made a permanent outpost, Offering ALL Gods hand. For as the poor accepted bread, From all kind souls who would give it, So they extended the Kingdom of Heaven, To all kind souls to receive it. The Kingdom of Heaven is available On every street corner of the earth, In showing kindness to the homeless and the starving, A chance at the second birth.

Oh beloved souls gone astray! Listen to what I have to say. Don't take for granted this beautiful day, Don't let it slip by you, to be gone away. For one fateful day is coming, And it's approaching soon – That the final church bell will be rung, The final sermon preached, some unknown afternoon Or morning, or evening, But there is coming a day Where the opportunity you have now, For Salvation, will be moved away. Oh yes beloved, you who say, The preacher's drone on and on Like a record forever on replay – But there will come a time, beloved, The very last day… Then the thunder will clap! The church bells hushed by the trumpet, Of the Angels doing as has been foretold, And there, laid bare, to whom your soul was sold. Then there will be no time for quick confessions, No time to purge the tar, No more time No more time… You are then what you are.

Oh blessed creature, Created to God's own form, How lost, berfet, how violent, And forlorn... How forgetful of your duty, Oh gentle touch come back to man - Or be forever attached unto misery, Unable before his Lord to stand. How I love them, And pity their forgetful state... So petty and shortsighted, But the hour, is very late. How might we rouse these sleepers, And share with them the treasure? How can we pull them free from their keepers, How might we tempt them away from pleasure? Surely, we have not the power, To do anything such as this... Only the Holy Spirt can change them, Only He can fulfill this wish. Come, Holy Spirit, Come, Save the children from their sea of tears. Come and ease their sorrows, Built up like prisons throughout The years. Let them break to freedom, To the kingdom fair and high, To look on their Creator, To finally realize why.

Oh flesh then unrelenting! Do not put demands to me! Thou fleshy and gross matter, is Not fit for eternity. Is that perchance why you're stubborn, And tempt me day and night, Because, oh flesh, You will not accompany my spirits noble flight? Bitter flesh, oh lustful glutton, You are but sensations slave. Would you lock both body AND soul, Into the humiliation of the grave? You really are a brute, oh flesh, Dull and uncomprehending - The night of eternity is drawing near, Allowing less and less reckless spending. Oh time so limited, The grey and the lines, Seem to multiply by littles each night... Oh time, so limited, Ceaseless are thy chimes, That pass so quickly in strange delight... But time once spent is coveted - By the lesser for the greater good light. If my body should be the home of the Diety, Know then thou place, as a servant, oh flesh, And do not boast yourself above your height, you are but a vessel of death... Oh body, I must leave you! I cannot lift you with my spirits wings - Oh body! I cannot receive you, This gift enwrapped in grosser things. The seedling must needs crack the seed. The clouds must outpour the rain, and The field, must set free it's grain - T'is for the body to release the soul, just the same. Little boat, doomed to sink, Body to go down in the blue blue drink - Soul to step on heavens shores - To wonders never entertained before

My Lord was not locked with chains of steel, But by bonds of love, tied by His own will. My Lord was not restrained with rope, But bound by the blessed and eternal hope. My Lord, His life, was not forcibly sold, But He gave His life, for His wayward fold. My Lord! My Love! Oh, Mystery… He came to die to set us free. The Beloved gave freely, what they thought they took, His gentle silence, hard mistook… Most beautiful, innocent, kind, humble man, my Lord! Lived in obedience to a higher plan, restored. He descended down the steepest fall, Into Hell itself, He broke its wall. He then resurrected to His body again, As proof, alive, over deaths dark shame. From thence Ascending the mighty road, To the Fathers Throne, went He alone. To take the seat at His right hand, And offer this passage to the likes of man. From thence our Lord will descend, At the very end, to conclude the story. He came once in poverty, The second time, He comes in Glory. Strong amassed with all His Saints, To crash again on Hells hot gates. To divide those who would accept His grace, From those who refuse and deny His face.

We are standing on the threshold, Of something made of God, Remember His wrath, Is as perfect as His Love… We are approaching tribulation Like no other generation has caught, And you who think you can Bring God down to the level of man, Are but naught! Sin has got to be reckoned with – All the sin that won't be confessed – Sin has got to be done away with, For the blood demands it, This forgotten blood of the oppressed! This great flood of violence, Of abuse and of neglect – This mighty God will topple Every high tower, Until there isn't one left. This Mighty Judge who offered To arm you with His own might and love, will judge the hearts of everyone, And know exactly what you're made of. Remember! Remember, this is the Mighty God. Remember, His wrath, Is as perfect as His love.

He crossed the distant dessert, He crossed the roaring sea. He crossed the distances to convert, To come and set me free. He crossed time and space for me. He crossed over into mere flesh, He crossed over into poverty... He crossed the straits and yet, He wasn't cross with me, For my weakness and my faults. In fact, He paid my ransom fee, Paid out of His precious vault. Then my Savior, my beloved, They hung Him on a tree, And there upon the painful cross, He died so we could live to be - Able to make our own great crossing. From Here, unto Him. So we might do the same, And return to Him again. Love is the boat we will travel in, To cross the forever sea, Love is the Prime Bass of all other virtues, If you have love, then Pilgrims you'll be. No matter if you have much learning, If you have not true affection, Then you cannot, yourself, make the crossing, you'll just be a sign pointing out a destination. But Oh, dear Pilgrim, if you love Him true, Though a thousand foes may oppose your steps, The Lord will take your hand and see you through. Though a million mountains stretch out to hold you back. Though the sky may threaten to fall, Though the pavement threaten to open, You'll be guided by the creator of All, Your Souls senses each awoken. Set Love and Charity as the compass of your soul, Follow that bright North Star, and ignore the loud world. Give as freely as you have received, And from the husk of old doubt, will grow new belief. God bless you dear Pilgrims, To complete your crossing in time, To make the brave journey, cross its fathoms, alive, And make of your frail human hearts, Restored and devoted shrines. There the beloved will shine within you, Making beauty where once you wore disgrace, You'll shine with the light of loves duty, All corruption will leave on you not one single trace. So Pilgrim, I greet you, And encourage your growth, Go read the great Saints and all that they wrote. Reform and repent, make good and try, Then beloved, when you die, you'll actually thrive.

Thank you Lord for my life, Thank you for all that has come about - Thank you for providing me Faith, When you could have left me in doubt. Thank you for my friendships, Honest good and true, And thank you for everything I learnt, From those less than true. Thank you for the common things, The gentle mornings in harmony and peace, Thank you for precious late night coffees, with beloved ones now deceased... Thank you for the memories, I absentmindedly made... Thank you for every color, I can remember, and now with me, forever, stays. Thank you for the heart breaks, That have made me softer with my tears - Thank you for not always giving me what I wanted, Thank you for giving me so many years. Thank you for the comfort I have received, When my heart was downcast, locked in grief, Thank you for the friends like these, Who make me smile again, as if with ease. Thank you for the unexpected arrivals, Of friends, of foes, and choice - Oh Lord, I thank you for my voice... Thank you for songs and rainstorms and kitchen frogs, Thank you for mulberries and bicycles, and puppy dogs. For all the beauty I've ever seen, Is from your storehouse of light, oh King... I am in awe of how much you've done already for me, Oh my beloved, my heart can only but sing... I could never list all the beauty I see, I can only be still, and remain, contented then with Thee.

My Mary let these hands be yours, Joyfully place them to do some chores. My Mary help me sow good feeling, That comes after some humble cleaning. My Mother Mary teach me what all to do, To mop or brush or sweep or sew. My mother taught me these things blossom much love, In the bosom of the Heart of God above. Set me please humble tasks - Keep me praising throughout - Then I will glimpse sweet eternities font, and I will be in no more doubt. That I belong to my Creator, and He delights when I do good - That He'll take me sooner or later, and I praise Him like I should. I may praise as a faithful daughter, Even with my hands in dish water. I may humbly hum a homily or hymn, In the dirt of the garden, as I contemplate Him. I am unoffensive to the angels when I am engaged in cleaning, Like celestial chimney-sweeps are they to me, this great gift revealing. As our beloved Jesus did observe, It is far greater to serve, than to be one who is served. So my Mary, let these hands be yours, Teach me the virtue of some humble chores... Oh my Mary, Thank you Lady, You are revealing to me at last, The heights of Heaven, can be attained through humility's downward path.

Oh my love, before I go, Before my soul must ascend, Oh let me tell you what I know, Before my breaths must end. When I see that light place, Nestled in God's great embrace – When those rolling hills of spring, I shall then wander in – I know I will be able to rest forever On the heart of my loving Lord, Knowing that I undertook every endeavor, To share with you this great reward. I know my soul shall find its rest, When I have followed my Lord's behest, To encourage you to seek him true – To understand He came for, and He is calling you. Before I go – Before I go – Let me tell you what I know. Before I sleep – Before I sleep – Let me share my secret deep.

My Beloved Jesus I pray for them. And with gravity I place these precious lives into Your plans. Entrusting you, my Jesus, With these my little ones, To and from Thy divine hands. In truth my Lord it is fair to say, That they are all really your little ones, You've entrusted into our hands today. I place them into your hands, Just as you place them into mine. You know the number of their strands, You know the plans I can't understand. Oh, help me my Jesus, to show them to You – Help me to show them your goodness, your truth. Help me to comfort them whenever they're blue – Help me to show them, their best friend is You.

You share the lot of your master As if he were your father, And you but a little child, who shares the whole part as son or daughter. Those who take their inheritance from Satan, Inherit the World and its treasures. They aspire toward the lap of luxury And swim in fleshly pleasures. They abhor all humility Zealously avoid pains – Seeing the only ‘reality' Of living life by gains. Those who take their inheritance From Jesus, Give this life in preparation for the next, With meek and humble striving, A constant living quest. They partake of the sufferings, And give themselves to charity, to pray for a world, lost, in forgetful strange barbarity. Satan extols the High Life, Jesus proclaims the low, Whatever then we grow, Is whatever we have sown. Tethered for eternity Will every soul then be – To the master they have loved And served, with total Fixity. All humans engage in worship, Of some idol, some god, some desire - We turn our lives around our loves, Spiraling lower or higher. In the end it's not our sin That condemns us, But our abhorrence Of Jesus as Lord – The only one who can commend us, Is the sovereign one over all.

Lord I was born and you gave me strength, A tiny beating heart, and along I went. As a little thing I learned to love, My mommy, my grandpa, but I didn't yet know you, God. As I grew you gave me choice, My heart found beauty, Through song, my voice… Songs of love, and dreams of grandeur To warm the blood, with nobilities' valor… My little heart fully engaged, With the romance of that perfect golden age. That golden visage for all does shatter, With encroaching steps upon our youth. How this weary life our hope does batter. How that imagined vista slowly shrinks, How those lofty dreams of splendor, In the darkness slowly sinks. I searched again for comfort, To quicken me as once before, Parties, and lovers, cynical science, Anything I might worship and adore. I left no spice untasted. I left no flesh untouched. I left no opportunity wasted. But it didn't add up to much. I learned clever philosophy, These Christians, with a laugh, Where the first dismissed. Then I turned my oh-so-cleverness, To a never ending check-list… Oh beloved Lord, you could have left me, To this sad blind fate. For it was by no power of my own, That darkness of the flesh that I escaped… When the Light of your great beauty came, It slew me! I was prostrate, face down on the floor! Aware suddenly, of that noble beauty, Oh God, you alone are worthy to be adored. All the rest of life's distractions can leave me, Please go, they must depart. For I desire now the Ancient love, I have been given me, a new heart. A heart that beats solely for Thee. I am nothing but dust before the Almighty. So changed am I, as if awakened – I have glimpsed it, and it has taken, All captivity of my soul… My old desires are like rags to me now, It seems all so stupid, what I once found high-brow. Parties and lovers and adventures and bliss, Like ash in the mouth, like a tragic abyss… I can tell you where the earthly me died. I can take you to the place, recite the day and the hour. Wherein this useless vessel, Was touched by true power. Through no merit of my own, I received a new heart. I received a New North Star, And I made a new start… What I had been so quick to dismiss, In my hasty youth, Now shone within me, impossible to resist, An anomaly of Truth. Conversion comes in many shapes, Sometimes gentle, sometimes rough. But for all us converts, It is perfect, and it is enough.

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The higher fires burn of Peace, Promising the captives sweet release… This Lady clothed in sunshine, See, the Moon is even under her feet, Oh pray you may attend the blessed feast! All eyes will yet behold it, And know what she has done for man, As the perfect Author unfolds it, The Lord is waiting, to take your hand. Shouts of jubilation, Tears so sweetly wept, The whole grey Earths exaltation, Put in order, and cleanly swept. Oh Mary! Great Beloved! Princess of Peace, Lady of the humble Angels, Mistress of the Deep! Do the work that you Were made for, Let us mortals be in awe, Along with all of God's creation, Open up the Treasure store… Women with our waxen hearts, Take deep the impressions of our loves – And you, gentle Lady, the perfect replica, Of that Holy Spirit, you mirror… You gentle dove. Thank you Lady, God bless you still! You have never faltered in all perfection, And Lord knows, you never will!

Point of no Return A branch can only be bent so long, And then it can no longer be reshaped, It grows too thick, it grows too strong, Its posture fixed and change escaped… So too with a human soul estranged, Reaching the obstinacy of sin… It goes past the point of choosing to change, To a point where it can no longer begin… God can forgive any trespass, Indeed, any sinner need only confess. But WE can go beyond being able to regret, WE can lose the ability to ask Him To forgive and to forget… If we dance and sing too long in our dung heap, If we become too beloved of our devils, If we prance and fling too much that is too cheap, We become incapable of attaining to higher levels. Pity the soul that has reached that abyss, Their sinning too precious to repent, Pity them now without any hope or wealth left, Having lost any hope of ascent.

Beware those who would re-brand Jesus, And make him in their own image… So as to un-humbly proceed, To do much damage, with the false visage… The Communist Jesus, pleases. The Republican Jesus, squeezes. The Liberal Jesus, eases. The Pagan Jesus, freezes. He came to establish his own governance, Not simply sign off on one of ours. He came to remedy our ignorance, Not simply pass the hours. But the people, They lay their traps to grab him, Parade him around to boast. “We got him! We've got him! New Ticket prices we daily post. On the Door! Come see the greatest freak of creation, It's perfectly safe, we tamed him, He's not troublesome anymore! Anything we didn't like we've cleverly improved, We speak for him, his will removed. For he doesn't seem to say much anyway… But we got him! By Jove, we've got him! Now pay!” But he flies the fences of the fiends… The gentle giant, this one of peace… He cares less about denominations than you do. He cares way more for the outcasts than you do too. He stays with those who keep his ways, Walks with them, day by day, But he doesn't permanently loiter and stay. A father must withdraw his hand, If the child is ever to learn to stand. The hand of the father is then returned, And the child continues to grow and learn. A father must nurture and teach the young, Otherwise, invariably, they will go wrong. For this to happen, They need to listen to him, Not dictate to daddy, And tell him where to begin. These simplest truths, Are of great importance to him, Your fancy theology might be Intellectualized sin… Maybe before speaking, Go read what he said… He's shocking and uncomfortable, And he came back from the dead. Then speak to him humbly, Quiet and true, Then maybe, Just maybe, Are your prayers getting through. Don't settle for discounts, A coupon Christ, A safe and easy Jesus, Middle class nice and white… Don't settle for a counterfeit, Don't be sold a Red Herring, Don't go cheap on your immortal trip, With all your price comparing.

Since that precious moment, Wherein you won my soul, my love, All of me… I would cross greater straits to get to you, My beautiful beloved, You so won me, that, Well, I have such a hunger now for souls… Not for myself, of course, but to guide them some Little way to you… To that gorgeous vista, Wherein we sat together… Oh my beloved, too beautiful to behold, I had to look away, To look again and find you looking back at me – I feel in that moment struck, as if dead, And more alive than I've ever been. Oh darling! The world is a better place, Now you're here… Oh that knowledge, I need to share it…

Oh, my Lord above! This is my sinners' lot! Though I came from Thy own hand, Some goodness I forgot. If I am bound to be a sinner, Let me sin as I here do write, Let me then sin, my Lord, in this hue of light. Oh Lord let me be slothful, Lazy to jump to any anger, Slow and heavy to any rage – Lord let my hatred be slothful till I am ripe and old with age. Oh, Lord let me be envious Of more pious hearts than mine, Let me be green with my envies, To see all gestures good and kind – Oh Lord make me so prideful That I cannot turn away from to see, Any loss of humanity through bleakest poverty. Oh Lord make me wrathful To my every evil thought. Oh Lord make me stubborn Against things I ought think not. Oh my Lord bless me abundantly with Greed! That I may collect smiles and cares, Let me hoard and count them daily, These my most precious wares. Lord make me a glutton of healthy fruit and veg, Make me drink like a drunkard upon fresh water, and grow Spinach in my garden beds. Oh my Lord make me lustful, For life and love and song – And help me find my virtues From this plethora of wrongs.

Remember, beloved, Our Lord is a person, The Original Person, who's blueprint we all match, To whom we may nurture a connection, Who through fellowship we may deeply attach... One with moral capacity, Willpower to choose, An intellect to understand, To give consent or to refuse... It is vitally important, To understand this fact, You're dealing with a person, Not something abstract... One who has Perfect knowledge, A perfect Father to love and encourage. One who has perfect wisdom, To lead us out of our barbarism. One who is perfectly, eternally strong! Who is totally incapable of leading us wrong! If the Holy Spirit does something, it is absolute perfection! No earthly human can imitate the brilliance of that reflection... He is a person with emotion, my weakness moves Him so, He cares about my infirmity, and wants His love made known. Just as each thumb print, is unique To each one who will ever live, So too are we each stamped, By our Lord, and we are His... Our names are carved into the very palm of his hand, Oh beloved, He loves you, Try to understand.... We are made for fellowship, To hear His voice, But He will never force us, It is our free choice.

I thought it was faithfulness, To be so prepared to die... I see it was actually a lack of faith, To say too early to this life goodbye... I saw the deaths of the martyred saints, And that clinched for me the quiet debate - Even my Jesus had a painful demise, Why should I hope for a better goodbye? Surely He cares for my spirit alone, My flesh only there for which to atone, My flesh alone a passing mirage... A target for the unending barrage... But I see now, that was terribly wrong, A trick of the Devil, to sing that old song, of "Nobody loves you, you are alone don't you see? Here, have more disappointment and lack of belief!" "He says he loves you but he leaves you to cry, Thousands of years of injustice, Of miserable lives…" But lo, that type of thinking makes, Many a theological bad mistake... That turns Gods promises into a lie... That says He doesn't care if I live or die... Though this life is not our final port, He did not make us for terror and to give us no support… Though we do live in an age of despair, Our Lord is loving, and seeks our care... We have us each an angel, We have each all the saints, We have His own beloved word To comfort our desperate straits... We have the Holy Spirit, Our comfort and our Hope, From the deepest pits, a solid climbing rope.... But more than these persons who are invisible to see, God gave me to you, and God gave you to me. If we don't care for each other, beloved, who will? It is what we've been sent to learn, the lesson to instill... Do not turn your back on all people, Just because some are wicked and bad, This is why we congregate under the steeple, For the best earthly support, we've ever had. Friendship is real, and love is true, It is meant for others, And for me, and for you. If we are not there for each other, Yes, all that is left is just a sad life and death... But if we have friends for to live for, We can bravely say "No not yet!" He wants us alive, healthy and strong, To have the courage to love, To strengthen these bonds. For these bonds of friendship, Of familial care, Are the very net that will pull us, From the black waters of despair. Pity the one who falls down alone, Who in the wild winds is battered and blown… Pity the one who has no friend to help them, By this very isolation they are condemned… A companion is a treasure, and can lift you when you fall, You can progress through any weather, Together, you can face it all.

How ineffable the Holy Spirit, What a rare and precious Sprite. How infallible, as God does will it, It's very presence; true delight. As unprocurable as the foggy mountains, As deep as the starry abyss, As fresh as the clearest fountains, So much the more, lovely, than all of this. As the air is always silent, Yet is present everywhere. As the wind can bear no confinement, And goes wherever it cares. So too the precious spirit soars, That personality of Love, That Divinity made to touch all shores, The living Charity thereof. Just as none can grasp the wind, Or hold a mighty gale in the hand – So too none can take hold of The Spirit, As it is much superior to man. Beloved, truest beauty, true light! Come dwell with us, give us life! Active, moving, living God! Bring us Thy blessings, of exquisite love.

My God of Light and of Love Divine! Show me what is truly mine. Naked I came with nothing at all, And without any possessions again I will heed your call. Teach me Lord, my love to sing, To understand this to you I might bring. My natural heart which is bowed to you, That wealth of soul is Treasure True. Gold is too heavy and dense for to take, Amassing possessions is a mortal mistake. Though I may work the land to fruitful yield, I must leave it behind, for it is only a field. Accolades grow dim and silent still, Popularity cannot fill the striving will. A pretty face, becomes wrinkled and old, And health flies, and the warmth turns cold. What can I have that will not pass? Oh beloved, what then can last? Only you the miraculous Lord, Let me sail with you, who the seas outpoured. The one who made the noon day skies, The one who speaks with the stars at your side. The one who the Angels love and serve, The one who is the motion of the axial curve. Lord, what then can truly be mine? Only Thee! I give you my time, and all of me. Lord, what ship then can sail eternity's waves, To fashion boats from our coffins, and life from our graves. Send your Holy Spirit, take it I beg, not from me! That light, that bliss, that healing dream… Make of me an abode for you, You most loving, you most true. You gave me this hunger and called me near, Oh don't now deter me, or disappear. Do not delay me to my love, I am called, and I answer, my soul, thy dove.

Young Immortals Who is the young Prince of Heaven? The one, who this world, for the next abandon. Who is the young immortal on eternity's edge? The one who was stung by the Creators pledge. Who is the traveller of the Spirit Sort? The one who is an unraveller, Who wills, in short, Who is the sojourner of truth; Attainting to eternal youth. Who shall live past today? The one who all surpassed to say Past the limitations of the age; quote “I let the Lord, my heart assuage.” Who will see the Great Continent, at last, Shining Heaven, true and vast – The one who dies before they died, These ones then, are kept alive. And looking across the battlefield, Who then at all could emerge from this jungle? And the Lord answered simply saying: “Only the truly humble.” So be the wisdom of the wise, Look at yourselves through Heaven's eyes, Understand there are more dimensions to know, Gorgeous vistas where we can freely go. Lovely souls still encased in flesh, Who are persevering within their tests – These young immortals go each day unseen, Crossing the strait, the deep ravine… Emerging eventually to Heaven's gate, And all that there for them awaits – Eternal youth and splendour untold, Wherein eternity may then unfold.

Oh my Lord! Help me be, All the things you want from me. Oh Great Beloved, enact your stage, As you preside over age upon age… Teach me how to listen – Show me where to look – I know I shall be risen – You told me in your book. Oh when I beg of you speak to me – Guide me to the Bibles Shores. Where I may contemplate your mystery – Amid the daily sins and human wars… Oh my Jesus guide my rest – Guide my actions, even though my best, Is dust and soot and nothing at all, How we were sold at our terrible fall… Lord, lift me up, adopt me again… Clean me from my parents' shame. Adam and Eve sold me into slavery! Let me repair myself to you with much Diligence and bravery. Lord, I can do really nothing at all, Without you, I cannot even crawl… Anoint me please, let me work for Thee – Then I will be happy, Then I will be free.

There is an evil demonic clown, Called "Too Much Entertainment" He makes everything a gag reel, Keeping Good passive in tight containment... In a hostile circus tent, dirty with age, The people laugh despite their chains, At ever more hurtful, ridiculous spite, Laughing and howling day and night. If he keeps you playing, Demanding distractions, Like a drunkard swaying, Unaware of the nooses tightening contractions. Even the Devils freely admit Christ is king, Even the damned shrug and say the same thing... It is not that they do not know, They know the truth and refuse to slow, The evil that happens outside the tent, That polite society thinks doesn't exist... Oh, it exists! It thrives and survives, For who is left to counter it? Wake up sleepy peasants! You'll laugh yourselves to death! These vile entertainments, are not presents! You are wasting your precious breath!

Oh, I so lost in splendor – Lord increase my obedience to Thee – My every step and every falter – You shine brighter for me to see – But just as all have seen the Sun – Yet not a single one has touched it – Just as each being has barely begun – And seeking, driving near to clutch it. No one at all, can fully possess – But oh! How we suffer under the gentle caress. I am scorched by this love for Thee – Burnt clean of all other distraction – I am dipped in eternal torment – Of insatiable satisfaction – How long! How long! Before my final close of day? When all else will leave me and I am Yours to stay? I will loiter near the portal, to divine eternal rest – In anticipation of my death day, my day I may be blessed. How far! How far! Forever must I strive, If I wish my soul to be for You, A fit and faithful bride. I weep to behold your beauty, and I am grateful to purgatory – Let it clean me, and bedeck me – Let it make me right for Thee – Even if a thousand years must burn me – It will pass as the sweetest melody. Oh! Keep me not from my beloved, one hour more than needed – Leave me not exposed and uncovered, let Thy power not be ceded. The challenger who would like to eat my soul, And throw me out to its tragic abyss – Knows too well Your seductive love – And will do anything to prevent this – This yearning that has lodged in me – This bliss that leaves me stubborn – Laugh at me humanity, you who've forgotten love – Cling to your earthly trinkets, While I leave all, to go above. Oh burn me in your jealousy – Make noise in all your rage – Work hard then for your master, Use up all your days. But I will sing of sweetness Of love so perfect and so pure I will sink me down in meekness And find my every cure. Leave me – I leave to follow my beloved, Every footstep I want to copy – Every treasure of this life is hollow, and uncovered, Whole kingdoms passing fields of poppies. For I seek the love eternal – the life that lasts forever – With sincerest love; perfection, the truest vital treasure.

Lord, I thank you for my nightly dreams, These places I have gone to, These things that I have seen, These terrors I have gone through These warnings that intervene. Thank you for preparing me, Showing me what I couldn't understand, Thank you for giving the symbol key, For sending the Holy Spirit to expand; These vivid dreams I've had every night Some of which caused me trauma, despite, Some of them being, more lovely than I can ever say, Huge landscapes of deep beauty, far far away. Thank you Lord for teaching me To pay attention to what all I see, To write it down religiously, And not presume I can fathom Thee… Months later, or years first pass Before comprehension dawns – And slowly I've developed a compass And a vocabulary for what all they warn. Over the years since my childhood, One theme has constantly been revised. Over and over again, These things I've witnessed, With my sleeping eyes. Evil days are coming… The likes of which we'd not believe, I listen close to the war like drumming, A great monster will rise and many deceive. What warning can I condense this to? These warnings of my dreams, Only to beg the people to remain true, to remember things are not as they seem. Each poem I've ever written, About the dignity of grace, has at its root some dream I've had As its inspiration and its base. All the things we see now, Will be lost in the fire and the storm, Oh my Jesus I beg you, Help the people to reform… You are coming in your glory, You are coming to cut short the war, You are coming to destroy the evildoers, You will no longer be ignored.

Forgiveness means "I set you free." But it also means "I also free me." Forgiveness means "I know you were wrong." But it also means "I don't want to prolong, This pain inside, this pain I feel, Let me break this burning, turning wheel. Let me breathe freedoms air, It doesn't matter if you don't care; I will not be locked up, Any longer in your snare. Forgiveness is painful, But not so painful as holding on, Not as soul-destroying as waiting and hoping, That the one who hurt you will see you coping, And being strong. Forgiveness says " I forgive you for what you took by force, " But it doesn't mean that I endorse, Your selfishness and your taboo, That is just par for the course, When interacting with you. Forgiveness says "If I see you in Heaven I won't be mad, I won't be angry, I won't be sad. It'll mean He worked on you, Just like He worked on me; The Lord of mercy who sets the captives free." Forgiveness means "I let it go." Though I've sighed and I've cried, I continue to grow, A fire flower blossoming, Amid the snow.

Oh my Lady of the Rosary, Your children love you so, We are your children, For our Lord gave us, you, As our Mother, long ago. From the very cross He spoke, To the Disciple, and so, making us all one: He said “Behold your mother.” And “Dear woman, here is your son.” Oh Mary, how I love you, Help me pray my Rosary… Help me celebrate anew, This special day, your anniversary; With the little shepherd children so true. On the side of the Hill, In 1917, on the 13th day, Appearing to them each month, Ending in October, and starting in May. So since the 13th of May, I've composed poems for you, Each month, and this is the second to last… I shall end this sequence On my birthday; for you! For you and our Lord are unsurpassed! Pray for us my Lady, Please intercede for us, With the Father and with the Son – For you are chosen from all people, To be this special one… My Lady, My Queen, I thank you, On behalf of the whole human race, And I pray we all could delight then, To behold thee; the first daughter of Grace.

Upon the throne which is liken to Sapphire, Is the One, like Jasper and Ruby, aglow – Where the rainbow climbs, like emeralds higher, In the fair city, established eons ago. Here in the light of the Fire, The elect sing and praise with The celestial gong, Here the very air vibrates, With the sound of many thunders, That echo to song… This highest spire, This crowning peak, This mount over-looking eternity – Drenched in beauty and loves mystique, Is the eternal court of The Deity. Here at the heart, the seat of Love, The Lord in Majesty reigns. From here, with great art, The glowing heat of the eternal dove, True sight constant maintains. Across Space and Time and secret thoughts – All are known, to His resilience, aware. To the One who burns like furnaced brass, Glittering molten brilliance, That shatters and repairs the very air! The One who glows like fury, The One who is Charity's ultimate and ardent burning, The One who is ancient, and eternal, The fount of all Goodness and Learning. There amid the dazzling light, At the right hand of the Father; The Son. There! Creations true delight; The One who will right Every wrong. When He arises as the Judge, Oh, who can keep their feet? When He chastises to descend from above, Nations will weep for their conceit. Who can stand before Him? All will be alarmed even unto death - To perceive this One who is peerless And Ageless, This One, who long ago, Offered to pay our deep debt. I'm sent onward, like many others, To warn of the Judgement ahead, Wherein He'll call, all to account, Both the living and the dead.

Oh, let me tell you a story, A story about The Eye; How it's either like a Honey Bee, Or it behaves like a Fly. Where you look, Will determine what you see. Just ask the Fly, And the Honey Bee. If you ask the Fly “Tell me of the lovely things, In and around this place.” He'll buzz his wings, And his path then retrace, Saying… “I haven't seen any lovely things – I don't believe they exist. But I can tell you where all the rotten things are, All the dirt and filth I've kissed.” If you ask the Honey Bee “Tell me where is the rotten, Where do the ugly things stay?” He'll buzz his wings, Remember the flowers of Spring, And not know what to say… “I haven't seen any ugly things – I don't believe they exist. But I can tell you where all the meadows are, The fresh water and the flowers I've kissed.” Just like the Honey Bee, Just like the Fly, You inevitably see, Wherever you put your eye. If you're looking for evil, You'll never run out of corruption to list. If you collect all that is rotten, Surly, you can fill an abyss. If you're looking for beauty, You'll, likewise, never run out of Those colors of bliss, You'll fill your eternity To gorgeously reminisce. Where you look determines what you'll see, What you treasure, Determines what you'll be. So then examine The scope of your eyes, Do they collect like the Honey Bees? Or do they collect like the Fly's?

Beware the power in your tongue, The power to bless. The power to curse. What you declare within some hour, You nevertheless disperse as you converse. Some throw away curse like “Damn him! May he never know peace!” Can curse a whole family line, For generations! Until released. Some simple blessing like “Bless her! Bless her heart with love.” Can stir all of creation, And move the Lord thereof. You don't need to know some Voodoo, You don't need to know some spell, To call down a curse to devalue, Distill poisonous words that make others unwell. You can enact a curse with your casual racism, With your false pride you can cause much ill… You can curse with your envy and sexism, By the unhealthy use of your will. With your words you can curse your country, Your leaders, your teachers, yourself… Your words are indeed your infantry, The sum of your hearts true wealth… So, examine your life and your family, Are there any generational curses there? If you should notice and see them, Don't despair, you were unaware. First, get yourself right with the Lord, Repent and try to do right – And pray then for the healing, The entering in of the blessed good light. Believe it now and receive it! By the blood of the Lamb, be free! He died to give us this asurity, His Fathers own guarantee. Pray then for your family – Your parents and your kids – For all the Good that God allows, And against all the Evil He forbids.