Showing posts with label Salvation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Salvation. Show all posts

Wednesday, December 3, 2025

Sweet Salvation

 

Sweet Salvation

 

Sin

The devil’s deuces in my hand

I could not understand

Or begin to comprehend

Lost in a manic maze without end

In a starless moonless night

Full of fright and haze

 

Love

A sweet hello

A world I didn’t know

A light beyond the mist

Something I could never dream to exist

I heard the Word

And in my heart stirred

A fainty ray of light

 

I was lost in sin most vile

Life a pointless vain trial

Barely able to fake a smile

I was wondering if there was something more

If somehow I had missed the door

Then I heard the gospel story

Of Jesus, God and glory

How on the cross of Calvary

He paid the price for me

 

Faith commeth by hearing and hearing by the Word of God

God be true and every man a lair

Grace pricked my heart

I began a quest

A new start

I could not rest 

Until I made things right

With the Lord of Light

I learned the gospel lesson

Accepted it without question

And in baptism buried in the blood deep

The good Lord my soul to keep

Thanx to sweet salvation

My destination heaven above

What great love

 

Born again!

Thank God for saving me from sin


CAN I GET A WITNESS




Friday, November 21, 2025

Beautiful But Powerless

Beautiful But Powerless

 

She is a crystal dove

See her glitter

See her shine

Sweet is her Love

Angelically divine

Look

But never touch

Or call her mine

Gaze upon the beauty of her face

But God forbid

You should embrace

For she would shatter

Into an infinite number of fragments

You see in life

Some were meant

Only to be gazed upon

Like a falling snowflake

Melting

To live but one moment

And then be gone 



POLISHED FRAGMENTS

Poet To The Poor


Tuesday, October 14, 2025

A Fond Fair Thee Well

 A Fond Fair Thee Well

 

Brother Tyrone

God calls you home from His throne

To heaven beyond the skies blue

A petition none can refuse

I bid thee as you enter eternity

A fond fair thee well

Brother Tyrone

Grace will carry you into infinity

For God loves you more than you can tell

It seems life just begun

But your race has been run

With all your might

You have fought the good fight

Have no uncertainty

For God is full of mercy

The price paid on Calvary

Paid in full

A fond fair thee well

This world may be bitter and cruel

But Brother Tyrone

You were no fool

For you put your trust

In the Lord Jesus

You will be greatly missed

We will weep and we will cry

But we are not saying goodbye

For it is our hope and prayer

In heaven fair

In the glory of the endless light

We shall unite

Brother Tyrone

Hear the bell ringing

The angels are singing

Another soul called by the Lord

Another soul taken to their reward

A fond fair thee well

 POLISHED FRAGMENTS

Poet To The Poor


Saturday, August 9, 2025

A Poet's Peace

A Poet's Peace

 

 

I perceive, therefore I mourn, my spirit torn, a new life reborn

Waves of light, shine bright as shimmering leaves of trees in the breeze

I color outside of the lines and quite often not even in the book

Life is never black and white, I always take more than one look

 

The ink used to create this poem is the blood from my veins

In the asylum robbed of freedom, torment fermented my brains

I was drunk on righteous thoughts, caught in messiah syndrome

Mother Earth cried in anguish, beseeching for personal redemption

My mind rotted by clicks of whispering memories, too evil to mention

 

I was a Navajo a billion years ago and knew the secrets of the universe

But man, violated the plan and creation was subjugated to a curse

The water broke, I awoke, I trembled in utter terror as I heard the Word spoke

In exaltation I cried "I Am here to liberate you" but everybody thought it was a joke

 

Padded walls and straight jackets, psychiatric hospitals little more than rackets

Thorazine shuffle, thoughts they muzzle, a few pieces missing from the puzzle

Committed to the cause, committed by their laws, a danger to society

Meanwhile merchants of death massacre masses efficiently, proficiently

Dare not question or mention the absurd contradiction

Serve the institute, salute the flag, they're always looking for a raw recruit

 

But Love touched me as a gentle rain on a parched land coveting relief

In my helpless state of dire need I could forsake hatred and greed

Four stars on the uniform or a business suit doesn't make you less of a thief

But on my journey, God turned me around and do you know what I found

In abandoning carnal desire and allowing the fire to inspire

In my mind I find I can be kind and even love my very enemy

You see when you release darkness and allow hatred to cease

If you truly believe you too shall achieve A Poet's Peace 


 POLISHED FRAGMENTS

Poet To The Poor


Thursday, June 19, 2025

My Wobbly Girl

My Wobbly Girl

 

My Wobbly Girl is a fine looking lass

A pretty pearl see her shine working class

My Wobbly Girl is a very good find

And her best feature is her Wobbly mind

 

My Wobbly Girl I love you

My Wobbly Girl my heart is true

We never sing the blues

Cause we always pay our dues

My Wobbly Girl I love you

 

My Wobbly Girl please promise never to part

You’ve built a tunnel deep into my heart

My Wobbly Girl workers built everything

Even the gold crown on the head of the king

 

My Wobbly Girl I love you

My Wobbly Girl my heart is true

We never sing the blues

Cause we always pay our dues

My Wobbly Girl I love you

 

My Wobbly Girl the whole world is ours to share

My Wobbly Girl your love always pays fair

My Wobbly Girl you have courage so brave

You’ll fight with all your might to free the wage slave

 

My Wobbly Girl I love you

My Wobbly Girl my heart is true

We never sing the blues

Cause we always pay our dues

My Wobbly Girl I love you

 

My Wobbly Girl I want you to be my wife

My Wobbly Girl I offer you all my life

I promise never to treat you less than me

My Wobbly Girl we’ll have a Wobbly family

 

My Wobbly Girl I love you

My Wobbly Girl my heart is true

We never sing the blues

Cause we always pay our dues

My Wobbly Girl I love you  


GREAT BOOK OF SONG LYRICS



The Big Book Of Song Lyrics, Check It Out!!

Sunday, June 15, 2025

There Are Many Herods

There Are Many Herods

 

There are many Herods

Yes indeed

There are many Herods

Poisoned with greed

They are an envious lot

Best to be forgot

Longing for the sky

Coveting God’s throne on high

From the stars

Dealing scars

See the children die

The moan of the drone

Flesh burned off the bone

A smell of hell

Nothing is well

These many Herods

They are not near

To hear the desperate cry

These many Herods

Living a lie

They have no fear

As they are a world away

They dance and play

And curse with scorn

As the world does mourn

But yet in each generation

A baby is born

A champion of salvation

Inwardly torn

Dancing the reds

Singing the blues

Saying what needs to be said

Preaching good news

There are many Herods

History tells of them all

There are many Herods

But they all shall fall

Beaten down by the rod

Of the  Son of God 


 POLISHED FRAGMENTS

Poet To The Poor


Thursday, June 12, 2025

The Humanity Of The Enemy

The Humanity Of The Enemy

 

 

Reality, is a rocking cradle, God is able, a miracle sleeps

Mother's gentle hand does not understand forces beyond her command

The winds wails, the system fails, hatred prevails

Religion, nationality, ethnicity, ideology, is null and void

As baby cries, humanity dies and the Earth is being destroyed

 

Outside miserable men march, in uniforms green, merchants of death

In a nursing home, beloved grandfather, flocked by family, takes his last breath

What matters? All of us possess things that bless, love and kindness in heart

Our common humanity greatly outweighs what we have apart

 

The byproduct of the war machine, is most obscene, obstinately unclean

Impoverished billions in continents far, millions wallow in poverty here

Bickering politicians want to kill social security, to save a dime, what a crime

Organized violence, requires no license, blessed by wizards of science

Sucking brain power, they devour the intelligentsia, captivated

So the real issue, the virtue of bettering mankind is abandoned far behind 

 

Do unto others as you would have them do unto you

Are those words wrong or are those words true?

We shall escape the rape of the world in its savage brutality

When see with our eyes and realize the humanity of enemy 


POLISHED FRAGMENTS

Poet To The Poor


Thursday, May 22, 2025

Barry No Moore

 Barry No Moore

 

School boy infatuation

Lost over a Richard M. Nixon rubber mask

Stretching the prominent nose

Flabbergasted at the elastic recoil upon release

A metaphor on life

Norma called

In a round about diplomacy she declared

Our comrade Barry is dead

He’s better off was the diagnosis

WTF?

Was Kissinger correct in his fascist arrogance?

Masturbating in lustful ego and influence

Time Magazine stained in the White House bathroom

Tricky Dick and Sticky Dick

Here’s a suggestion in memory of our dearly love departed

Herd together the entire collection of despots

And their spineless cohorts whispering sweet nothings of vile

No true warrior celebrates glory in death

Unless their humanity has been X’d

Like John Chivington and his cousin in killing Custard

Take a group Polaroid

After it is fully developed in techno color

Strike a match and set it ablaze

Just cause you can

Use claws of justice to shred the smug mocking mask

Of the sinister superior Nietzsche charged super man

Observe a tormented toddler

Wounded beyond point of view

Never to comprehend

The most precious words

I love you

Like Barry would pronounce

But no longer

He is fading fast into forgetfulness

Unless in irony in future days of radiant glory

Inquiring minds come across this pome

English a vanquished dead language

Babylon banished

Tyre toppled

And all the proponents of genocide meager ashes

The darkening of the face of humanity washed clean

As we pronounce bold words in caution

We walked the winding way once before

Of whom Barry was one

Demand in meekness

No more

May all wars cease

Then Barry

You may rest in peace

One you participated to create

Where Love rules over hate


 POLISHED FRAGMENTS

Poet To The Poor


Thursday, May 15, 2025

No Cause for Alarm

No Cause for Alarm

 

I always detested you

A freak by choice

Your spiked hair

And leather jacket

Picturing the Statue of Liberty

Submerged in water

As if drowning

Baring the words

That entitle this poem

I did not detest your rebellion

It intrigued me

Tantalized me

Rather how you would

Cynically mock me

For behaving

Following the rules

And I have come

To the conclusion

That you were right

Now I see

Your picture on Facebook

Your head is shaved

And a M 16

Is raised aimed to kill

And worst of all

You are not joking

I detest you still

But I have learned

An art to survival

Compassion

And so unto you

Whom I will conceal

I send you this

Love Letter

P.S.

I am straight

So there is

No Cause for Alarm 


POLISHED FRAGMENTS

Poet To The Poor


Thursday, May 8, 2025

Philosophers of State

Philosophers of State

 

A far away galaxy shimmering in shyness

In haunting taunting darkness lost in bliss

Two lovers recover swearing no more of this

Reconciliation is the sweetest form of kiss

I look to heaven from a particular point of view

The world has gone crazy and yes that means you

Jets fighters roaring, Jet bombers soaring

How many slain is the method of scoring

While Judas covets an alabaster flask

And every politician puts on the perfect mask

So where do we turn? How do we learn?

Never mind says the CEO it’s none of your concern

While all the crops are synthetically made

Computer digits is the popular currency paid

There is nowhere to run and just one place to hide

The lines are drawn choose an ambiguous side

Earth First seeks blood to quench its thirst

But I know killing for Jesus equals the worst

And I am but a poet observing the ride

Come speak the truth and you’ll be crucified

Every angle is formed by only two lines meeting

So to bread and medicine I send my greeting

All the so called hoodlums would have been blown away

If it weren’t for the fact that bodies decay

Yet every reality is conformed by the mind

In Jack the Ripper cruelty they find themselves kind

So shoot a satellite to Jupitar and leave us behind

In your own heart lay the treasures you wish to find

Unfortunately the fortunate are foolish and blind

But hey I say haven’t we seen this play before?

The one Hollywood made with the perfect score

Where all the names have been changed to hide the guilt

By slaves were the great Egyptian pyramids built

So I point to Manhattan with a nod of my head

Where philosophers of state proclaim

“We’d be better off if you were dead” 



POLISHED FRAGMENTS

Poet To The Poor


Sunday, March 2, 2025

More Than The Madness

     Chapter 1

Introduction

 

People like me don't come from any particular place; we are all around the world. We live in every country. We don't have any specific skin color; we share them all. You can't tell that I am any different by looking at me. What sets me apart is what is going on in my mind. I belong to a dreaded world that most people fear and don't understand. There are many labels placed on people with my condition: “crazy,” “lunatic,” “crackers,” “nuts,” “insane,” and “mentally ill.”

I didn't explicitly set out to write a book. I started by writing stories to express what is so deep within my soul. When I shared these stories with friends, we laughed together and reminisced about our common experiences. The book that you hold in your hands was born. It is the story of my life.

You will never completely know who I am by simply reading my tales, but perhaps you will begin to understand. When Jesus was asked, “And who is my neighbor?" he didn't answer the question directly. Instead, he told the story of the Good Samaritan. The parable did more than answer the question. In the same way, I hope my story will help answer the question of what mental illness looks and feels like.

My illness is manic depression caused by a chemical imbalance in the brain. I was diagnosed when I was twenty. The year was 1987. Now, it is called by the milder name “bipolar disorder.” Psychiatric disorders are often misunderstood; I was a leper with a hidden disease. One can’t simply look at me and see something wrong, yet my existence has been far from normal.

An X-ray reveals a broken bone, and anyone can see the cast on a leg. Nobody would expect a person with a broken leg to run a marathon. But when someone suffers from an illness like depression, the reality is often denied. "There's nothing wrong with you" or "You're just lazy" are typical comments. Loved ones become frustrated and seem to lack compassion. They can’t see the problem because they can’t get into the person’s mind to experience the battle raging inside. They can’t see the living hell. I’ve walked in those shoes. This is a book of my footprints.

This book is about mental illness, written by one who suffers from it. In these pages I open my life with candidness and honesty. I am not afraid to reveal my soul.

Mental illness needs to be better understood. There are mountains of misinformation about it, and people have lots of questions. Is it treatable? What are the symptoms? Are there different kinds? How does it affect people? There are textbooks you can read to answer those questions. My book is not a clinical book filled with facts and figures but a book of humanity to touch not just the mind but, more importantly, the heart. It not only shows the illness with all its ugliness, but it also reveals the fact that I am a human being, just like you. The illness makes up part of who I am, but it does not define me.

Unlike any physical sickness, mental illness has an attached stigma. As a result, we hide our condition from our neighbors, coworkers, acquaintances, and even friends. It's the dirty little secret that the rest of the family doesn't like to talk about. In my experience, if you’re poor, they will call you "crazy," and most likely, you will wind up in a state institution or, worse, a prison. If you're middle class, they will say that you suffer from a “chemical imbalance,” and you will most likely get adequate treatment. If you are rich, you will be called “eccentric” and get the finest treatment. Whatever you call it, most people would like to brush it under the mat, somewhere out of sight.

I hope this book will help change some of these negative perceptions. I have purposely omitted some information to protect people I mention in my story. All of the names, except my own, were changed to conceal identities, even the names of my parents. It is sufficient to say that our home life was unpleasant. The purpose of this book is to heal and not to hurt. I don't want to air dirty laundry. I don't want to expose every last flaw of my parents. Yes, it might be interesting and helpful in explaining my illness, but I will not do it, and it is not necessary.

I am a devout Christian. Without God, the pain of the darkness of night would have crushed my soul and destroyed me. With the help of the Almighty I bore my cross, and many have helped me carry it along the way. It has indeed been a long, strange trip. I am not what the potential of my gifts may have promised, but by what criteria should this be judged? I know without a doubt that I am a better person for what I have gone through. Remember, the measure of a man is not determined only by the distance he travels; the nature of the road must also be considered.

I am forty years old and happily married. I have a bachelor's degree in mathematics. I work full-time as a civil engineer and support myself financially, with my wife Sylvia doing her share to contribute as well. I have come a long way from lying in bed all day, thinking about how I was going to kill myself. I must humbly submit that I have overcome the demons. I am not a hundred percent out of their grasp, but they no longer dictate the terms and conditions of my life. I have progressed beyond many who suffer from the same malady and even some who do not.

There is more to me than the madness. I am a human being just like you. The illness is just another dimension in a complex picture. After you read this book, I hope you will realize that I am not a creature who needs to be locked away from society, as some would demand. I hope you will understand that I am not a bizarre phenomenon. I hope you will see some of yourself in me and realize that we aren't too unalike after all. Most of all, I hope that when you encounter an individual who suffers from a mental illness, you will not ostracize them and consider them second-class or worse.

Many people have helped and supported me in this work, and I thank them. I hope you enjoy this book as much as I have enjoyed writing it. It has indeed been a labor of love. Be prepared to be challenged. Get ready for your horizons to be broadened. I am going to show you my life, a life that is probably very different from yours. Or maybe it is very similar to yours. If so, I hope my story helps you feel not so alone in your struggles. In sharing my experiences, I have exposed the shadows of deception with the brilliant light of truth. I hope it will set you free. I hope the shackles of prejudice will be cast off.


Check Out More Than The Madness







Born to Chase the Wind

Born to Chase the Wind

 

The dusty old trail is calling me on

Come the morning and I will be gone

And all that will be left of you and me

Will just be a pleasant memory

I never made a promise to you my love

I didn’t take an oath to God above

I’ll remember you I tell you no lie

At least until the next gal comes by

 

Well I was born to chase the wind

It’s such a sad life my friend

Yeah I was born to chase the wind

And I see that it’s blowing again

 

I got a pack with a couple of things

I never know what tomorrow brings

Maybe sunshine or clouds overhead

I hope I’m lucky enough to find a bed

No I ain’t a bum don’t you say so

I’m a wandering worker a regular hobo

I’ll clean your house or wash your car

Then I’ll relax and play my guitar

 

Well I was born to chase the wind

It’s such a sad life my friend

Yeah I was born to chase the wind

And I see that it’s blowing again

 

My roof is the sky

On green grass I lie

Too tired to weep

Gently I sleep

Dreams inside my mind

Of some better time

Then comes the morn

And I’m back on my journ

 

Well I was born to chase the wind

It’s such a sad life my friend

Yeah I was born to chase the wind

And I see that it’s blowing again

With you good sir I’ll travel a while

Pass the whiskey and make me smile

I can tell you a tale or sing you a song

It really helps that the liquor is strong

Ever since Adam when he ate from the tree

All that man knew was misery

Talk about woman I think about Eve

If it weren’t for her we’d never grieve

 

Well I was born to chase the wind

It’s such a sad life my friend

Yeah I was born to chase the wind

And I see that it’s blowing again

 

Well one day I shall enter my rest

I’ll look God in the eye cause I’ve done my best

I may go to heaven I may go to hell

The future’s uncertain who can tell

But this I know as a solid fact

I’ll have good times for me to look back

Yes I’ll have just one request in the end

O God Allmighty let me catch the wind

 

Well I was born to chase the wind

It’s such a sad life my friend

Yeah I was born to chase the wind

And I see that it’s blowing again

And I see that it’s blowing again 


GREAT BOOK OF SONG LYRICS


The Big Book Of Song Lyrics, Check It Out!!