“Why hell?”, I asked the missionary
“You were born a sinner, and you need a Saviour.”
“Why hell?’ I asked God
“You are a sinner, and you rejected the Saviour.”
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Crowining Glory of Man
Lord, when men hurt me
remind me of my worth
of the image you have created
me in
for love Lord,
not for black eyes
not for abusive words
not for sexual gratification
and then tossed,
not to be neglected
not to be common
not to be controlled
grabbed by my heart
strings, and made
into a marionette
to dance for
to perform for
to dress seductively for
to be scorned
then have my veil ripped off
and my tenderness disregarded
Lord, stand as My Champion
put out my worth
when they tell me
Eve was at fault
and women were
created to be
barefoot and pregnant
barefoot and pregnant
I will point out that
Deborah was a judge
of Israel
and that the great general Sisera
had his temple hammered in
by Jael,
Mary the mother of Jesus
carried our Lord in her young
body
God regarded her
Jesus regarded Mary Magdalene
and so I know that the Lord of Glory
has a special and wonderful place
in His Heart for His daughters
and being made common
never was His Design
“You are My Daughter
and I love you,
when men play
with your feelings
and leave you weeping
when they tear your
virgin robes
insult you,
and twist you
to make you a shrew
Know this, that I created
you to be the Crowning Glory
of Man.”
copyright2010misfit1965
(not my image)
The Church
Not a grand cathedral
i attend
nor varnished pews i sit upon
no statues carved to be
a likeness of My Saviour
stained glass windows
of saints do not make
it Christ’s Body
sometimes it’s not even
the man in the pulpit
expected to strengthen us
with his words,
many folks who proclaim
Our Lord don’t really know
Him
though i’ve been to places
where fancy dressed people
stand in the foyeurs greeting
a battery of souls
searching for shelter
begging for mercy
hearts carried in brown paper bags
worn out, incinerated, bled out
casually handed pageant
programs
they were not sheltered,
nor clothed,
they were not fed,
nor loved
i’ve wanted to whisk them
away
in a fiery chariot
to where God’s people
dwell
between the lampstands
and the pillars
where Cheribim and seraphim
lift their wings to Glorify God
Christ is the Rock
we are the living stones
of His gathering
at any hour we cry out!
we beg for consecration
we long for His Appearing
as citizens of Heaven
until His Return
sifting the wheat
looking for fruit
we walk the narrow path
of Redemption.
break bread in houses,
praying in cellars,
even prison cells
caves may serve as meeting
places,
it’s not the venue
that venerates
it is flesh and it is blood
under metal stairwells,
at bus-stops,
on street corners,
in shelters,
where paths lead
to Righteousness they
are walking
where there is Light
men and women of the Lord
read Scriptures,
divide the Word of Truth
reproach the backslidden
comfort the fallen,
heal the sick
preach to the lost
these are tents
temporary places
nothing more,
nothing do we carry
what more can we desire
than the Blood of Jesus
to wash and purify
a heart set aflame
for God
for His Holy Quest
to seek His Cornerstone
church is not a place to go
it is a way of being,
it is our blood, our bones,
our limbs, our faces shining
with God’s Love for a humanity
that will not stand
Church is not a place to pray
or a place to worship
or praise
our hearts are the places of worship
of prayer and praise
we are the temples of the Holy Spirit
holiness is the flesh we wear
as Praise to Jesus
these souls made new
" Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, He is a new creation.
Old things have passed away. Behold all things have been made new."
(2Cor5:17)
wherever saints congregrate
holiness dwells
copyright2010misfit1965
(not my image)
I Don't Know their names
“For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this age, against spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places.”
Therefore take up the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand.
Stand therefore, having girded your waist with truth, having put on the breastplate of righteousness, and having shod on your feet the preparation of the gospel of peace; above all taking the shield of faith which is able to quench all of the fiery darts of the wicked one. And take the helmet of salvation, and the Sword of the Spirit which is the Word of God;
(Ephesians 6:12-17)
I don’t know their names.
I believe God has forbidden them
from whispering their actual names
into the ears of believers.
still they spew their venom,
when I have raised myself from the sanctuary of prayer.
when recent brokenness has become a barrier,
and I choose to press my hands into my own feeble ones
instead of giving the wounds to my Lord.
there are the hisses of the lost angelic host
“How many times has the Lord allowed your hopes to be crushed?”
Uninvited, lingering jeers.
“Too long. God openly mocks you.” I’ve seen the stain of tears."
Any spaces between God’s love and mine
peril my faith
God forbids it
they lurk in the doorways
of my soul, uninvited,
lingering creatures
waiting for the fire of first love
to die down,
when praise and prayer
have cooled
searching for that open window to crawl through
they diabolically search for the spaces
between my heart and God’s
when I pull away in disappointment
when prayers are worn down inside me
and the words, the implorings and the pleadings
and the tears and mucous have dried
on these walls of my faith.
when I feel the abandonment
bleed in urging for You.
and the answers are not forthcoming
when my longing is knotted
and cannot be untied
from the expectations
I have placed upon You.
when I have perceived
Your Voice to come from another
source,
I become lost in that hollow echo
I have created from my need.
the enemies speak rationally
skillfully and thoughtfully
I know I should reject
the words weaved
from their crooked tongues
tangled
and spun
from the incincerated
ashes of the fallen ones.
when they say, I should no
longer trust You.
that You only openly mock me
in prayer,
that my tears You do not
see
that You are indifferent.
to my struggles
their bizarre voices
rise up in a cacophony
of death
I don’t know their names
that is unimportant
they wrestle for audience
in me
misfit1965copyright2010
Therefore take up the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand.
Stand therefore, having girded your waist with truth, having put on the breastplate of righteousness, and having shod on your feet the preparation of the gospel of peace; above all taking the shield of faith which is able to quench all of the fiery darts of the wicked one. And take the helmet of salvation, and the Sword of the Spirit which is the Word of God;
(Ephesians 6:12-17)
I don’t know their names.
I believe God has forbidden them
from whispering their actual names
into the ears of believers.
still they spew their venom,
when I have raised myself from the sanctuary of prayer.
when recent brokenness has become a barrier,
and I choose to press my hands into my own feeble ones
instead of giving the wounds to my Lord.
there are the hisses of the lost angelic host
“How many times has the Lord allowed your hopes to be crushed?”
Uninvited, lingering jeers.
“Too long. God openly mocks you.” I’ve seen the stain of tears."
Any spaces between God’s love and mine
peril my faith
God forbids it
they lurk in the doorways
of my soul, uninvited,
lingering creatures
waiting for the fire of first love
to die down,
when praise and prayer
have cooled
searching for that open window to crawl through
they diabolically search for the spaces
between my heart and God’s
when I pull away in disappointment
when prayers are worn down inside me
and the words, the implorings and the pleadings
and the tears and mucous have dried
on these walls of my faith.
when I feel the abandonment
bleed in urging for You.
and the answers are not forthcoming
when my longing is knotted
and cannot be untied
from the expectations
I have placed upon You.
when I have perceived
Your Voice to come from another
source,
I become lost in that hollow echo
I have created from my need.
the enemies speak rationally
skillfully and thoughtfully
I know I should reject
the words weaved
from their crooked tongues
tangled
and spun
from the incincerated
ashes of the fallen ones.
when they say, I should no
longer trust You.
that You only openly mock me
in prayer,
that my tears You do not
see
that You are indifferent.
to my struggles
their bizarre voices
rise up in a cacophony
of death
I don’t know their names
that is unimportant
they wrestle for audience
in me
misfit1965copyright2010
Monday, March 19, 2012
Pilgrims
I don’t know if we shall ever see them again,
or contemplate where they are
The souls who passed through the earth as pilgrims
lay in the dirt,
famous once,
powerful once
but the breath that drove them
has expired
The sands of life shift so fast
in trying to grasp,
we sink
in attempting to possess
the gravity of death
Imagining death to be a journey
of a fall that never ends
A careless wave that rushes back into the sea,
is life taken from us
grasping the sand of life between our toes,
a grain of what we were
the blame we may have laid on others
the kisses and the joy leaping
days too quickly
a rainstorm
a flash of lightening,
with the eye,
our lives die before us,
I did not keep track of death.
But death is a debt we must pay
When God promised the first man
To dust you shall return
But the hope for immortality
is a knife in the heart
to some
So many have gone before
where I shall be someday
The days lead me there
quietly I follow
The minutes fly to that hour
like the string of a beautiful
kite
slipping through tired fingers
running until I am out of breath,
chasing myself
until heartbeats become less
frequent
and silence loudly screams
I don’t remember when youth danced away
as if there were no beginning nor end,
only God’s voice
When I pray I am not afraid,
Your whisper reminds
I am never alone
But there is this business of death
through this wildnerness
and Fear could not be flushed
Open the doors, to Eternity,
that lives past this life.
Those who hoped in Jesus Christ, those who knew He was the Way, The Truth, and The Life have joined Him in Glory.
The smile on the lips we could not witness,
as they were on the threshold, dying,
clinging to a life as they say,
“no longer wants them.”
Life gives us a bloody kick when it is done with us,
Oh, but Jesus is never done with us,
every false god we may make prayers to,
money even,
Throw dollars into an empty pit,
saturate it with paper only to burn
Not even one farthing, can we steal into the next
life,
Don’t cry, don’t love this life, don’t worship it.
It is only temporary.
misfit1965
(image not mine)
The Value of Time
As we hurry through this delicate mechanism
of living
the shifting gears of time,
we walk the dirt floors
fighting for its value,
disparaging the souls of others
losing its meaning
As our century and civilizations pass through
the watchful judgment of God,
we blink to see it has eroded with all
of its progress,
life is still very cheap
a culture that clings to death
while yet fearing it.
capricious, we lack wisdom
guided by blind leaders
since God opened the eyes of time
and set the Hourglass.
Age has worn the binding we wear
the yellowing years fade us a little more
even if we erase the lines around our eyes
and mouths
age has claimed us with the grip of death
attached to it.
we begin to wind down at different times
as our children are taken from us
the chapters of our families are quickly ending
the words are falling off the pages already
let’s give each other last hugs,
quiet and meaningful
let’s pass our hearts on so we don’t forget
slip your hand into mine while its still warm
before we forget and memories wind down
before the curtain is drawn, let’s say
our thank-you’s and good-byes
let me say I love you, while God gives me
breath
let me feed the lonely with a smile
and the joy of just this moment.
misfit1965
(image not mine)
The enemy is death
Death is not nostalgic,
Death is the destroyer
keeping us from God
Death is not an enigma,
but a lie cloaked in pride
Death is not a peaceful slumber
but the devil’s venom,
don’t die, without the One
who defeated death,
don’t live, without falling
before the Feet of the Majestic
One called Jesus.
Death does not purpose in
reuniting one’s loved ones,
It is to finally come Home
to where we belong
Death severs the ties
of here and now,
Death is not an old uncle
nor is it a lover
the last kiss of a clinging
desperation
left upon
the lips of the dying.
Death holds no esteem
for the living,
There is no Reverance for Life
as embryo and old men
as wars have killed
and men have murdered
women and teen
no struggle to survive
it is to have fallen
into a spider’s web for some
into an eternal abyss,
There is no immortality
without God
no higher power
to do our bidding
to cheat death
There is Judgment
A Throne,
A Living God
Souls rise up
to understand
that there is a Second Death
more permanent than the first
but deserved
More deserved than
the former.
The First Death
takes our flesh
(but not our souls)
Not always with Justice
The Dead do not speak,
The Dead do not know
The Living truly know
Life is a Gift
not a tease of the senses
nor a gluttony of pleasure
We Live To Meet Our Maker
If only this life you have Hope
The Dead neither know
nor judge
nor hope,
they are dead.
Dead in flesh
that is corrupted
and passions
that are useless
Living in the corpse
of their sins
(Jesus Christ overcame death
HE IS THE propitiation
HE DIED ONCE AND FOR ALL
death has no meaning
to the follower of Christ
death has no power
to the one who has faith)
The Dead do not Speak
nor reason
having returned
to the dark dirt
of the earth
Suicide is not a lover
nor is death a friend
to be embraced,
but an enemy to be vanquished.
misfit1965
(image not mine)
Be Content in All Things
The Apostle Paul tells us to be content with what the Lord has provided for us. Paul writes that he knows what it is to be content. He knew contentment in whatever he had whether he hungered or whether he was full. From scripture we also know that Paul was beaten and imprisoned for his faith in Jesus Christ. Five times he was beaten with 39 stripes, once with rods, and once he was stoned. He goes onto to write that he was weary and exhausted, hungry and thirsty, cold, naked and fasting. In perils in the sea, in the city, in perils among false brethren, and with Gentiles, in the wilderness, in the water, and with robbers, and his own Jewish countrymen. (2Corinthians 11:24-27) Still Paul was content with his situation. Which one of us would have been?
I don’t own a car, so my daughter and I ride the bus all over town whenever we cannot get a ride to our destination. (I don’t have the proper credit to purchase a car.) In my hometown, which is Fresno it gets pretty hot in the summer, upwards of 107. At times we catch two busses. Some busses have the luxury of passing every 15 minutes, others only every 30 minutes. On the weekends its every 30 minutes, and once every hour. So it is quite an inconvenience. I owned a car only once, and that was because my older brother purchased it for $1,900. It was a 1990 Nissan Stanza that worked exactly one year.(2003-2004)
Paul writes be content with the bus so to speak. Be happy you have a convenient, inexpensive form of transportation. “I walked most of the time,” he probably would have told me.
Paul had so many trials, there was the bit about the thorn in the flesh. (2 Corinthians 12:7) He entreated the Lord three times to take it away. But the Lord answered," My grace is sufficient for you, my stength is made perfect in weakness." (2Cortinthians 12:9)
My thorns, I have quite a few of them. One of the thorns that has stabbed me, and has cleaved to me is loneliness. I have never been married. I, like Paul prayed about my situation, and God did not answer me as I would have liked. For anyone who has experienced this particular type of loneliness, it hurts when the natural tendency is to be apart of someone else. Who knows the reasons why God does not answer seemingly reasonable prayers? He leaves the thorn, and tells us as he told Paul, “My grace is sufficient for you.”
So I have raised my child as a single parent. Her father has been God. Paul would say, “I should still be content, even if I do not have the things I think I need.” According to church historians, Paul may have been married at one point in his life, then been widowed. But at the time he wrote about the thorn I don’t believe so. He must have needed the tenderness of a woman. But then again, he spoke of the gift of singleness. Maybe he had it. Maybe I have some form of it, without realizing. Maybe the pangs of loneliness would bite deeper without God’s grace. Who knows?
I have done most of my novel writing out of loneliness. Some of my most elaborate characterizations have been born from it. I have written about Christopher to escape it. He has been my strategem against it. Again Paul writes, “Be content.”
My daughter was diagnosed with pediatric bi-polar disorder at age 9. She has been on meds since she was 7. My child, though beautiful has been a challenge. Despite her illness, I know she is a blessing from the Lord. When I let the Holy Spirit assuage itself in me, I feel a joy so tangible it cannot be described. My heart cannot contain itself in this earthly vessel, I feel love spill out of me, and I know this is only a grain of God’s love, but it is vast and beautiful. I weep from its sheer depth, and I am astounded by its profundity. This is only a drop of water from the ocean of God’s love, but oh how rich it has been. Be content.
At these inexpressible, unutterable moments when I let God embrace my soul the heat is only a brief moment in the context of who God is. When my daughter’s anger is inconsolable, it has been my pleasure to love her. This too is God’s grace.
I have tasted God’s gracious nature, and I have felt His kindness upon me, and I have personally experienced the boundless love of God.
God has taught me to be content. “My grace is sufficient for you.”
copyright2009misfit1965
I don’t own a car, so my daughter and I ride the bus all over town whenever we cannot get a ride to our destination. (I don’t have the proper credit to purchase a car.) In my hometown, which is Fresno it gets pretty hot in the summer, upwards of 107. At times we catch two busses. Some busses have the luxury of passing every 15 minutes, others only every 30 minutes. On the weekends its every 30 minutes, and once every hour. So it is quite an inconvenience. I owned a car only once, and that was because my older brother purchased it for $1,900. It was a 1990 Nissan Stanza that worked exactly one year.(2003-2004)
Paul writes be content with the bus so to speak. Be happy you have a convenient, inexpensive form of transportation. “I walked most of the time,” he probably would have told me.
Paul had so many trials, there was the bit about the thorn in the flesh. (2 Corinthians 12:7) He entreated the Lord three times to take it away. But the Lord answered," My grace is sufficient for you, my stength is made perfect in weakness." (2Cortinthians 12:9)
My thorns, I have quite a few of them. One of the thorns that has stabbed me, and has cleaved to me is loneliness. I have never been married. I, like Paul prayed about my situation, and God did not answer me as I would have liked. For anyone who has experienced this particular type of loneliness, it hurts when the natural tendency is to be apart of someone else. Who knows the reasons why God does not answer seemingly reasonable prayers? He leaves the thorn, and tells us as he told Paul, “My grace is sufficient for you.”
So I have raised my child as a single parent. Her father has been God. Paul would say, “I should still be content, even if I do not have the things I think I need.” According to church historians, Paul may have been married at one point in his life, then been widowed. But at the time he wrote about the thorn I don’t believe so. He must have needed the tenderness of a woman. But then again, he spoke of the gift of singleness. Maybe he had it. Maybe I have some form of it, without realizing. Maybe the pangs of loneliness would bite deeper without God’s grace. Who knows?
I have done most of my novel writing out of loneliness. Some of my most elaborate characterizations have been born from it. I have written about Christopher to escape it. He has been my strategem against it. Again Paul writes, “Be content.”
My daughter was diagnosed with pediatric bi-polar disorder at age 9. She has been on meds since she was 7. My child, though beautiful has been a challenge. Despite her illness, I know she is a blessing from the Lord. When I let the Holy Spirit assuage itself in me, I feel a joy so tangible it cannot be described. My heart cannot contain itself in this earthly vessel, I feel love spill out of me, and I know this is only a grain of God’s love, but it is vast and beautiful. I weep from its sheer depth, and I am astounded by its profundity. This is only a drop of water from the ocean of God’s love, but oh how rich it has been. Be content.
At these inexpressible, unutterable moments when I let God embrace my soul the heat is only a brief moment in the context of who God is. When my daughter’s anger is inconsolable, it has been my pleasure to love her. This too is God’s grace.
I have tasted God’s gracious nature, and I have felt His kindness upon me, and I have personally experienced the boundless love of God.
God has taught me to be content. “My grace is sufficient for you.”
copyright2009misfit1965
i am a servant to The Glory of God
i live for the Lord Jesus Christ and unto His Majesty and Glory. I pray every night for His Glory to be Magnified upon the earth. my great desire is that people believe in the Lord Jesus in His Gracious and Magnanimous Gift of Salvation. He is the reason i live. i worship Him out of pure joy and astonishment. i never believed i would receive so much wonder out of Praising Him. it will be my utmost honour to Praise Him day and night as the Living Creatures and as the angels already do.
As a servant of God. As a daughter of Glory i am His Ambassador. i represent Him to Exalt His Name. it is the desire of my humble and grateful soul to Love Him with every fibre of my heart, mind, soul and strength. In doing so i must Honour Him. Although i am so impressed by the very gifted people here on RB, and have favourited a variety of work, including writings and art. To my dismay all of it does not favour, mention or represent My Lord Jesus, to whom i have devoted my soul to. i regret having chosen some work not because the quality is poor rather for its content. Some of the works i have favourited are by people i have come to care about. These are souls i have begun the journey of prayer for. i take many of your names to the Holy Throne of My Precious Saviour. i desire to see all of you in Heaven. There are those of you that are saved, and are my brothers and sisters In-Christ already. i rejoice that we shall spend an eternity together. i look forward to seeing you after this life has been exhausted. There are writings i rightly favourited as they Exalt and Praise OUR JESUS. Writings by Siki Dlanga and Rishani. There are others of you that use your beautiful talents in His Praise. i enjoy the writings of GGGlory, darkbeauty, Russell Holder, and chrisuk, my little monkey. Only you are not really a monkey you are the dearest person.
For all of you that give GLORY to GOD i am so grateful for, as we are here to display our Faith, in the hopes that some would embrace Christ as their Saviour and Lord. i didn’t always write solely for God. i have had a difficult journey. my journey has been raising my daughter who has been diagnosed with bi-polar disorder at 9 years of age. With God at the helm of this ship, He and i have raised her, as He is the only Father she has ever known. She (bluecrystal93) has made her pain known in a poem entitled Scar. (To which Siki has graciously written a poem for her entitled, Healing for Bluecrystal) i cry every time i read it. Then there are my own struggles and bouts with borderline personality disorder. i used to slice my skin in the past. i have legs and arms riddled with scars. i have written about that. Still these struggles do not compare with the Glory that shall be revealed in us as the Apostle Paul writes in the book of Romans 8:18.
We are on a journey together. We who believe in Christ work together to present our art and writings to put on display our Faith in Him. It is not an easy task as the devil also has his writers and artists. But we who Love Jesus know that He has overcome the world. Yet i will not cease going on to unbelievers sites in the hopes that they will believe someday, i write their names upon my heart to give to God in hopes that they too will come to repentance. Oh, that they would know the ALL ENCOMPASSING LOVE OF OUR LORD JESUS CHRIST! i sing a song in my praises from a man who attends Grace Church entitled, JESUS. He sings, "HE"S WONDERFUL, THE LOVE OF JESUS IS SO WONDERFUL, HE GAVE HIS LIFE ON CALVARY ONE DAY TO SAVE A WRETCH LIKE ME!"
To some i seem like a fanatic, a fool, simple-minded and crazy. But i do not care. i will embrace those things because HE IS MY EAST, MY WEST, MY NORTH, AND MY SOUTH, MY UP, MY DOWN, MY LEFT AND MY RIGHT! So i simply do not care about my reputation, which i do not desire anyway. i have been rejected outside of RB where i actually do my living anyway so many times it has made me embrace MY JESUS even more. i will not deny MY LORD JESUS. HE is In me and i in Him. i celebrate HIM.
i will continue to pray for you. i choose to do so as i find wonderful joy in doing so.
i have found wonderful people as well who believe. i do not neglect to write that i have found wonderful brothers and sisters in Walt (madvlad), Lee (EllsEssDee) colindove, chrisuk, Russell Holder, Siki Dlanga, Rishani, Marlene (mysdesign), Barbara (Franticflagwave), Victoria Sheldon. Who i am convinced have Faith in the Precious Life Saving Blood of Jesus Christ. Then there are others whose salvation i am not altogether certain of, but have come to love and care a great deal about them. i would also like to include those who have joined me on facebook these friends include retroeight (Matt), april mansilla, trenchtownrock (chris) cassidy (whom i haven’t been in touch with lately, i pray he is well.), Tanner Ragland, KMP Master, TMatianaJ and Anthea Slade, my father’s partner in crime. Annika (Akiqueen), Soloman Walker, troader, Tahnja, Katya. And my dear friend Hillary (darkvampire).
As i started out writing i have favourited work that hasn’t always been favourable to, mentioned, or Praised my Saviour Jesus Christ. i still have hope that one day these talented people will also use their gifts For the GLORY OF GOD. As their gifts have come from ALMIGHTY GOD to be used in the PRAISE OF JESUS CHRIST.
i first want to thank MY LORD JESUS CHRIST for allowing me the priviledge of writing on RB. I also thank RB for allowing me the priviledge of writing here. i would like to take the opportunity to thank all of the writers and artists who have taken the time to read and comment on my writings. Some come to mind immediately Reynaldo my wonderfully funny father who has supported me from the beginning, and Lee who has commented extensively. i also thank the many groups (particularly FOR THE LOVE OF JESUS, Living Christianity and Core) who have graciously featured my writings over the past year since I began in July 2009. TO OUR LORD JESUS CHRIST BE ALL PRAISE AND GLORY NOW AND FOREVER!!! HE IS THE ALPHA AND THE OMEGA, THE ONE WHO WAS, AND IS, AND IS TO COME!!!!!
(taken from a Red Bubble journal)
As a servant of God. As a daughter of Glory i am His Ambassador. i represent Him to Exalt His Name. it is the desire of my humble and grateful soul to Love Him with every fibre of my heart, mind, soul and strength. In doing so i must Honour Him. Although i am so impressed by the very gifted people here on RB, and have favourited a variety of work, including writings and art. To my dismay all of it does not favour, mention or represent My Lord Jesus, to whom i have devoted my soul to. i regret having chosen some work not because the quality is poor rather for its content. Some of the works i have favourited are by people i have come to care about. These are souls i have begun the journey of prayer for. i take many of your names to the Holy Throne of My Precious Saviour. i desire to see all of you in Heaven. There are those of you that are saved, and are my brothers and sisters In-Christ already. i rejoice that we shall spend an eternity together. i look forward to seeing you after this life has been exhausted. There are writings i rightly favourited as they Exalt and Praise OUR JESUS. Writings by Siki Dlanga and Rishani. There are others of you that use your beautiful talents in His Praise. i enjoy the writings of GGGlory, darkbeauty, Russell Holder, and chrisuk, my little monkey. Only you are not really a monkey you are the dearest person.
For all of you that give GLORY to GOD i am so grateful for, as we are here to display our Faith, in the hopes that some would embrace Christ as their Saviour and Lord. i didn’t always write solely for God. i have had a difficult journey. my journey has been raising my daughter who has been diagnosed with bi-polar disorder at 9 years of age. With God at the helm of this ship, He and i have raised her, as He is the only Father she has ever known. She (bluecrystal93) has made her pain known in a poem entitled Scar. (To which Siki has graciously written a poem for her entitled, Healing for Bluecrystal) i cry every time i read it. Then there are my own struggles and bouts with borderline personality disorder. i used to slice my skin in the past. i have legs and arms riddled with scars. i have written about that. Still these struggles do not compare with the Glory that shall be revealed in us as the Apostle Paul writes in the book of Romans 8:18.
We are on a journey together. We who believe in Christ work together to present our art and writings to put on display our Faith in Him. It is not an easy task as the devil also has his writers and artists. But we who Love Jesus know that He has overcome the world. Yet i will not cease going on to unbelievers sites in the hopes that they will believe someday, i write their names upon my heart to give to God in hopes that they too will come to repentance. Oh, that they would know the ALL ENCOMPASSING LOVE OF OUR LORD JESUS CHRIST! i sing a song in my praises from a man who attends Grace Church entitled, JESUS. He sings, "HE"S WONDERFUL, THE LOVE OF JESUS IS SO WONDERFUL, HE GAVE HIS LIFE ON CALVARY ONE DAY TO SAVE A WRETCH LIKE ME!"
To some i seem like a fanatic, a fool, simple-minded and crazy. But i do not care. i will embrace those things because HE IS MY EAST, MY WEST, MY NORTH, AND MY SOUTH, MY UP, MY DOWN, MY LEFT AND MY RIGHT! So i simply do not care about my reputation, which i do not desire anyway. i have been rejected outside of RB where i actually do my living anyway so many times it has made me embrace MY JESUS even more. i will not deny MY LORD JESUS. HE is In me and i in Him. i celebrate HIM.
i will continue to pray for you. i choose to do so as i find wonderful joy in doing so.
i have found wonderful people as well who believe. i do not neglect to write that i have found wonderful brothers and sisters in Walt (madvlad), Lee (EllsEssDee) colindove, chrisuk, Russell Holder, Siki Dlanga, Rishani, Marlene (mysdesign), Barbara (Franticflagwave), Victoria Sheldon. Who i am convinced have Faith in the Precious Life Saving Blood of Jesus Christ. Then there are others whose salvation i am not altogether certain of, but have come to love and care a great deal about them. i would also like to include those who have joined me on facebook these friends include retroeight (Matt), april mansilla, trenchtownrock (chris) cassidy (whom i haven’t been in touch with lately, i pray he is well.), Tanner Ragland, KMP Master, TMatianaJ and Anthea Slade, my father’s partner in crime. Annika (Akiqueen), Soloman Walker, troader, Tahnja, Katya. And my dear friend Hillary (darkvampire).
As i started out writing i have favourited work that hasn’t always been favourable to, mentioned, or Praised my Saviour Jesus Christ. i still have hope that one day these talented people will also use their gifts For the GLORY OF GOD. As their gifts have come from ALMIGHTY GOD to be used in the PRAISE OF JESUS CHRIST.
i first want to thank MY LORD JESUS CHRIST for allowing me the priviledge of writing on RB. I also thank RB for allowing me the priviledge of writing here. i would like to take the opportunity to thank all of the writers and artists who have taken the time to read and comment on my writings. Some come to mind immediately Reynaldo my wonderfully funny father who has supported me from the beginning, and Lee who has commented extensively. i also thank the many groups (particularly FOR THE LOVE OF JESUS, Living Christianity and Core) who have graciously featured my writings over the past year since I began in July 2009. TO OUR LORD JESUS CHRIST BE ALL PRAISE AND GLORY NOW AND FOREVER!!! HE IS THE ALPHA AND THE OMEGA, THE ONE WHO WAS, AND IS, AND IS TO COME!!!!!
(taken from a Red Bubble journal)
Friend
Friend,
I don’t know if it’s me you’re talking to? Or if it’s God this anger is directed against. I am nothing in the scheme of things. Who is anything? Our lives are like vapor. We are but a grain of sand among the myriad and myriad of sand. A speck floating in the vast of all of open space. When our progeny is gone who will even miss us?
I will say, I was not born for me, or for you, or for my daughter, or family,
I was born for God. My plans, oh, there have been many, so many, crashed, incinerated, ripped to shred ideas I had of how my life should have went, but didn’t.
Yes, it was all, F’d up. All of it. How I had a child out of wedlock to a man that abandoned us both when she was still inside my womb. He acted as if he merely defecated, and then never looked back. Never gave a F about us. You can’t know what kind of hell that is, because you haven’t been a woman whose carried a child. It should have been the happiest time of my life. I prayed and prayed that the river of tears that I drowned in every night wouldn’t affect her. Kneeling up until I was eight months pregnant, and I just couldn’t get down far enough anymore. Reading Romans 8 everynight as if our lives depended upon it. Taking every verse and committing it to memory, because that is what I had to keep myself alive. God gave me that bread to eat so I would survive.
I think all of those who have read my work know my daughter Emma, has a mental illness, I think I’ve written bi-polar disorder. I prayed so hard sometimes, my face to the floor, tasting the hairs that the cheap vacuum couldn’t always clean up. Dried mucous smeared across my cheek, make-up like sh T. So no I am not Mary Sunshine, Carol Brady, or even a woman whose life has gone traditionally well?
Do you think you are the only one whose been stabbed in the throat by love? Please. I have had so much unrequited love it is laughable, how I could have been so deceived or that simple-minded, or that diluted. It happens alot. But God isn’t to blame for our failed romances. He just isn’t. We decide to sin, fornicate, whatever. Love people who we know cannot love us back. At least I knew. The married men I had gone with. Who promised things they were unable to give.
Why must we always blame someone? Why not put the blame where it squarely belongs, why not point that revolver of blame between our own eyes. That’s where most of it belongs.
You don’ t have faith, and you blame God, and you blame me, and other people. Faith is a gift. Faith isn’t a prayer prayed at a tent revival or at a Football stadium somewhere. Faith is the supernatural work of God. Grace is the Gift of a Kind and Merciful God. We all deserve the Fire Pit. But God wants to run into that burning building and pull us out one by one. But some of us want to inhale the smoke, and choke to death on it.
I can’t say when I exactly came to faith. God was bringing me and bringing me and calling and wooing me. It may have taken years for me. For some it is overnight. But when one comes to faith, one wants to live for Jesus. God doesn’t let you sin without consequences. He lovingly chastises His children. But you will not just live how you want to live, and you don’t even want to live like a pig anymore. You just don’t. I know alot of people may think I am a judgmental, narrow-minded bigot. Some, don’t get why anyone would follow an ancient book in this century. Why it would even still be applicable? I don’t care what others may think. You write you don’t want me to care about you. Actually I don’t care about you. If I didn’t have the Holy Spirit believe me, none of this would even matter to me. The Lord Jesus loves you and cares about you. You may not want His love or my concern. I will not stop praying for you. You never have to respond to me again. It isn’t about what others may feel or don’t feel for me. I still pray for everyone I ever had a connection with, whether or not they choose to communicate with me. The Love of Jesus compels me to. You may not understand, in fact alot of people do not get it.
You write that you don’t care if you burn in hell? I used to say the same thing everynight before I would go to bed in my early 20’s. " I don’t care if you send me straight to hell."
I did. This was after I was given a marvelous revelation. I had read the bible from cover to cover when I was 20. But Grace is always given in God’s Time not ours. Since Salvation is God’s Gift He will give it in His Time, and not in ours. You will be rejoicing with me in the New Jerusalem. In fact I have faith that all of the friends I pray for will be with the Lord Jesus Christ in Paradise. For you see I believe you are already written in the Lamb’s Book of Life.
God bless you friend. TO THE LAMB OF GOD, THE LORD JESUS CHRIST BE ALL GLORY NOW AND FOREVER!!!!
In-Christ’s Love,
matty
I don’t know if it’s me you’re talking to? Or if it’s God this anger is directed against. I am nothing in the scheme of things. Who is anything? Our lives are like vapor. We are but a grain of sand among the myriad and myriad of sand. A speck floating in the vast of all of open space. When our progeny is gone who will even miss us?
I will say, I was not born for me, or for you, or for my daughter, or family,
I was born for God. My plans, oh, there have been many, so many, crashed, incinerated, ripped to shred ideas I had of how my life should have went, but didn’t.
Yes, it was all, F’d up. All of it. How I had a child out of wedlock to a man that abandoned us both when she was still inside my womb. He acted as if he merely defecated, and then never looked back. Never gave a F about us. You can’t know what kind of hell that is, because you haven’t been a woman whose carried a child. It should have been the happiest time of my life. I prayed and prayed that the river of tears that I drowned in every night wouldn’t affect her. Kneeling up until I was eight months pregnant, and I just couldn’t get down far enough anymore. Reading Romans 8 everynight as if our lives depended upon it. Taking every verse and committing it to memory, because that is what I had to keep myself alive. God gave me that bread to eat so I would survive.
I think all of those who have read my work know my daughter Emma, has a mental illness, I think I’ve written bi-polar disorder. I prayed so hard sometimes, my face to the floor, tasting the hairs that the cheap vacuum couldn’t always clean up. Dried mucous smeared across my cheek, make-up like sh T. So no I am not Mary Sunshine, Carol Brady, or even a woman whose life has gone traditionally well?
Do you think you are the only one whose been stabbed in the throat by love? Please. I have had so much unrequited love it is laughable, how I could have been so deceived or that simple-minded, or that diluted. It happens alot. But God isn’t to blame for our failed romances. He just isn’t. We decide to sin, fornicate, whatever. Love people who we know cannot love us back. At least I knew. The married men I had gone with. Who promised things they were unable to give.
Why must we always blame someone? Why not put the blame where it squarely belongs, why not point that revolver of blame between our own eyes. That’s where most of it belongs.
You don’ t have faith, and you blame God, and you blame me, and other people. Faith is a gift. Faith isn’t a prayer prayed at a tent revival or at a Football stadium somewhere. Faith is the supernatural work of God. Grace is the Gift of a Kind and Merciful God. We all deserve the Fire Pit. But God wants to run into that burning building and pull us out one by one. But some of us want to inhale the smoke, and choke to death on it.
I can’t say when I exactly came to faith. God was bringing me and bringing me and calling and wooing me. It may have taken years for me. For some it is overnight. But when one comes to faith, one wants to live for Jesus. God doesn’t let you sin without consequences. He lovingly chastises His children. But you will not just live how you want to live, and you don’t even want to live like a pig anymore. You just don’t. I know alot of people may think I am a judgmental, narrow-minded bigot. Some, don’t get why anyone would follow an ancient book in this century. Why it would even still be applicable? I don’t care what others may think. You write you don’t want me to care about you. Actually I don’t care about you. If I didn’t have the Holy Spirit believe me, none of this would even matter to me. The Lord Jesus loves you and cares about you. You may not want His love or my concern. I will not stop praying for you. You never have to respond to me again. It isn’t about what others may feel or don’t feel for me. I still pray for everyone I ever had a connection with, whether or not they choose to communicate with me. The Love of Jesus compels me to. You may not understand, in fact alot of people do not get it.
You write that you don’t care if you burn in hell? I used to say the same thing everynight before I would go to bed in my early 20’s. " I don’t care if you send me straight to hell."
I did. This was after I was given a marvelous revelation. I had read the bible from cover to cover when I was 20. But Grace is always given in God’s Time not ours. Since Salvation is God’s Gift He will give it in His Time, and not in ours. You will be rejoicing with me in the New Jerusalem. In fact I have faith that all of the friends I pray for will be with the Lord Jesus Christ in Paradise. For you see I believe you are already written in the Lamb’s Book of Life.
God bless you friend. TO THE LAMB OF GOD, THE LORD JESUS CHRIST BE ALL GLORY NOW AND FOREVER!!!!
In-Christ’s Love,
matty
At The Feet of The Lord Jesus
I tell myself over and over again give yourself to The Lord Jesus. Throw yourselves at His Feet, and on His Mercy and cling to that Hem of His Garment. Never take His Love for granted. Never believe you have reached a point where you never have to humble yourself like a child at His Feet, and pour out your tears.
It is my hope, my prayer, that the wounds are healed inside each one of you, those places that are so raw, you never visit them, nor ever like to talk about them. Those concealed wounds you have camouflaged maybe even for years, that when they do come up in conversation, it tears the heads of those scabs clean off. And the pain just spills out and bleeds out of you and the same anguish takes hold of you all over again! These are the things we must give to Jesus, our hearts that are so tender and broken!
I more than anyone, stumble over and over, with the same issues. I tell myself, “I have given this to you so many times, Lord! But, I humble myself again, and lay myself at Your Feet, and give my heart to You fresh every day. My heart with its holes belongs only to You. I surrender the unforgiveness and all that comes between us. I long for Your Garment, i long for Your Feet, and i long to lay down my pretense of being a good person. You are my Righteousness, my Hope, my Faith, my Lovingkindness, and without you I have no Peace, no Love, no Hope, and no Faith. It is only by Your Gentle Spirit that i am guided along this wreckage that is my soul, but You cleanse me of my own self-righteousness, You pour Your Oil into me, and bathe me in Your Precious Blood! You Are my Glory, and my Forgiveness! You are my Chance in this life, and though i continually stumble with that hurt that has plagued me from the past, that demons bring up, i throw myself at Your Feet, like the adulteress, i lean against Your Bosom like John, and i sit at Your feet like Mary, leaving my busyness behind me.”
There are some hurts too horrible to imagine. Our Lord never describes the size of the burden. But every burden is to be laid at The Feet of The Lord Jesus. Everything from divorce to rape to murder. In every possible way that another has caused us to suffer, this is what must be given continually to The Lord in prayer. At His Feet we find rest, we find restoration, we find healing. At His Feet is where curses turn to blessings, and sorrow to joy! At His Feet there is a choir of angels singing Praises to The Glory of God! At His Feet there is so much beauty! At His Feet is the place where Jesus reveals His Purposes! At His Feet is where sinners feel like saints, and not the monsters we once were! At His Feet God reveals His Heart, His Wounds, it is where we see His Love poured out! At His Feet is worship of The Lamb! At His Feet there is Unity, Harmony, and gold crowns are cast!
Don’t let pride keep you from kissing His Feet, from throwing kisses to Heaven, from the floor being transformed into so much more! It may be that your face is plastered against an unvacuumed carpet, but when you pour Your Heart as Praise and Thanksgiving the floor becomes the court of Heaven!
Don’t let unforgiveness, pride, or fear, keep you from receiving the blessings of worshiping Jesus! Come To The Feet of Jesus! It is Where His Cross Is! Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is The Kingdom of Heaven! Blessed are you when you realize that Jesus, The Lord Jesus, is much more beautiful when you come down off your own pedestal to worship at His Footstool!
ALL GLORY! PRAISE! HONOUR! AND WORSHIP! TO HIM WHO WAS! AND IS! AND IS TO COME AGAIN! ALL FOR THE LORD JESUS CHRIST!
misfit1965
(not my image)
i found mold on the ceiling of my heart
After the dust has settled
and nothing but bones have remained,
i wake up from sleep,
as a deep coma,
the years passed without
bothering to inform that they
had exited,
leaving me crow’s feet
and the insurmountable
bills of foolish decisions,
gripping and clinging
too long
to strangers whose
quick acquaintence
masqueraded as love,
the rope of loving them,
choked common sense,
love knew no propriety
as i loved college professors,
and a therapist
whose pace-maker he insisted
i trace with the hungriest
of fingers,
this morning i have finally decided
to give up trying to fix
the dissolution
of a marriage that my parents
had vowed to keep
in 1963
the thousands of puzzles
and conundrums,
the hundreds of mouse
traps that have gone
off inside my head
snapping me back
to the reality of NOW!
so-called solutions
i have erased,
i have tired of prying them
from My Saviour’s Hands,
graciously He returns
the remnants and fragments
of what i had believed trust,
and love, and hope to be
i can only sense He knew
i would be back to carry
those broken pieces
that i continually tried
to paste with saliva,
and incinerated fingerprints
It was noon,
I’ve finished lumpy porridge,
but your eyes didn’t meet me
across the kitchen table,
i averted my eyes away
only a second from you,
to look up and find you gone
wasn’t my desperation good enough?
i struggled with how often
i would let those i loved
rip out my entrails
relatives knew no boundaries
did not respect the treaties
made,
nor acknowledged borders
i had forged
For years my eyes
have been oceans
the thousands of times
i let all of you break my eyes apart
and search through them
for yourselves?
weren’t you given permission
to re-build them
wasn’t your vision of my abuse
enough?
for you?
for us?
thoughtless words
flew at us
when we tore and rend
our souls with words,
when the shards
are so vicious,
they become exact
as scalpels,
When i was 27,
the first demon
breathed his curse
relentless hoofs
crushed my chest,
everybody knew i battled demons
that i tilt at invisible windmills
no one but i have sensed
my Sword has fallen into such
disrepair,
a blunt blade,
will never send those
gargoyles back into
the pit from whence
they crawled from,
For some weeks now,
my secret has found
sunlight and burst open
i found mold on the ceiling
of my heart,
i pray the Holy Spirit
would flush the worst
of me out
God scrubs the bitterness
with tests and trials
but i refuse to relinquish the hurt
let me keep my incisions fresh
let them get infected
i need the poison of my pain,
the rust of my tears
acid liquid to polish
flesh
Jesus, i wrote politely on skin
dipped into scarlet ink
no more confessions
disrobing the sin in front of You
real prayers peel the layers
of doubt away,
as i lay paralyzed on the floor
i don’t mean to crawl,
somedays i can’t even walk
When yesterday,
i soared with wings like an eagles
this minute, i am reduced
dumb ostrich with prayers
buried in the sand
depression has buried
my soul deep in the wreckage
i remember Loving You
was better than life,
when Your Love kept me
sane,
in the world of my
disquieted nature
When Your Presence
pierced the fortresses
my soul has put up
to keep all the others
out
My suspicions never Included
You,
i distrusted quarreling
parents,
and suspected religion
of emptiness,
chalked up my relationships
to enigmas
to the strange heads
on Easter Island
the coarse Englishman,
the old professor with cat hairs
on his sweater,
my volatile daughter
and the strangers
with the multiple arms
of Shiva,
who constantly
need to be embraced
i retreat into the foreign
rooms of myself
listening to Kyu Saktamoto,
and Domenico Mundungo
the lyrics i could not translate
still love was just as indeciperable
the irony of it pleased me
a wierd appetite,
my flesh has told my spirit
it will not surrender,
without an Armageddon
of it’s own
Often i find myself
waking up in a pools
of blood,
“Where are You?”
Your Love is better
than all things combined
i retreat into the igloo
inside,
love has frozen over,
the ice state of civility,
in places where etiquette
is considered love,
i walked away from
so many wildernesses
called “churches”,
where love was reduced
to ritual, and ceremony,
when singing hymns,
programs,
and a multitude of bible
studies
was the depth
of revelation.
40 days or 40 years
know that i will bear
the sand in my heart
until i find my way
back into Your Presence.
copyright2011misfit1965
(image not mine)
Stale Cookie
Under a blanket on a slab off to the side of the road
Jesus lays His Head among the poorest of the poor
Cars pass by, headlights nearly miss Him
He has nowhere to lay His Head,
But He cannot leave the poor in the street
Ministering to Them in Spirit and Truth
They begin to sing psalms
around a trash can on fire to warm their hands
People pass by and shake their heads
“Lazy”, they hear
“Drug addict.”
“Whore.”
“Degenerate.”
“Sub-humans.”
“Losers.”
Under the holes of a blanket a lady peeps a single eye
a tear has slipped through the filthy rag,
“I lost my job six months ago”
She explained to another
as they shared a brown paper bag,
Another man munched on a stale cookie,
“I got this from the shelter.”
But they were full, and I couldn’t sleep there tonight.
Jesus lays His Head among the poorest of the poor
Cars pass by, headlights nearly miss Him
He has nowhere to lay His Head,
But He cannot leave the poor in the street
Ministering to Them in Spirit and Truth
They begin to sing psalms
around a trash can on fire to warm their hands
People pass by and shake their heads
“Lazy”, they hear
“Drug addict.”
“Whore.”
“Degenerate.”
“Sub-humans.”
“Losers.”
Under the holes of a blanket a lady peeps a single eye
a tear has slipped through the filthy rag,
“I lost my job six months ago”
She explained to another
as they shared a brown paper bag,
Another man munched on a stale cookie,
“I got this from the shelter.”
But they were full, and I couldn’t sleep there tonight.
As a child
As a child,
dependent upon You
to protect and carry me until the morning
as a child, I depend on Your Love
to satisfy all of my needs,
You take hold of my weak hand and lead
me through the rough roads
gently You pull my hand away
from the roads that lead to perdition
You lead me, and in submission i follow
You,
Knowing You mean my Good
Knowing i can trust You
not to abandon
i rest my soul in You
as a child rests against the Heart
of a parent
confident that i may lean as long
until the fears are assuaged
secure that You will not hurry me
away for someone important
as a child Yours is the Heart
i set my affections upon
Yours is the heart my weak heart
takes shelter in
You feed me
clothe me
shelter me
You are my Refuge
the longings for my struggling
Holiness is Your House
Heaven is Your Throne
The earth Your footstool
You are my Father,
as a child daily i need You
as a child daily You fill me
with Your Presence
Blowing kisses to Heaven
is the child that loves and longs
to Be with her Father.
“lo, I Am with you always, even to the end of the age.”
(Matthew 28:20)
misfit1965
(not my image)
Besieged
If I could find my Lord today
without having to look inside
if He could reason with the stitches
that have opened themselves again,
if He could take His hands and close
the gashes with a touch
hold my wrists with the holes in His
stop my spirit from spilling out
build a fortress around
my besieged body
keep the demons from
entering
like You did before
when their angelic claws
suffocated me
when essences
of evil conspired
to rape my will
castrating my senses
distorting the voice
that identified me
as they battled to stay
and I knew their demon
hoofs on my flesh
and the violation
of their presences
I fell into a seizure
trying to get out
of myself,
to get out from
under a gargantuan
wingspan
to escape the dominions
of ancient
and heaving
oppression
bound by
tongues of deceit
the wicked
embattlements
bombarded
mere skin
as they slipped chains
on my throat
as I battled
for speech
but grunted
and moaned
for the gift
of the words
once mine
Do again
what you did
then
when you forced
the principalities
when you ejected
the usurpers
from me
when they attempted
to establish their throne
in me
and You established yours
instead
Do now
what You did then
copyright2010misfit1965
(image not mine)
enemy you've cut me for the last time
enemy, you’ve cut me for the last time
I have my shield, and I have my Sword out
to cut you to shreds with the Word
enemy, you’ve cut me for the last time
I am girded in the Lord
I have my breastplate on this time
my faith will sustain me
when the world seeks to get me
to turn on myself
enemy, you’ve cut me for the last time
I belong to the Lord
He paid for me with His precious Blood
so I am through shedding mine
enemy, you’ve cut me for the last time
I reject your lies
your words of torment hurled
at me to destroy
enemy, you’ve cut me for the last time
I don’t want your pain!
The satanic lies that I need it to survive
when all I need is prayer to get through
the storm
enemy, you’ve cut me for the last time
weakened the Body of Christ
tore me to shreds with
razor blades because you’ve
already lost,
enemy, you’ve cut me for the last time
I hide in my Lord
I and the man from the Gadarenes
have our portion with the Lord
and all the children of destruction
born with thunderous urges to
destroy ourselves
know that it was put into you
by the enemy
Christ came to free us
to free the captives
enemy, you’ve cut me for the last time
I reverence the sacredness of life,
and the Blood of the Lord poured into me
I take my place beside Him
you’ve cut me for the last time
copyright2010misfit1965
(image not mine)
The Girl
The girl hasn’t discovered her wings yet,
not realizing the strength of her soul
nor realizing that was God’s gift to her survival
so, she walks around as a caterpillar,
unaware of who she is
she hasn’t taken off her veil yet,
and woken up next to a man
she is a virgin of spirit,
even if there have been dozens of men
none loved her, and to be loved,
in the act of intimacy is a sacred act
the demons call her “slut”,
and she calls herself, “whore”
not understanding she is the Lord’s bride,
and He sees her as washed
She hears the whispers that drive her urge
to stick nails up her arms
she bears the wounds of her attacks on herself,
falsely believing she is worthless
demons laugh, seeing her take razors
her thighs undiscovered, she wears the razors on them,
deep slashes, still fresh and unproven
she has the obsessive desire to be punished
to be nailed to her private cross,
not realizing the Lord has done it for her
everything spins around in her like a blender
to shred her decency and dignity
she feels God has abandoned her
even though He never will
demons talk of legalism and works
working your way to heaven or hell
they hand her more razors to crucify
her flesh with
and they laugh some more
grace is a word in a dictionary to her
her prayers never seem to reach past
the ceiling
in desperation she clings to her only friends,
the razors
who smile with their deceptive shiny
silver teeth
stroking her beautifully,
yet cutting tissue
with every touch
she bleeds
straight lines of blood,
rows of faithful and beaten soldiers
rushed down her thigh
past her knees
leaping to their premature deaths
she pushes the razor in like a penis
a few times until she grows weary
of the pain it causes her
she never cries publicly anymore
her mother told her not to make a spectacle
of herself
the girl hates her black coarse hair
men don’t respect her hair
this hurts they never touch it
ashamed she wears a baseball cap
to hide her ugly hair
now, she has shaved it off like a man
to pretend she is not even a woman
the girl has other secrects she hates
too much flesh
she considers it a huge blemish
the worst scar she can think of
to avoid that she rushes to the bathroom
sticking a finger like a straw to suck the food
out of her body
not realizing God puts no pre-requisites on
weight,
He extends His arms out to her,
she misses Him,
her bloodshot eyes blind her
the girl weeps when no one is around
she inspects her nude body in front
of a broken mirror
her skin is bronze, and shiny like mud
nobody wanted the muddy girl
maybe they thought she was filthy
God offers to cleanse her with hyssop,
and make her whiter than snow
but she hates Him right now
and blames Him for her loneliness
she has a doll she sleeps beside
her name is Emma
Emma is her constant companion
she takes her everywhere,
she’s had her for six years
it was a gift that was hard to unwrap
it took twenty long hours to pull
all the wrappings off
the experience of being the one another
depends on changed her forever
children are a heritage of the Lord
and God is a father to the fatherless
the girl creates characters to keep her
company, to guard the castle of her heart,
her bottle is a diet two liter soda,
all she has to inebriate her
her lover Vladimir,
who she threw away
sits beside her,
one of the demons in disguise
the girl takes the raw meat from under
her breast and puts it under her pillow
she protects her lumpy clump of blood
though people falsely believe she wears it
as a fresh badge,
she fools the world and herself
but never the Lord
the girl is a chameleon and changes
able to love many times and many things
her greatest gift is her ability to love others
her greatest flaw is her inability to love
herself
people can change with grace
In the meantime,
the girl exists a prisoner of her fantasies
she cannot escape or will not
and is trapped in a world of illusions
in another place,
where dragons and knights are neighbors
she foolishly believes she has escaped the
rules of morality and has created her own values
God doesn’t exist there,
But God has a way of finding the girl
He always has
copyright 2010misfit1965
(not my image)
After I've Shredded Christ's Precious Flesh
After I’ve shredded Christ’s precious flesh
Then I hear satan’s laughter
My legs were the battlefield of the ages
The scratches were against my Lord
with every drag of the razor
the skin I should have valued
has died on me
But He died for me
I didn’t need to bleed
I didn’t have to tear at my sins
like that
After I’ve shredded Christ’s precious flesh
sixty demons have been run off
when I’ve cried “Abba”
His tears wash out my wounds
what is the reason for this flood
of violence that has no reason
but instinctual mourning
that goes back to the Baal
worshippers, ripping at their
bodies to get the attention
of some demon
then Elijah cried out
to the Almighty,
After I’ve shredded Christ’s precious flesh
thousands of needles stab at me
and the legs the Lord meant
for spreading the gospel
is swaddled in bloody
bandages,
I should have praised
with Paul and Silas in the jail
cell in the darkness of that
hour
After I’ve shredded Christ’s precious flesh
why would I take the whip to His back again
and open Him up
simply for a demonic urge
I needed to take up the sword
of the Word
battled those same devils
that mocked my Christ
so long ago,
After I’ve shredded Christ’s precious flesh
the cuts have scarred Jesus again
and I look upon the damaged tissue
an expression of fallen mankind
which knows not what it does
without the Good Shepherd
to lead him in the paths of
righteousness
and God takes the wounded
lamb upon His shoulders
After I’ve shredded Christ’s precious flesh
copyright2010misfit1965
Then I hear satan’s laughter
My legs were the battlefield of the ages
The scratches were against my Lord
with every drag of the razor
the skin I should have valued
has died on me
But He died for me
I didn’t need to bleed
I didn’t have to tear at my sins
like that
After I’ve shredded Christ’s precious flesh
sixty demons have been run off
when I’ve cried “Abba”
His tears wash out my wounds
what is the reason for this flood
of violence that has no reason
but instinctual mourning
that goes back to the Baal
worshippers, ripping at their
bodies to get the attention
of some demon
then Elijah cried out
to the Almighty,
After I’ve shredded Christ’s precious flesh
thousands of needles stab at me
and the legs the Lord meant
for spreading the gospel
is swaddled in bloody
bandages,
I should have praised
with Paul and Silas in the jail
cell in the darkness of that
hour
After I’ve shredded Christ’s precious flesh
why would I take the whip to His back again
and open Him up
simply for a demonic urge
I needed to take up the sword
of the Word
battled those same devils
that mocked my Christ
so long ago,
After I’ve shredded Christ’s precious flesh
the cuts have scarred Jesus again
and I look upon the damaged tissue
an expression of fallen mankind
which knows not what it does
without the Good Shepherd
to lead him in the paths of
righteousness
and God takes the wounded
lamb upon His shoulders
After I’ve shredded Christ’s precious flesh
copyright2010misfit1965
The Great White Throne Judgment II
Standing in the sea of sinful man
Is Barrabbas, and Hitler, and Pol Pot
infamous men, who wrought infamy
on humanity
but will John Doe be there too?
pushing Stalin’s naked arms aside
still his face purple with the aneurysm
that took his life
when saints in England prayed
for his demise
and what of Pontius Pilate
his record stained for all time
and Caiphas high priest
de-frocked by God
stands there too
an insignificant worm
lower than low
bodies crashing into
bodies, like maggots
rotting maggots
unglorified and unlovely
the wretched face
sin unmasks itself
death behind it
centuries and centuries
rows and rows an endless
mass of heads,
faceless faces
nameless names
no smiles
no love
no hope
crushed skulls
grief in all its
magnitude
on that day
they all stand
guilty
blood on their hands
some murdered as many
as six million
while others not even
one
still they all stand before
an angry God
stained stained
completely stained
and defiled
for trampling the Messiah
underfoot
for scoffing at His death
for unbelief
blindness
and a love of their
own vomit
Hilter, Pol Pot,
Stalin, and could
it be the man who
was faithful 50 years
to the same woman
sat in church
worked like a slave
til he died
but never once shed
a tear of repentance
and so they all go
hand in hand
one body after
another into that
Great Lake of Fire
for not loving Jesus
copyright2010misfit1965
(image not mine)
Great White Throne Judgment
Who will be at the Great White Throne Judgment?
what manner of men will be trembling
with sin still clinging to their naked flesh?
for ALMIGHTY GOD to behold
men, women, even younger alike
standing in a human sea
no more offers of love, or hope
a White Blinding Wrath
no more shed blood
no more Cross
no angels, no seraphim
or cherubim
where have they gone?
no saints of old or new
only God and sinful men
who clung to their heresies
and perverted lusts
til their last breath was drawn
angry at God or at other men
let themselves be dragged
down to the pit
for what?
if only hope could have
opened their eyes
if only they had let themselves
feel something other than
crushing rage and hate
their eyes now seared
by the BLAZING GLORY
OF ETERNAL GOD
WHITE SHINING
RIGHTEOUSNESS
AND HOLINESS
not contained
when books are opened
none of their names
are in them
not one is found
will men and women
I knew be standing
shoulder to bare
skin to broken bone
wounds not healed
a sea of open gashes
blood still on some of them
not healed
no longer possible to be made
whole
I cannot imagine their eyes
what is left of hearts crushed
to dust
No God sends them out of His presence
to an outer darkness
there will be weeping and the gnashing of teeth
copyright2010misfit1965
(image not mine)
You are Inscribed on the Palms of His Hands
You are Inscribed on the Palms of His Hands
“Before I formed you in the womb I knew you.” (Jer1:5)
He knew your little fingers and toes
as you floated inside your mother
He had great plans for you
inside this temporary home
the safest place He thought
He smiled down from Heaven at you
when you hiccuped He sighed
He had a name for you
knew the color your hair
and eyes would be
formed the miniature bones
and began covering you with
flesh
He said it was “Good”
what happened next,
never entered into His heart
when a doctor struck
your skull,
and began tearing
the tears He shed
from His Throne
for you
His Righteous Indignation
began writing judgments
against the culprits
you shook
and trembled
your blood pouring
out of you
the woman who should
have protected you
got dressed and left
But God never forgot you
nor ever will
for you see,
“you are inscribed on the palms of his hands.”
(Isaiah49:16)
copyright2010misfit1965
(image not mine)
Cast out the unholy beings
cast out the demons!
cast them out now!
let the possessed worship God too!
cast them into the swine!
cast them into outer darkness!
cast them where the sun does not shine
but cast them out
mind chaotic, confused, filthy, frail,
and diseased
broken down doors kicked
in by the enemy
they snuck inside through cuttings
through rituals and greed,
lust opened a window right up
to darkness
vampires, werewolves, zombies
invite unholy beings
meditate on scriptures
Trust in the Lord!
when visitations from hell
come upon your bed,
when they scrape at your flesh
Cry out to the Lord!
they will infiltrate the pores
of a life not given to Jesus
Praise the Lord!
they come in through cursings
and blasphemes,
Plead the Blood of the Lord Jesus
don’t stay with the locusts
don’t stay in the closet where it’s
dark and lonely
come into the Light of the Presence of God
cast your heart as a crown to the feet of The Lamb
wear your repentence
cast out the unholy beings!
copyright2010misfit1965
(not my image)
The Rib That Never Was
i am the rib
never formed
from any man
i was expectation
heartache
afterthought
lust,
and embittered dust
i was the incarnation
bloody petals
of roses
withered
lost
ashes of tears
urn
of empty desires
did i ever think
i would grow old
with a masculine heart
filled with sawdust
and injury?
did fairytales
fuel my passions
did i believe love
to be my heritage?
i was a meandering soul,
floating
in search
of the one rib
that Golden Rib
of Adam
did it even exist
for me?
i took the bait
of fish hooks,
let my jaw
be ripped
my face
left with the scars
of stupidity
and innocence
i was goaded
into forests
where my feet
were ensnared
by animal traps
left by hunters
that wanted
my slender flesh
back then
rotting
inside the steel mouths
of ribs
Still i searched for you Rib.
that rib i thought i was entitled
marriage of Rib and Woman
i left the paths strewn with tears
and pieces of my body i cut off back
then, still i lifted my eyes to Heaven
when i looked around
siblings one by one
were matched to their
ribs
still i searched for you Rib.
Loneliness became my cruel
and jealous lover
the only Rib i ever knew
Madness
drove me to want Ribs
that weren’t mine
that belonged to other women
when i went for forbidden fruit
the serpent lifted his head
and bit my hand
it’s poison traveled
to reach my heart
the accuser
bruised my prayers
when i couldn’t lift them
in obedience
when he lied and said
there was no forgiveness
only punishment,
when he said my Father
disowned me
i believed him
he gave me more
rotten fruit
simply to take another
bite
more years passed
to break my teeth upon
i let him convince me
cruelty would become
love if i had enough faith
i felt my prayers
wrapped in flesh
bloody and broken
birthed
to be a rib this time
i was an extra rib that didn’t belong
the rib that floated to the top
of refuse
that rib buried with the corpses
of dead relationships
never to be resurrected
i tried in vain digging
the splinters
from a youth
lost in searching
and reaching
for a pile of worthless
bones
copyright2010misfit1965
(not my image)
i cling to The Hem of Your Garment
i Cling to the Hem of Your Garment
i don’t know where else to go
where else to be,
who else to be,
who else to serve?
if not You,
whose chains
will I drag,
whose bidding will I do?
i Cling to the Hem of Your Garment
grasp firmly those threads
in my bleeding palms
Oh Lord, I will not leave
Only in Your path
am I cleansed of this
festering wound
that pours forth
the pus and ooze
of my sins
i cling to the Hem of Your Garment
so the poisonous darts
of the evil one
does not pierce
this armour
on my knees,
i cling
in constant prayer
and praise
no, the demons
whose injury
has left
the scars of their fall
will not claim me
no, they shall not find
spaces between Your Heart
and mine
i cling to the Hem of Your Garment
humbly gaze at Your
Wounds to heal my wounds
i am fatally injured
without You
a corpse that goes
about the false business
of living
there is not Life
without You.
i am bathed in the tears
of Your Passion.
i Cling to the Hem of Your Garment
to follow You
wherever You may Lead
if I don’t grasp firmly those threads
the dust of my heart will bury me.
no, i must cling to the Hem of Your Garment
Lord, healing is in Your Presence
If i stray the fallen ones
speak destruction into the air
i Cling to the Hem of Your Garment
sacrifice the dung of my dreams
to Your Glory
i steadfastly cling to
that Righteous linen
that wraps You
so my skin will not disintegrate
into the ashes of a premature death
my thoughts spiral
into suicide,
my soul becomes confused
if i let go of that Holy Garment
i am lost in that crowd
of worldly people
who claim to know you.
the demons of my past
begin to accost me
with the addictions
i must cling to that Hem
as that woman of so long ago
Your healing
flows into this vessel
when i am pressed up
close enough
to hear Your Divine
Breaths
and You fill my lungs
with Heaven’s Air
when Your Holiness
rushes through Your Garment
into these filthy rags
Your Death
is my burial shroud
i proudly wear Your Grace
upon me
You Alone Are Worthy
and Your Praise
drips from my lips
as honey
“i Love You Lord Jesus”
and i shall Cling to the Hem
of Your Garments
an eternity
copyright2010misfit1965
(image not mine)
I am not
I am not smooth skin
rememberances of broken glass
blemished it
aged me prematurely
I have been barbed wire
wrapped viciously
around my arms
I have struggled with Jesus
when I should have submitted
suffered from dislocation
made wrong prayers
at the wrong time
for the wrong people
I need to give up praying for you
I am not the saint tonight
when pity stains my cheeks
begging for the altar of God
to change me
at times my throat
aches swollen from prayers
I made for you
do you hear
my hopes shred
do you see the
complication I desperately
hold onto?
sometimes forgiveness
a tender knife slits
my throat
I am not my aching
nor does my quiet desperation
want you
you were a rough wind
rushing through my life
like you intended to stay
ripped my peace mometarily
tried to shake the foundations
of my faith
but Jesus steadied
the roaring discontent
that questioned my sanity
I am not a woman
that dances on hard wood floors
though restlessness stirs
inside me
I am not my self-prophecy
I used to believe I was too much
“Life” for you
that my love had too much spice
for you to absorb
I once teased you with
brown sugar on my skin
you will never taste
my tears must be like honey
I shed them so often,
as they pass my lips
I must like the way
they interact with
my tongue
the chemisty
of heartbreak must
be right
I salsa with the destroyer
of dreams once too often
my demons are white
feigning chivarlry
pushing thorny roses
into a hungry mouth
the blood that drips
from only words
cut deep
I am only a fool
who gave the intensity
of my hopes to an empty
prayer
yes, Jesus,
I prayed
until I tasted
the rust on
my teeth
these days are a reckoning
praying for my enemies
like you
and why??
why did I open
the cleavage of my soul
why did I share
the thoughts
that belonged
only to my Lord?
misfit1965copyright2010
copyright2010misfit1965
rememberances of broken glass
blemished it
aged me prematurely
I have been barbed wire
wrapped viciously
around my arms
I have struggled with Jesus
when I should have submitted
suffered from dislocation
made wrong prayers
at the wrong time
for the wrong people
I need to give up praying for you
I am not the saint tonight
when pity stains my cheeks
begging for the altar of God
to change me
at times my throat
aches swollen from prayers
I made for you
do you hear
my hopes shred
do you see the
complication I desperately
hold onto?
sometimes forgiveness
a tender knife slits
my throat
I am not my aching
nor does my quiet desperation
want you
you were a rough wind
rushing through my life
like you intended to stay
ripped my peace mometarily
tried to shake the foundations
of my faith
but Jesus steadied
the roaring discontent
that questioned my sanity
I am not a woman
that dances on hard wood floors
though restlessness stirs
inside me
I am not my self-prophecy
I used to believe I was too much
“Life” for you
that my love had too much spice
for you to absorb
I once teased you with
brown sugar on my skin
you will never taste
my tears must be like honey
I shed them so often,
as they pass my lips
I must like the way
they interact with
my tongue
the chemisty
of heartbreak must
be right
I salsa with the destroyer
of dreams once too often
my demons are white
feigning chivarlry
pushing thorny roses
into a hungry mouth
the blood that drips
from only words
cut deep
I am only a fool
who gave the intensity
of my hopes to an empty
prayer
yes, Jesus,
I prayed
until I tasted
the rust on
my teeth
these days are a reckoning
praying for my enemies
like you
and why??
why did I open
the cleavage of my soul
why did I share
the thoughts
that belonged
only to my Lord?
misfit1965copyright2010
copyright2010misfit1965
Let me grow up in You
Let me grow up in You
let not my soul be entangled
with the jungle of the world
nor the seduction of its followers
i have often asked to be weaned
of the yellow brick road
that has led so many astray
with its glitter and gold
false treasures
send strong delusion
i tie myself to the dirt
look to poverty to ground
the arrogant tussles of heart
let me grow up in You
that food wouldn’t matter
nor having men love me
nor riches i do not have
nor man’s opinion
let not my heart
be troubled
let the Words From Thy
Mouth
matter
be the weight
of my soul
and Praise to You
be my crown
let me grow up in You
and take the dersion
for my faith
should it come
in the days ahead
if it should be
my flesh is at stake
and the choice be
made between
You and this moment
i cast myself at Thy Feet
when the sickle comes
prayer my weapon
praise be my anesthesia
*my battle cry,
Your Shed Blood
“It Is Finished!”
misfit1965copyright2010
let not my soul be entangled
with the jungle of the world
nor the seduction of its followers
i have often asked to be weaned
of the yellow brick road
that has led so many astray
with its glitter and gold
false treasures
send strong delusion
i tie myself to the dirt
look to poverty to ground
the arrogant tussles of heart
let me grow up in You
that food wouldn’t matter
nor having men love me
nor riches i do not have
nor man’s opinion
let not my heart
be troubled
let the Words From Thy
Mouth
matter
be the weight
of my soul
and Praise to You
be my crown
let me grow up in You
and take the dersion
for my faith
should it come
in the days ahead
if it should be
my flesh is at stake
and the choice be
made between
You and this moment
i cast myself at Thy Feet
when the sickle comes
prayer my weapon
praise be my anesthesia
*my battle cry,
Your Shed Blood
“It Is Finished!”
misfit1965copyright2010
Lord Heal the legacy of Auschwitz
Lord, Heal the Legacy of Auschwitz
If Your Blood had been over
those iron gates
would such evil have occured?
I see the striped pajamas of infamy
that collects spider webs
why have we tried to push
it from our consciousness?
Lord, Heal the Legacy of Auschwitz
my diverse introspections
muddies the truth
when all I want is justice
for them,
for Anne Frank,
I cling to their suffering
still,
the razors of that ignoble
fence,
forces the taste
of genocide
into our mouths
Lord, Heal the Legacy of Auschwitz,
When Your Israel,
was hunted down by
demon packs,
I am reminded
of the squeeling pigs
running over the cliff,
legion came back
to finish the job
Lord, Heal the Legacy of Auschwitz,
when satan distorts it still
denying that it happened
and fools believe him
the descendants of Abraham
and Isaac and Jacob,
the dead bones of millions
I wonder if Ezekiel saw
this vision of hell
Lord, Heal the Legacy of Auschwitz
reveal the secrets we’ve discarded
of individuals, not mass
graves, of smiles, and laughs
words they spoke,
prayers they wept
I wonder if they were
answered?
when satan created
crematoriums
to incinerate
Judah,
and remnants
of Israel,
the revenge
he planned
when they escaped
from Egypt
Lord, Heal the Legacy of Auschwitz,
it’s survivors that slipped
away from life,
I wonder how long they
saw the ghost trains?
the nightmares
they surrendered to
their fingers and hands
of vibrancy and beauty
reduced to breathing
through bars
their last freedom
dignity ripped open
as a scab on humanity
Lord, Heal the Legacy of Auschwitz,
where animals wore uniforms
and the stinch of their rule
made the air putrid,
polluting basic decency
Why didn’t more people
stand up for the Jews?
Where was the Church?
The Christians?
Were there more
goats than lambs?
Lord, Heal the Legacy of Auschwitz,
AUSCHWITZ that seems to have no voice
AUSCHWITZ that seems to have received no justice
AUSCHWITZ that appears to have no face
but ours,
can the lie be so deep?
when the devil says You Forsook Judah
But, no, there was a greater purpose
a heart of wealth in all of this
When Paul wrote that Israel
would return
the Root of David
Vengeance belongs to God
The Lion of Judah
We cannot heal the destruction
the breach of history
when the enemy sought
to rip the fabric of it
We have a Saviour
Whose Name is Jesus
He will claim the Victory
for Israel
He will fly His Banner
of Love over them
“It is He that will heal the legacy of Auschwitz.”
misfit1965copyright2010
(not my image)
Raise These Dead Bones!
Raise these dead bones!
Lift me from my grave!
while yet i live
i was born
dead
from the womb
believing the illusion
i had a true pulse
when i didn’t
in error i trusted
eyes that lied
for years
the conspiracy
of religion
deceived me
made a disciple
of me
Ezekiel prophesied
“Can these bones live!
this slain child
whose bones are shattered
“Oh Lord, you know”,
the winds of Your Spirit
will open the graves
dust that we are
How can we live
without Your Holy Spirit
to breathe realization?
misfit1965copyright2010
Lift me from my grave!
while yet i live
i was born
dead
from the womb
believing the illusion
i had a true pulse
when i didn’t
in error i trusted
eyes that lied
for years
the conspiracy
of religion
deceived me
made a disciple
of me
Ezekiel prophesied
“Can these bones live!
this slain child
whose bones are shattered
“Oh Lord, you know”,
the winds of Your Spirit
will open the graves
dust that we are
How can we live
without Your Holy Spirit
to breathe realization?
misfit1965copyright2010
Get Thee out of Babylon!
Get thee out of Babylon!
pleasures of living
materials shackle us
from head to foot
fool’s gold
of lust lays on
our flesh
to compromise
Get Thee out of Babylon!
eyes plucked out by Greed!
we are the foundation
of Laodicea,
stone by stone
we have built
contemptuous idols
wrought in the Blood
of the innocent!
what manner of Righteousness
do we wear?
Know ye not though art
wretched! miserable! poor!
blind! naked!
Get thee out of Babylon!
come to the House of the Lord
where the Doors are marked
with His Precious Blood
inside the Ark
where we live out
the Covenant of Holy God
we have fled
Get thee out of Babylon!
where mammon consumes
the strongest of virtues
umbilical cords of vice
wrap seductively around
our tender necks
until they have enslaved
Get thee out of Babylon!
servants of the Most High
run to the mountains!
leave behind your outer
garment as Joseph did
follow the saints through
the narrowest of paths
with only your faith
in The Most High
the Shed Blood of The Lamb
misfit1965copyright2010
pleasures of living
materials shackle us
from head to foot
fool’s gold
of lust lays on
our flesh
to compromise
Get Thee out of Babylon!
eyes plucked out by Greed!
we are the foundation
of Laodicea,
stone by stone
we have built
contemptuous idols
wrought in the Blood
of the innocent!
what manner of Righteousness
do we wear?
Know ye not though art
wretched! miserable! poor!
blind! naked!
Get thee out of Babylon!
come to the House of the Lord
where the Doors are marked
with His Precious Blood
inside the Ark
where we live out
the Covenant of Holy God
we have fled
Get thee out of Babylon!
where mammon consumes
the strongest of virtues
umbilical cords of vice
wrap seductively around
our tender necks
until they have enslaved
Get thee out of Babylon!
servants of the Most High
run to the mountains!
leave behind your outer
garment as Joseph did
follow the saints through
the narrowest of paths
with only your faith
in The Most High
the Shed Blood of The Lamb
misfit1965copyright2010
i wear Your skin
i wear Your skin
when i was birthed
through the womb
of Salvation
once cursed
with thirst
and hunger
bread was stale
wine distasteful
(only Your Righteousness
fills
Your Words are a cornucopia
of Wisdom)
pierce my heart!
cast it away!
replace it with
a heart of flesh
comb this head
of uneven hair
You have numbered
use this mouth to smile
on the downtrodden
form words, beautiful words
words of Justice and of truth
souls have been cast down
so long inside prisons
of despair
cast aside
by aspersions
slay my thoughts
wicked thoughts
pluck the hypocrisy
take the beam from my eyes
replace my cracked ones
take them they are rubbish!
let me peer through Your Eyes
Let me not judge as man does
i desire Love,
not earthly love sewed
in dirt, fleeting, consumed
with self,
Be my Pulse
when they cut me open
i want You poured
out from me
as Living Waters
the echoes of my soul
ring, "Jesus! Jesus!’
i Glory in Thee
only in Thee
misfit1965copyright2010
when i was birthed
through the womb
of Salvation
once cursed
with thirst
and hunger
bread was stale
wine distasteful
(only Your Righteousness
fills
Your Words are a cornucopia
of Wisdom)
pierce my heart!
cast it away!
replace it with
a heart of flesh
comb this head
of uneven hair
You have numbered
use this mouth to smile
on the downtrodden
form words, beautiful words
words of Justice and of truth
souls have been cast down
so long inside prisons
of despair
cast aside
by aspersions
slay my thoughts
wicked thoughts
pluck the hypocrisy
take the beam from my eyes
replace my cracked ones
take them they are rubbish!
let me peer through Your Eyes
Let me not judge as man does
i desire Love,
not earthly love sewed
in dirt, fleeting, consumed
with self,
Be my Pulse
when they cut me open
i want You poured
out from me
as Living Waters
the echoes of my soul
ring, "Jesus! Jesus!’
i Glory in Thee
only in Thee
misfit1965copyright2010
Hypocrisy
Take the beam out of my eye
before I take it out of yours
hypocrisy streams through
my veins too!
I beat my breast with the publican!
Have Mercy!
copyright2010misfit1965
before I take it out of yours
hypocrisy streams through
my veins too!
I beat my breast with the publican!
Have Mercy!
copyright2010misfit1965
With the Tenth Leper
With the tenth leper i give You GLORY!
With the adulterss i throw myself
in the Long Shadow of Your Mercy!
With the prodigal son i receive
Your Forgiveness
With Jacob i receive Your Blessing!
With Noah i accept the Shelter
Your Ark provides
With the 120 in the Upper Room
at Pentecost
i receive Your Holy Spirit!
copyright2010misfit1965
With the adulterss i throw myself
in the Long Shadow of Your Mercy!
With the prodigal son i receive
Your Forgiveness
With Jacob i receive Your Blessing!
With Noah i accept the Shelter
Your Ark provides
With the 120 in the Upper Room
at Pentecost
i receive Your Holy Spirit!
copyright2010misfit1965
my soul explodes in celebration!
i cannot utter,
the Joys of Jesus!
unspeakable Love!,
my soul explodes
in celebration!
copyright2010misfit1965
the Joys of Jesus!
unspeakable Love!,
my soul explodes
in celebration!
copyright2010misfit1965
Defend me O' Lord
Defend me O’ Lord !
as the vultures and ravens descend
as the creatures descend
and the wings of demons
have become inglorious
membraned and leathery
still claw the blackened skies
with deliberation and malice
i see Thundering and Lightening
bleeding rain the Judgment God has witheld
until man has reaped his harvest,
there are the blacked out suns,
with sackcloth of hair,
and the urine coloured moon
becoming blood-stained
as I stare at evil
my corneas burn,
racing pulse,
I see the demons pull
back the earth,
ascend from the Great Pit,
locust machines,
myriads of vengeful angels
are still falling
from Glory!
unable to fly back
to God
unable to take back
the torn feelings,
unable to ingest
bruising the Lord,
but pounding in the nails
harder through his human skin
now, they see Him Seated at God’s Right Hand,
Eternal, and Unchanging,
the demons are the roaches
scrambling from the Fist of God
I see them screeching bloody murder!
as their gargoyle bodies,
are on a harried mission
their time is short
and they know their mischief
must end,
and they will take down as many with them!
copyright2010misfit1965
as the vultures and ravens descend
as the creatures descend
and the wings of demons
have become inglorious
membraned and leathery
still claw the blackened skies
with deliberation and malice
i see Thundering and Lightening
bleeding rain the Judgment God has witheld
until man has reaped his harvest,
there are the blacked out suns,
with sackcloth of hair,
and the urine coloured moon
becoming blood-stained
as I stare at evil
my corneas burn,
racing pulse,
I see the demons pull
back the earth,
ascend from the Great Pit,
locust machines,
myriads of vengeful angels
are still falling
from Glory!
unable to fly back
to God
unable to take back
the torn feelings,
unable to ingest
bruising the Lord,
but pounding in the nails
harder through his human skin
now, they see Him Seated at God’s Right Hand,
Eternal, and Unchanging,
the demons are the roaches
scrambling from the Fist of God
I see them screeching bloody murder!
as their gargoyle bodies,
are on a harried mission
their time is short
and they know their mischief
must end,
and they will take down as many with them!
copyright2010misfit1965
the Apostle Paul
you stood by as Stephen
was stoned
were a slight man
with a thorn
and a limp,
unattractive by all written
accounts,
unmarried
always praising God
with slashes on your back
signature of glass underneath
sunburned flesh,
demons always bruised you
your refuge was in Christ
praying, alway praying,
in Greek, in Hebrew,
Aramaic, tongues,
even English who knows?
but the words
are recorded in heaven
nomadic Paul,
walking,
shipwrecked,
content with little
content with much,
made no difference
your Glory was Christ,
boasting in the Cross
To preach Christ crucified
and no other
was stoned
were a slight man
with a thorn
and a limp,
unattractive by all written
accounts,
unmarried
always praising God
with slashes on your back
signature of glass underneath
sunburned flesh,
demons always bruised you
your refuge was in Christ
praying, alway praying,
in Greek, in Hebrew,
Aramaic, tongues,
even English who knows?
but the words
are recorded in heaven
nomadic Paul,
walking,
shipwrecked,
content with little
content with much,
made no difference
your Glory was Christ,
boasting in the Cross
To preach Christ crucified
and no other
Bricks are not intended to be light
With a teenager you never can get it right. But with a bipolar teen, the odds are even worse. Seeing all of the other teenagers growing up, I clutch at my heart like a handkerchief one wants to bawl into. She should be going to the prom, instead, there are volancoes inside her head. Some of her cousins are already driving, but her patience is as tenuous as a spider’s web, what if it tears? When I owned a car, the accidents we almost had, when her hands reached over to scratch me. When she would take hold of the steering wheel, clutching at it, as if to kill us both. So, for now, no Lord, not having a car is a blessing. Her mouth spills out words, urgently, unnecessary words, but very necessary to her. Throwing her words at me, her conversation is one long spiraling sentence that doesn’t end, there are no periods to her speech. She talks and talks, unable to stop herself, insinuating herself into every converstation I have on the telephone, and always accusing me of interrupting. Tip toeing through the mind field of her delicate emotions that feel violated for a single word spoken out of turn. No one else would be offended, except for Emma. The paranoia that climbs over her and out of her to rebuke and claw at me. I spoke out of turn or I just wanted my conversation back.
Daily, Oh daily Lord, the incessant chatter, the eruptions of my child, who hates me, whose chemistry rages and empties me. Oh, I don’t have the strength to hear even one loud word, then a thousand thunders come at me. Don’t let me get sucked into her pain, dear Jesus. Help me remember that she is suffering, her veins course with sorrow. The friendships she lacks, while children are growing up, becoming independent. She clutches her “Dopey”, wants to be tucked into bed, as a small child. I have aged, but she hasn’t. This thorn, this thorn, I have pulled at for years, praying You would heal her. I have fallen on You, shown the thorn that at times becomes infected. Is it my greed? Is it my sin? When my teenager has a child’s heart, and a woman’s mouth. The hook has fallen on my lip, once more. Piercing my ego. My vanity. Then You take hold of me, of the bruises, I must endure. Then, I look at a slumbering face, so innocent, serene. Oh, but she needs me so, and she hangs onto my purse whenever we walk. How selfish I am, when I said, that she is a leech on my body. How cruel that was. But she throws her accusations at me for simple things for innocent words spoken out of carelessness. I spoke of a child who was duct tapped around his head at a day care I had seen on a news show. Well, I didn’t stop to think it would affect her, how this terrible thing would traumatize already fragile feelings dancing on the edges of cliffs. But we have carried on since she was a child at my ankles with a bottle in her hand. Her ragged emotions tore at me, we crashed as waves, but not as softly. Dear God, forgive me, when I feel what a burden! When her cries are the deep moans of a soul who straggles between life and death. I only think of myself, when she takes the dagger of her words to stab at me, “moron”, “stupid.” “idiot” and other words join in the diatribe. But, she is the child from my body, that I have loved through all of the hurricanes, and storms. The one You blessed me with. But, sometimes I can barely tolerate her. The anger that is slung at me. Quiet her dear Father. The child I give to you nightly, in the hours that make no sense, the quiet hours, when the world is a tomb. Scratching the floor, the pain confounds me, her deep suffering confounds me. Is this child ever going to marry? Have a family of her own? Her heart is a time bomb ticking away, ticking until it grows too loud for her to ignore. She feels safe with me, I should be the soft place for her. Even if her body is heavy as bricks. Bricks are not intended to be light, I must let You lift me out of the brick pile, pick up the ashes of my tears. How impolite i have become Lord. To not let the bricks fall upon me, how indelicate i have become when i take the bricks to throw back at her. Forgive me.
Daily, Oh daily Lord, the incessant chatter, the eruptions of my child, who hates me, whose chemistry rages and empties me. Oh, I don’t have the strength to hear even one loud word, then a thousand thunders come at me. Don’t let me get sucked into her pain, dear Jesus. Help me remember that she is suffering, her veins course with sorrow. The friendships she lacks, while children are growing up, becoming independent. She clutches her “Dopey”, wants to be tucked into bed, as a small child. I have aged, but she hasn’t. This thorn, this thorn, I have pulled at for years, praying You would heal her. I have fallen on You, shown the thorn that at times becomes infected. Is it my greed? Is it my sin? When my teenager has a child’s heart, and a woman’s mouth. The hook has fallen on my lip, once more. Piercing my ego. My vanity. Then You take hold of me, of the bruises, I must endure. Then, I look at a slumbering face, so innocent, serene. Oh, but she needs me so, and she hangs onto my purse whenever we walk. How selfish I am, when I said, that she is a leech on my body. How cruel that was. But she throws her accusations at me for simple things for innocent words spoken out of carelessness. I spoke of a child who was duct tapped around his head at a day care I had seen on a news show. Well, I didn’t stop to think it would affect her, how this terrible thing would traumatize already fragile feelings dancing on the edges of cliffs. But we have carried on since she was a child at my ankles with a bottle in her hand. Her ragged emotions tore at me, we crashed as waves, but not as softly. Dear God, forgive me, when I feel what a burden! When her cries are the deep moans of a soul who straggles between life and death. I only think of myself, when she takes the dagger of her words to stab at me, “moron”, “stupid.” “idiot” and other words join in the diatribe. But, she is the child from my body, that I have loved through all of the hurricanes, and storms. The one You blessed me with. But, sometimes I can barely tolerate her. The anger that is slung at me. Quiet her dear Father. The child I give to you nightly, in the hours that make no sense, the quiet hours, when the world is a tomb. Scratching the floor, the pain confounds me, her deep suffering confounds me. Is this child ever going to marry? Have a family of her own? Her heart is a time bomb ticking away, ticking until it grows too loud for her to ignore. She feels safe with me, I should be the soft place for her. Even if her body is heavy as bricks. Bricks are not intended to be light, I must let You lift me out of the brick pile, pick up the ashes of my tears. How impolite i have become Lord. To not let the bricks fall upon me, how indelicate i have become when i take the bricks to throw back at her. Forgive me.
demonic attack on The Fourth of July
I should have known something was happening. This battle, the spiritual battle never ends. The demons always look for ways in. I must be vigilant in prayer always, and when I am not, they slip in. For I have declared my home, “A House of Prayer and Praise.” Openly I declared war. The Battle is The Lord’s not mine, but we are casualties, when defenses are down, when my prayers are not as fervent, they are waiting to destroy us. Who is first in this line of defense, the most vulnerable, my daughter.
Earlier she smashed a glass bulb, and stuck it in her arm, and called out to me, with blood dripping from wounds to her arms and legs. Still she had a piece of glass sticking out of her forearm. I pulled it out cautiously. It didn’t bleed as much as I had thought it would. But there she stood, smashed glass all around, and blood oozing out of the wounds she had created.
There was no reason for her self-inflicted injuries. None that I could think of. She was upset about her netflex channel not working on the blu-ray machine her grandmother bought for her yesterday. But there was no logical reason for the cutting. Except to write I haven’t been praying or praising as much as I should. We are targets. We who have named The Name of Jesus Christ. He is written on our hearts, in the indelible blood of His Sacrifice on The Cross.
Our Lord would not leave us unprotected, it is we who have strayed away from Him. When the sheep are wandering, the enemies with a fury and with a rage will harass the children of God. Therefore, we must constantly be vigilant, put on all of our armor always. Abide with Our Lord always in thought and emotion. When I don’t abide, when prayers have not been made, demons slip under the wire, because they have asked for me.
For years, they have asked permission. This is why I must abide closer than most believers. Since, they cannot always get to me, they get to me through my child.
Our enemies will get to us anyway they can, they will use anyone to hurt us. Their ultimate goal is to destroy our testimonies.
My child is in the hospital tonight with lacerations. I am most concerned about the glass that could be inside her arm. Doctors will have it x-rayed.
It isn’t the 51/50 that bothers me, as she has been put on 51/50’s before. It is the relentless obsession that the enemy has against us. It is the knowledge that they exist to destroy us. They live to steal, kill and destroy the children of God.
The battle is real. The threat is serious. They do not care who the casualties are. The more casualties the better. The younger the casualty in their estimation all the more glorious.
This is why we must continually abide with Our Lord Jesus. The abiding is the deep intimacy that believers need to overcome the troubles of the world, and the attacks of demons, as they are everywhere, relentless, they neither sleep nor eat, but are out there ready to hurt the children of Our Father.
Yes, we are saved by Grace. Grace is a Gift from The Father. But we must choose to abide with Our Lord Jesus. Not abiding, prayerlessness, not being in The Word daily, lack of worship and praise will leave breaches in the defensive line. Yes, Jesus will cover us always, but we must choose to run to Him, to take Him as our Refuge. There can be no time when we are left vulnerable. Nothing is impossible with Our Lord, but if we pull away from Him, even unintentionally, with the cares of this world, busyness, then there are enemies waiting all around to devour us. Remember what the Apostle Peter wrote,
“Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil walks around like a roaring lion seeking whom he may devour.”
(1Peter 5:8)
Earlier she smashed a glass bulb, and stuck it in her arm, and called out to me, with blood dripping from wounds to her arms and legs. Still she had a piece of glass sticking out of her forearm. I pulled it out cautiously. It didn’t bleed as much as I had thought it would. But there she stood, smashed glass all around, and blood oozing out of the wounds she had created.
There was no reason for her self-inflicted injuries. None that I could think of. She was upset about her netflex channel not working on the blu-ray machine her grandmother bought for her yesterday. But there was no logical reason for the cutting. Except to write I haven’t been praying or praising as much as I should. We are targets. We who have named The Name of Jesus Christ. He is written on our hearts, in the indelible blood of His Sacrifice on The Cross.
Our Lord would not leave us unprotected, it is we who have strayed away from Him. When the sheep are wandering, the enemies with a fury and with a rage will harass the children of God. Therefore, we must constantly be vigilant, put on all of our armor always. Abide with Our Lord always in thought and emotion. When I don’t abide, when prayers have not been made, demons slip under the wire, because they have asked for me.
For years, they have asked permission. This is why I must abide closer than most believers. Since, they cannot always get to me, they get to me through my child.
Our enemies will get to us anyway they can, they will use anyone to hurt us. Their ultimate goal is to destroy our testimonies.
My child is in the hospital tonight with lacerations. I am most concerned about the glass that could be inside her arm. Doctors will have it x-rayed.
It isn’t the 51/50 that bothers me, as she has been put on 51/50’s before. It is the relentless obsession that the enemy has against us. It is the knowledge that they exist to destroy us. They live to steal, kill and destroy the children of God.
The battle is real. The threat is serious. They do not care who the casualties are. The more casualties the better. The younger the casualty in their estimation all the more glorious.
This is why we must continually abide with Our Lord Jesus. The abiding is the deep intimacy that believers need to overcome the troubles of the world, and the attacks of demons, as they are everywhere, relentless, they neither sleep nor eat, but are out there ready to hurt the children of Our Father.
Yes, we are saved by Grace. Grace is a Gift from The Father. But we must choose to abide with Our Lord Jesus. Not abiding, prayerlessness, not being in The Word daily, lack of worship and praise will leave breaches in the defensive line. Yes, Jesus will cover us always, but we must choose to run to Him, to take Him as our Refuge. There can be no time when we are left vulnerable. Nothing is impossible with Our Lord, but if we pull away from Him, even unintentionally, with the cares of this world, busyness, then there are enemies waiting all around to devour us. Remember what the Apostle Peter wrote,
“Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil walks around like a roaring lion seeking whom he may devour.”
(1Peter 5:8)
I didn't know: The Truth About Cutting
“Then you call on the name of your gods and I will call on the name of The Lord; and The God who answers by fire. He is God,” So all the people answered and said,“It is well spoken.”
Now Elijah said to the prophets of Baal,“Choose one bull for yourselves and prepare it first, for you are many; and call on the name of your god, but put no fire under it.”
So they took the bull which was given them, and they prepared it, and called on the name of Baal from morning even till noon, saying,
“Oh Baal, hear us!” But there was no voice, no one answered. Then they leaped about the altar which they had made.
And so it was, at noon, that Elijah mocked them and said, "Cry aloud, for he is a god; either he is meditating, or he is busy, or he is on a journey, or perhaps he is sleeping and must be awakened.
So they cried aloud, and cut themselves, as was their custom, with knives and lances, until the blood gushed out on them.
(1Kings 18:24-28)
I didn’t know years ago when I took the first razor to my arm at 17 that doors were being opened to ancient evils. When you are in pain, and the anguish is too great to bear, you don’t care what you are doing, or the consequences of what you are doing. The thought is, “it’s my body, i’m not hurting anyone but myself.” For years this is what I thought. I didn’t know why the grief inside me was so intense. How could I have known that the heaviness I carried came from outside of me. After my parent’s divorce, was a shell, a young woman, more of a girl, who was not prepared for the world, or men, or any of the responsibilities I was supposed to know to do. I didn’t care about learning how to drive, it didn’t interest me. My whole heart was driven to cutting. How I even thought to cut, I can’t even remember. Just that there was an agony, dying, and cutting was the voice that was the expression of what was felt then.
I didn’t know, that cutting had been a ritualistic thing. A thing that was done in demonic cults. It was ancient in the bible, the baal worshipers cut themselves with lances to get the attention of their "false"’ gods, we know now to be demons.
When I was cutting myself, and the red tears were draining from me, I didn’t know then that spirits, were gathering all around me. When you are sobbing, who stops to think you are really a beacon for something. All I knew then was that I didn’t care about living, but if I had to live, it would be on my own selfish terms. If I had to stay, “mother”, my flesh was going to be tattered, bloodied, ripped, shredded, bandaged, bleeding, but “mother” I will give you the dignity, of not having to see it.
Back then I wore long sleeves, even in the summer, to cover up the wreckage, the slashes, the marks, the healing scars. How did I now that I was doing something so “wicked”. No one ever told me not to cut myself, I guess people just assume that you would never hurt yourself or want or desire pain. But, there are those that want exactly that, alot of pain. I will tell you why, to distract from the real suffering inside, where a heart is being crushed, grinded, disintegrated into nothing. That was the condition of my heart back then. Grinded to nothing, and I had to get away from myself, from the nothingness, the constant groaning of a soul in mourning. “Cutters” are like the walking dead. I can write this, because I used to be one of the “zombie children”. Jesus Christ raised me literally from the dead as He raised Lazarus 2, 000 years ago.
As I wrote, doors, demonic doors were being opened all around me. I wrote such strange poems back then. I was influenced, my pen was possessed, and not mine at all. They tormented, tortured, did everything to me back then, but possess me. That God would not allow. But, I would go to the bathroom and cut, just make so many cuts across my arms and legs. Many required stitches they never got. I plugged up the holes myself. I felt the wounds, were “medals”. I thought I was stronger than everyone else for being able to take such pain. For opening my own flesh, I was no coward.
Even though I didn’t know. Ignorance is no excuse. The demons were attracted to the cuttings. They must have felt summoned, as I suppose was the ritual. I am writing this to warn, that cutting is very dangerous. For the obvious reasons, of staph infections, and general infections. There is a world that is opened when you deliberately open your own flesh, a cry that goes out to another dimension. Like shark bait, you are vulnerable, bloodied, and circled by literal sharks when you do this. The demonic world is circling the young men and women, and children who cut themselves. They are being pulled into cults, of vampires, gothic cults, and a world that is so evil, they have no idea. Only by The Grace and Mercy of God, Himself, that I was not sucked into a cult. The scars are predominant of satanic worshipers.
I spent many years an open target. Only God, The Mercy and Lovingkindness of Jesus Christ, protected me from being possessed. But, I must write I was harassed over the years by demons. Not always, but they are intrusive because they were invited, whether out of ignorance or deliberate intention. The Holy Spirit has asked me to write this. This morning in a conversation with my mother at Taco Bell, The Holy Spirit began to explain how “cutting” is an ancient evil, and invites demonic beings into lives.
I didn’t know. But it didn’t excuse me. I was not pardoned, overlooked, or unscathed because I didn’t know. Ignorance of the law does not save you from the consequences of breaking the law. There are laws and principles, and cutting the body is an unnatural and unholy thing to do. Many young people today, cut themselves, there is this fascination with vampires and zombies. Cutting is a different kind of a sin, different from drinking and abusing alcohol, and different from lying, or from fornicating. This sin invites “demons”. This particular sin, for lack of a better word seems to summon them.
May Our Lord Jesus Christ give us discernment and wisdom. I pray that young people will understand that “cutting” is a very serious breach between our world and the spiritual.
Run to the Refuge of The Person of Jesus Christ.
"Father, Heavenly Father, i lift up the children who cut themselves, out of depression, out of hopelessness, out of deep deep despair. I know Lord, i used to be there. You know Father, everything is possible. You can take the scars that abandonment, loneliness, shame, rage, anger, bitterness, numb cold emotions, white and black feelings, screaming, emptiness, all these the enemy brings to destroy these beautiful children, You have created for Your Glory, to be in relationship with You. Bring these children, gather them around Your Feet, seat them dear One, at Your table, when all they have known is rejection and heartache. I give them to You Lord. You are The Answer their hearts and souls have searched through the razors and the knives. Therapy is not the answer, hurting themselves is not the answer, You who created them in their mother's wombs, You are the Answer, The Hope, The Love, The Mercy these children, these young people, these cutters, all have searched for. i lift them up to You now Lord, each and every cutter, old and young alike, i give to You, Lord Jesus, for Healing and Compassion and Your Lovekindness. Not for judgment, nor condemnation, these have known those negative thoughts and feelings all their lives. No, You Lord, will end their suffering. You paid for their wounds on The Cross of Glory! You settled it in Heaven, when You took the shame, the suffering, the wounds, the humiliation, The Blood, The Shed Blood is their Atonement, and their covering. I speak, I pray against the deception, the lie, the murder, the suffering, the enemy has imposed upon them, Release them, now, enemy IN THE NAME OF JESUS CHRIST! Release them, they do not belong to you! You have been defeated, and you breathe lies and deceit wherever you go! The Victory is Yours Lord Jesus! You have come to set the captives free! And Whom The Lord has set free is free indeed!
IN THE PRECIOUS NAME OF JESUS CHRIST!
AMEN!
Come to Him. Now. HE LOVES YOU!
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