MoonLight

Moonlight strangeness

I'm strange and stranger than none...I feel uninvited in the world in which I tread, yet all are invited to seek my strangeness,

when ever this moonlight is absent I cannot inspire even the night becomes too silent and creation is in the same low spirit,

But when it’s full or not being obscured this light is the gift that compliments such a vast array of phenomenal physics that I could not embrace,

Sometimes it is only half full and my anticipation grows and grows, like that of a mighty river raging for her to fully mature,

The flower beds rejoice at her sight as they have early blossoming from her blessed mist, and in the morning feel refreshed and invigorated,

The prairies, mountain tops, hills, valleys, the oceans, the young calf, the prancing colt, the wing creatures, that nest happily in their resting place,

The gentle fresh air, that makes the open night such pleasant a moonlight, She is the light that shines and shines causing so much commotion, yet innocent partaker in all her actions.

Moonlight the kaleidoscope of extraordinary events, keeps her radiant and focus,

The ever burning spotlight that pierce my soul, nothing like her in splendor, nothing like her in absence.

When I step into the night from my cradle there is this bright light a celestial body that never seems to leave me, It follows everywhere I tread illuminating my pathway, and when it’s full it resembles a lamp someone set up with purpose,

The creatures of the night howl, cry, and sing...their interpretations are all unique, this goes on throughout this nocturnal cycle of intrigue and charm just to repeat once again,

The flying visitors die trying to reach her magnificent splendor, and that is the beauty of it all, the Grand builder had it all well within reach for us to write and respect, fall to our knees and praise….and praise.

(C) Right Protected 2007 

By: Raphael G

Dream Weaver

 

Dream weaver

Like a voyage of long ago,

A time long awaited, where the inspiration rejuvenates an inspirator of dreams,

there aren't rehearsed dreams better than agitated currents,

nothing prepares an inspirator for events so impacting like these...only that emotions and innate feelings incorporate to weave complex feelings that exhaust the soul already in surrender.

Again I find myself embracing for the shock of my life...like it was yesterday.

I reason like a innocent young lad in my search for truth, harmony, feelings, principles, and virtues...Oh Lord save me' help me' give strength...understanding in this world of dreams that never seem to seize pouring my way...I'm not dignified of the leveled thinking.

If poetry is letters of second hand, why do I find myself hindered in what is revealed before me? If poetry is letters of second hand' why do I summons a supreme being? Like this was a debate between me and the creator! My reinforcement is to continue revealing the fundamental things of the heart and pursue the current correctness in guiding the senses.

Never doubt what I write...from the most profound things of the heart inspired reasoning ushers forth what the dream weaver feels in his inspired search.

There can be no falsehood in revealing...more likely it is the initial stage to convocate dialogue, where there is invocation souls come together like poetry and the letters to promote communication in the field of thinking. Poetry and its power for sure have gained its rewarding crown for time to come.

She weaves my broken dreams,

she's soft like the morning mist,

she has these beautiful blues...one is the vast oceans...the other a bright sky in a touching spring break,

she's a master work of whom the thinkers of modern and ancient times debate if she is true or not,

she's an electrifying maiden, no need for dynamic energy to assemble my thoughts,

She would be a great lament if lost and the Divine beings would lament her for an eternity.

What would become of me if she was bones of my bones and fresh of my fresh? I care for her like the hen care for their kind.

I would be enchanted with her like a toddler and toy of interest,

she would be my toy in my eternal toddling.

What can a poor gentile man do for a maiden such touching? If life is all I possess ...than my sacrifice is not in vain!

She's hope for a fallen people and they anticipate in her revealing treasures, O' grandiose king of eternity woe' to me if this was letter of second hand, you are my guide...My fort and my call...you my Judge' that the reality is the sacred expression.

O' my Lord equip me for the outstanding of this dream, you well know my tragedy...I'm innocent in this dream that I can't construct, prepare my path according to the events of worth and surprises in which I must embrace, I ask no more...otherwise that the sacred expression returns fortified in a world of abnegation and absences.

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By: Raphael G

 06/15-23/07

Amish Shack

                                        The Amish Shack

They the raving blues that never seem too tire out always on a move like Nomadic caravans from the slightest sound or encompassing position, like a satellite hovering and dancing from above it intrigues and fascinate the observer. The piercing blues that cause so much commotion and excitement in my soul, sending it into bliss of mind bending thoughts. Like a foundries heat that consumes my inquisitive yearnings that contest debate, promoting sanity in an ever winding circular motion of complex undertaking.

Like a dungeon they imprison me as they go about its taxing ways, innocently partaker of the observer; oblivion host. In a world of sadness blue is not so blue after all, the oceans, the vaulted sky, the covenant arc, blue is eternal as promise from above. Two blue pearls in its sockets that reveal enigmas and provide a multitude of reasoning.

Enlighten me, charm me, lead my soul captive in want. I make oath with almighty Yahweh, to never remove me from your sight, keeping me writing and sleepless day and night. Drain my energy, my life’s resources! I feel the sense and meaning of true giving around you. Let heavens be weighted down on our behalf and its host rejoice one more time. If it’s a sin to let go from the abundance of the heart, than I boast as one of them all. I chase the heart as a child would after the passing of a butterfly, as it explores the new world of curiosities laughing and smiling with-out contempt lighting up the biggest fires racing out of control in a givers want.

The poet in quest to decipher meaning and revelations, the ultimate opportunity to engage in a ritual so ancient and yet all embracing. Like an outcast in all his approach, like mission all too impossible… he makes good medicine of what is placed before him. A road tread once too often he walks away with his head bow ever vigilant of what’s next in his quest to reveal.

The enigmatic blues and beautiful of them all, the one subject unique of them all. The shack I frequent to quell my thirst and hunger, the honoree of my life esteems tossed oblivion host. The inspirations never seem to vanish yet I have matured riddled; only if I could remain youthful forever to chase the uncatchable, to race against the wind one more time, to exhaust not like a wolverine relentless in his search, his pursuit. Oh almighty God be the blue eyes in the world in which I seek encouragement, and we shall write many good words together.

I write for you Oh mighty one at all times, when I contemplate beauty of all sort not far away I’m writing about your infinite designs, the everlasting perfect bond of love… imprinted in us humans. She is beautiful like Eden’ indeed and many jubilating souls praise her for the woman she has become. A thousand spring seasons may linger in paradise, but as for me you will be my favorite under God Almighty's watchful eyes; as I serene you and him with expressions of endearment.

I have made you my daily prayer and in these last days I’m not sure about my call, but certainly I have faith that in paradise God almighty; will afford me an link pen where my thoughts race once again after you. Just too unsettled my soul their twins, who is worthy? Of this inspiration only those beautiful blues can tell. Admirable and skilled parents worthy of tribute and off-springs that shower like a cascading powerful crag of waterfalls keep pushing my threshold… I seek an audience with you once again because my spirit is always at lost.

10/2010/01/2011 By: Raphael G

(C) Right protected

Martyr/Party Of YHWH

                  or Lance Collins

All one needs to know about Johnny Todd

 The English word “martyr” is derived from the Greek term mar′tys, meaning “witness”—that is, one who observes a deed or event. But the Greek word means more than that. The Biblical mar′tys is also “active,” states one Greek lexicon, “called upon to tell what he has seen and heard, to proclaim what he knows.” All true Christians, and all faith of good will, have the obligation to bear witness to what they know about Jehovah/God Almighty (YHWH) and his purposes. (Luke 24:48; Acts 1:8) The Scriptures call Stephen a “witness” for speaking about Jesus.—Acts 22:20,

 Christian witnessing often means facing opposition, arrest, beatings, and even death. Thus, from as early as the second century C.E., “martyr” also came to signify one who suffers such consequences rather than renounce his faith. It is in this sense that Stephen may be called the first Christian martyr. Originally, though, a person was considered a “martyr” because he witnessed, not because he died. Well either way is acceptable and the later of much more weightier  matter since the giver and taker has full authority over the subject.

“At hearing these things they felt cut to their hearts and began to gnash their teeth at him.”—Acts 7:54  Yes the powers to be would prefer one remains silent and not expand on the erosive and corruptible work undermining our human existence. They prefer one not learn and come to a full knowledge or contemptible breaching of the hidden hand. A diligent researcher can be counter-productive and balance to the ever menacing architect "of the great question?" pertaining to the Universal challenge, imposed by hot seat dictators or counterfeiters that have been at work from long ago.

Monument to Witness Holocaust Survivor Unveiled in Germany

 Museum and monument open to the public.
 

Gamaliel, “a Law teacher esteemed by all the people, made his case....

  “Do not meddle with these men, but let them alone; (because.. if this scheme or this work is from men, it will be overthrown; but if it is from God, you will not be able to overthrow them;) otherwise, you may perhaps be found fighters actually against God.” (Acts 5:38, 39)

Remember these words in acts they serve as a witness that the Almighty is at work, and certainly backing all believers in the struggles. Undaunted, they continued “every day in the temple and from house to house” the work of “declaring the good news about the Christ.”* (Acts 5:42) The demons also shake and tremble at the sight of Godly people and before they arrive they take to flee, closing doors... shouting and indiscriminately feeling a sense of withdraw.(James 2:19 "You believe that there is one God, do you? You are doing quite well. And yet the demons believe and shudder." 

The arch enemy is well aware of the power of Jesus Christ...
“Did you come to destroy us?” (Mark 1:24)they are our enemies, so make it your own too shun them from every wrong activity it may try lead one into. There are also many accounts when they acknowledge the Messiah, identifying him before on-looker's. What was the response...(Mark 5:7...10) " 7 Then he cried out with a loud voice: “What have I to do with you, Jesus, Son of the Most High God? I put you under oath by God not to torment me.” 8 For Jesus had been saying to it: “Come out of the man, you unclean spirit.” 9 But Jesus asked him: “What is your name?” And he replied: “My name is Legion, because there are many of us.” 10 And he kept pleading with Jesus not to send the spirits out of the country...

Luke 8:31

31 And they kept pleading with him not to order them to go away into the abyss. 

                                                                 John Huss

An Italian clergyman pronounced the sentence of condemnation for Huss. Even at that time, he said that he would only be convinced once he has been given proof from Holy Scriptures. As a result, he was enrobed in priestly vestments and asked to recant. Still, he refused. At this, all his ornaments were taken and his priestly tonsure was destroyed. Huss was deprived of all rights and was delivered to the secular powers. A high paper hat, with the word 'Haeresiarcha' inscribed on it, was placed on his head and he was taken away by armed men.

At the execution ground, Huss spread his hands and prayed aloud. After undressing him, the executioners tied his hands behind his back with ropes. His neck was tied, with a chain, to a stake around which wood and straw had been piled up, in such a way that it covered him up to the neck. Count Palatine asked Huss for the last time whether he wanted to recant and save his life or die. Huss preferred to die and was thus, burnt to death.

                                                     John Huss Documentary
 
So with this comforting news and witnessing work we take heed to remain ever vigilant, light bearer's until the final call. There is a large list of people of faith whom gave their life, so that other could live. Martyr's of first and second century down to our present day, awaiting trials in prison in communist countries and repressive dictator’s.

 

"Let it not make thee despair, neither yet discourage thee, O reader, that it is forbidden thee in pain of life and goods, or that it is made breaking of the king's peace, or treason unto his highness, to read the Word of thy soul's health—for if God be on our side, what matter maketh it who be against us, be they bishops, cardinals, popes."

William Tyndale could speak seven languages and was proficient in ancient Hebrew and Greek. He was a priest whose intellectual gifts and disciplined life could have taken him a long way in the church—had he not had one compulsion: to teach English men and women the good news of justification by faith.

Tyndale had discovered this doctrine when he read Erasmus's Greek edition of the New Testament. What better way to share this message with his countrymen than to put an English version of the New Testament into their hands? This, in fact, became Tyndale's life passion, aptly summed up in the words of his mentor, Erasmus: "Christ desires his mysteries to be published abroad as widely as possible. I would that [the Gospels and the epistles of Paul] were translated into all languages, of all Christian people, and that they might be read and known."

Also many reforms carried their works in the likes of John Wycliff, thou there was already revisionist as early as the 1200's in France and Spain...a group of scholars and followers known as the https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lollards they sworn to continue were he left off.

God's outlaw/documentary

I don't infringe on any copy right or intellectual property...on the same basis I expect the same, but the question never occurs to me. I to cut and paste...and can't call it my own. labored property would be usurping if a taken without consent. So rest free I have no interest in personal gains only that which is by inheritance.

Admirer's reproach

                                                     

                                                                                                    
                                                                           Admirer’s Reproach

Why did you leave the window open?
 

Were you expecting a stranger in the night?
 

Every day I sit by the front door way, you past by like I wasn't there;
 

Yet your fragrances are fresh like morning dew I know better.
 

Your never lonely in your house angels guard your safe keeping.
 

Go ahead ask me where I have been? I tell you things just keep happening,
 

I must speak of what I have abandon, the vaulted sky the earth below, shadows tossed, and the land of broken dreams.

If I could find comfort for just a while it would be in the corner stairways;
 

Leading to my admirer’s reproach! Like autumn’s foliage that chariots to their winter bed,
 

Where is my resting place for today? Like dust driven away my soul finds no refuge…I have become tired, exhausted in my quest to reveal the sacred spiral, who is worthy in my madness?
 

Lead me captive in the sorrows of my beloved strange host where the sun rises from the Far East touching my deeps wounds. 

The many whom my strangeness admired, but stranger than none; here to abide with it in my strange loved. I lay me down until my next resurrection in the near coming spring the day of my birth many years ago when my father woven me in the secret place, not troubling where I sweetly slept.”

BY: Raphael G

(C) Right

New Jerusalem

New Jerusalem

O’ New Jerusalem, land of the brave and spirited warriors,

O’ New Jerusalem, land of majestic mountains and sweet waters,

Yes you O’ Zion, the coveted work of art whose tormentor is blinded by your beauty and

Magnificence. (Evil doers know not)
The meadows have dressed you with the foliage that wing creatures can only dream of, in your battlefield hope is heard from its foreign visitors, they cry out in jubilee, sing well orchestrated chorus, their tunes are enchantment to the ears of the natives.

Creation spoke in riddles when you came forth, the almighty God stretched his right hand in blessings; you were the master’s achievements, He labored in pain with your up bringing,

O’ Zion, your spirit can not be broken and the enemies in the battlefield shake in fear because there is warmth in the fluid that sustains life. There is love and unity in what remains, that to be adequate because abundance is not necessary the advantage.

O’ Zion, the world see little of you and tongues and mad people of the world have distorted views of a land, which is creation, humans like all other and in many ways more prone to reason than all others,

The promise land is in your midst, paradise belongs to he who struggles for the good cause of its people, O’ Zion, I will see you in paradise or die trying.

Paradise does not belong to the faithless, who stoned the prophets, whose blessings God revoked,

O’ Zion, hold strong and roll well because blessings are sure in God almighty.

O’ Zion, land of the spiritual warriors of the mountains how many men wish to serve you! and how many have missed! Yet the struggle continues and I see the faces of many who took the call, their faces smiling with graceful humbleness, their memories like a mighty wave that gets stronger as it picks up time.

O’ Zion, motherland that shelters its off springs in the bosom of caves, peaks, valleys and evergreens, from the oppressor and destroyer…..awake...awake and consume them in your wrath and fire.
 

O’ Zion, if only God had error (in choosing a new people and He did not!) why did He not look any further in the pains of labour, the land of Faithful warriors? (Moreover He, has)…God almighty bless the fields of the new covenant and the Great Spirit be the driving force in all its actions. The mountain can move, the waters can divided, the underground can call it’s spoils, the days can darken and nights illuminate like the brightest stars, but Zion will stand and remain as God's almighty spirit visitant the everlasting faith based stronghold.

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Raphael G  4/6/07