Archive for sacred

Fisher Of Mentality

Posted in poetry with tags , , , , , , on May 15, 2009 by Uncle Tree

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This is my honest confession

of a down-to-earth possession

that lasted only a minute

yet there be magic within it

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No way do the odds favor chance

when The Fates oblige you to dance

My eyes beheld no illusion

These ears did hear this intrusion

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No physical laws were broken

The lyrics were thought, not spoken

With intent, a line had been crossed

as the chaotic cards were tossed

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Since I alone was the witness

you’ll question my mental fitness

There is no faith without a doubt

a leap is what this was about

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I was on this sacred mission

to reel in the truth from fiction

Hook me a book, my wish, my creed

bobbing for answers filled a need

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How I love the freedom to choose

fishing through novels, win or lose

I let my interest be my guide

a seeker’s quest dives deep inside

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I can but hope the choice is mine

and not determined by some divine

thought that’s been implanted in me

from someone who I’ll never see

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The book was caught, netted with care

No real surprise, nor lack of air

Checked it out, no hassle, made haste

Friday traffic, no time to waste

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Strolled to my car, got in, sat down

Started the engine, cranked the sound

The station was playing a song

A classic tune to move along

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I’d never heard this one before

was not acquainted with the score

It was peculiar for the tone

that’s not what struck me to the bone

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It ended in a normal way

announcing ‘all requests’ today

and this last song that he did play

was meant for Patti, in Crete. Eh?

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No real big deal, I don’t know her

Was she the seed or The Sower?

A stranger played a part in this

who I will never meet, nor miss

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The Deejay then caught me off-guard

He flung the title, jerked me hard

The name of the book and the song were the same!

‘Twas music for “The Glass Bead Game”

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The hair on my arms stood on end

Clued into what’s around the bend

my voice took over there and then

giggling with the biggest grin

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I comprehended Diddley Squat

Banished from the realm of thought

So stupefied, I let it slide

Slippery fish, I seek. They hide!

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Saturday’s Mourning In Glory

Posted in Christianity, poetry with tags , , , , , , , on April 10, 2009 by Uncle Tree

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Entombed in the thickest of forests He lay,

donning a shroud of cool, deadened leaves.

Limbs that once held the glorious weight of the world

lie scattered about the sacred grounds.

Branches that once shouldered the burden of the blame

had broken from the main, and still the vines held fast.

Everything for which He stood — a scheme inside a dream

His crowning achievement — a sacrificial theme

‘Twas all laid to rest beside the petrifying flesh of his ancestors.

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Many a number of trees in these woods had been borne of his seed.

Year after year, they continued to fill the avoided spaces with new life.

Surrounding Him now, one by one,

they began to pay homage to His grandeur.

The critters nearby crept forth in a slow procession,

whilst the raven kept his quiet,

keeping a keen eye on the softly landing white doves.

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‘Twas the perfect mourning for the painful,

exacting moments to spring forth and reclaim their royal birthrights.

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A Leprechaun’s Gaze, Part 2

Posted in Entertainment, poetry with tags , , , , on March 7, 2009 by Uncle Tree

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He bade me, “Come! You need a rest!”

He drew his flask, “Please, be my guest!”

My guard withdrawn, my throat gone dry

My pity for the man ran high

Read more »

A Leprechaun’s Gaze, Part 1

Posted in Entertainment, poetry with tags , , , , , on March 4, 2009 by Uncle Tree

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Loose ends were tied, the message sent

As I walked on in merriment

With ruddy arms I build a cairn

That lies a ways past yonder barn

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One piece of gold I have in tow

My back faced to the winds that blow

This growing monumental mound

Will hide my grief on sacred ground

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A daily prayer, a daily grind

A rock a day to ease my mind

To reach the sky! To find my love!

To live the dream I’m dreaming of

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The brook once reached beyond these hills

Her streams left banks for bigger thrills

A few returned to pay their dues

Whose lovely stones I can’t refuse

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To my surprise, when I arrived

This little man did sit beside

The running water, clear and sweet

Biding his time, soaking his feet

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His clothes were rent, his hair unkept

His gaze locked in the days lament

The solitary of the fool

Twas felt on my side of the pool

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Raising his head, he looked my way

Nodding at me, as if to say,

“No thing to fear, no thing to hide.”

I crossed on over to his side

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Sacred Taboos

Posted in Philosophy, Science with tags , , , , on March 1, 2009 by Uncle Tree

When you break one, you become one.

“Don’t touch that!” Whatever it may be. “Don’t even think about it!”

What about the healing touch of a Saint?

Are not they allowed to touch The Untouchables?

“You’ll get germs!” By the way my mother yelled about it,

one was to assume there was pretty much germs on

everything – everywhere – all the time!

Even in the bathtub lay the hidden taboos. “Don’t play with that!”

To do so was considered dirty, and therefore,

I figured, it must clean itself.

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Inhibitions and restrictions vary from place to place.

What was so great about Rome?

Would you do as the Romans did, if you happened

to find yourself in a Grecian state of mind?

It sounds fairly dangerous to me, weighing the risks involved.

Then again…Mother owns the scales.

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