THE DOOR SWEEPER

Tags

America, deception, lies, OATH, Oathkeepers, Obama adminstration, Our sacred Honor, patriots, poetry, Sons of Liberty

Behold, standing by the swinging doors,
The burly DOOR SWEEPER, with outstretched arms,
His implements of deception held firmly in clenched fists,
Ready to hide all evidence of evil.

Masked ingeniously by the sweet songs of summer,
The DOOR SWEEPER silently sweeps truth underground,
While the masses enjoy their sweet summer splashes,
And TRUTH sinks silently into the deep.

Named for their heroes, the Sons of Liberty gather,
Bound by honor and driven by an Oath,
To lend an arm to History’s wayward babe,
And regain our firm footing on solid moral ground.

Blinded by ignorance and crippled by distraction,
The masses are lulled into vain satisfaction,
But Liberty will endure and arise stronger still,
And the DOOR SWEEPER will lick his wounds in defeat.

Hark! How the call of History beckons,
To the heart of mankind to see clearly the subtle signs:
A magnitude of lies and a flood of deception
Has mangled and beaten Truth out of our sight.

Yet, it lingers nearby, guarded by honor,
The Sons of Liberty are coming together at last,
To rise to the occasion and defend unto death,
The noblest, most courageous song of America!

Seldom heard additional verses.
Give these lyrics some thought … and notice the punctuation!

InspirationMonday via BeKindReWrite!

TRAINED FROM BIRTH

Tags

education, goals, honor, life, morality, poetry, purpose, SGT Sanchez

Although still recovering from his injuries overseas, Sgt. Sanchez insisted on leaving his electric wheelchair to walk the flag down Main Street, U.S.A., saying “If it’s for the colors, I’ll walk”

I was born at a time when freedom was honored,
Trained from birth to be a productive adult,
Emotive and intuitive, pensive and strong,
With many gifts and talents, among them, the gift of thought.

Back in those days, Parents and Teachers actually taught;
We learned how to read, how to interpret and think,
To see life’s difficulties as training for coming events,
Fodder for the cut and paste adventures in Life.

I just don’t know how things got twisted around,
And comfort and ease became watch words and goals,
Is nothing worth working toward, nothing innately prized,
And what about morality – Is it all about fast pleasure?

I weep and I mourn for our culture of leeches,
Unwilling to work – unable to dream,
But able to kill, to rape, and to languish
Without a purpose, without goals, without freedom.

Oh people, my friends, don’t you see what’s going on;
Don’t you feel the manacles tighten with each handout received?
Don’t you sense the great insult: always underestimated,
Coddled and indulged as lies wrap around and around?

Hear me and break free; please open your hearts,
To think for yourselves as the valued creations you are;
Yes, masterpieces of ability and bundles of talent,
Nobility untried awaiting Truth to break you free.

** For Inspiration Monday via Bekindrewrite

America, We Need to Talk!

Tags

America, character, conversation, courage, greed, liberty, life, Old Glory, politics, pursuit of happiness, US Constitution, virtue, WE THE PEOPLE, welfare

Yes, America, you and me, we need to talk:
Do you want to be slave, or do you want to be Free?
That’s the question: Do you need to be Free,
As time exchanges blunt realities.

America, you and me, we need to talk:
Freedom is about personal choices, dreams and goals,
But today, we are starved for such Life, Liberty,
And the drive to pursue happiness: slavery.

America, you and me, we need to talk:
Leadership that chooses, with friendly masks,
To enslave by lethargy the weak among us,
With pretty words and outstretched hands: slavery.

America, you and me, we need to talk:
We used to know, and usually did, the right thing,
The noble thing, the virtuous thing, the neighborly thing,
Now, it is the pampered, arrogant, and selfish thing that thrives: slavery.

America, you and me, we need to talk:
I hear you say, through the veil of myriad sleep juice,
“Look at me now, dressed up so gangsta tough!”
But your heart is rotting within you, my love: slavery.

America, you and me, we need to talk:
So much corruption and so little honor,
So much manufactured contention and so little real caring,
So much competition and so little family: slavery.

America, you and me, we need to talk:
You plus me is supposed to equal we-the-people free,
It’s a musical equation most of us still know:
“O’re the land of the Free and the Home of the Brave.”

America, you and me, we need to talk:
Old Glory still waves gracefully from coast to coast,
Over this land of immeasurable blessing,
No longer quite free, but I see pockets of COURAGE rising!

*Inspiration Monday via BeKindReWrite

WHAT’S HE BUILDING IN THERE?

Tags

Building, character, choices, Creator, goal, Inspiration Monday, life, source, treasure, values

WHAT’S HE BUILDING IN THERE?

Out of the abundance of the heart, my mouth speaks,
From all that Life has poured into me thus far:
The good, the difficult, the fun, and the not-so-much fun;
The true riches of this world are incorruptible.

Out of the abundance of the heart, my mouth speaks,
Nuggets of golden wisdom wrapped in pain,
Compassion born of struggle, and patience from grief,
Still joy and rejoicing come freely in the morning.

Out of the abundance of the heart, my mouth speaks,
Paper lies unfold and fall away along with phantom pain,
But gratitude flows unchecked, persistent, and random,
Like the flight of a butterfly through a bountiful garden.

What is the treasure that germinates in your heart?
What dream or trial or endless rage?
What is the Source or Goal of your heart?
What is our Creator building deep inside you?

“A good man out of the good treasure of his heart brings forth good;
and an evil man out of the evil treasure of his heart brings forth evil.
For out of the abundance of the heart his mouth speaks.”
Luke 6:45 NKJV

Check out Inspiration Monday @ BeKindRewrite’s place!

THERE’S A CATCH

Tags

anti-anxiety, choices, consequences, decision, Don't worry, life, Matthew 6:25-34, poetry, Seek first, truth

FUTURE MEMORIES float around us,
Waiting for us to grab hold;
Waiting for choices to be decided,
Waiting for definition.

But there’s a catch, as there always is,
Consequences strung through each choice,
Baggage surrounding each future memory,
Unseen, unheard, and often untold.

Each day is a canvas left to conquer;
Colors are chosen, but there is no order,
It’s up to me to choose the object,
And bring order to the colored chaos.

But there’s a catch, as there always is,
Consequences strung through each choice,
What is the price for each future memory,
Unseen, unheard, and often untold.

What is the Framework and where are the boundaries?
What defines my life’s direction?
What are the goals, the prizes, the treasures
That define the goal of my life.

There’s a catch, as there always is,
Consequences strung through each choice,
Out of death comes life; and out of pain, there’s joy,
And FREEDOM in borne of TRUTH.

Run toward the TRUTH, the love of God among us,
The birds of the air or the lilies that bloom,
They don’t worry, or strive, or fret;
They just Run toward the TRUTH of GOD’s LOVE.

Matthew 6:25-34

Inspiration Monday: future memories

Unraveling Freedom

Freedom is rapidly unraveling,
as the foundation upon which our nation was built
is disassembled virtue by virtue.

What once was revered as a worthy achievement,
now is mocked in derision
as old-fashioned and out of touch.

The Freedoms millions
fought and died to establish and protect,
are now squandered lightly
in exchange for empty promises and vain excuses.

As if foreign enemies are not enough,
certain elements within our nation
have inoculated us with a “Fear Vaccine,”
turning neighbor against neighbor,
father against son, and brother against brother.

This fear vaccine works backwards, deceptively,
multiplying fear and sowing mistrust,
spreading its contagious terrorist poison.

Worse yet, the vaccine was messed up on purpose, by design,
it is force-fed to those tossed on the waves of political correctness,
breeding dependence on our vainglorious government.

The love of money remains the root of all evil,
and this love of money and power corrupt any
who venture near without a well-worked moral compass.

Count the windows to the top of the tallest building,
the rungs of the proverbial ladder of success,
and they will sing the song of the few who have stood strong.

Short the song may be,
but still the few and noble names resound,
perhaps more dimly now, but still ever present.

The song echos,
while few new names join the heroic list,
but those in uniform lost in battle.

Death by piano as famous names die
and drop off the edge of the earth,
lost in time without their personal North Star.

With no absolute moral compass,
all noble hearts turn cold,
conquered by the universal lust for MORE.

Thanks, BEKINDREWRITE! Great prompts, as always!

How to Make a Mask that Fits!

With a dire desire to build a mask,
I ponder life’s bold images,
And scan the shapes, the colors, and shades,
And gauge life’s starts and finishes.

What sort of mask do I need today,
Something bright and frilly,
Or perhaps today I wish to say,
Something dark and chilly.

What shall I choose to become today,
A mask of joy or sorrow,
What passion shall I evoke today,
Red or blue, green or yellow?

My mask is real, I quickly announce,
It’s who I want to be,
It’s ME, It’s ME, angrily I pronounce
I don’t know why you can’t see!

Remember my dreams, and let me be
The girl with the blaring horn,
Dont let me forget who You made me to be
Underneath all the masks I have worn.

I hear you scoff at my contemplation,
That I dare to design my mask,
Who does yours, I sweetly inquire,
Or should I bother to ask?

*Updated from HERE

THANKS to BEKINDREWRITE for the continuing saga of Inspiration Monday!

Heroes Needed! Gutless Need Not Apply!

The brave, wandering knight sat atop his gallant steed drifting through the thick forest. He sought not a battle, nor the glory one imagines, but the quiet of a soft green clearing. He’d been riding for days, or maybe weeks. He was no longer certain, but the fighting was done, for now, and he sought a moment’s repose.

By an all but hidden stream he camped. He fed and watered his horse, then he walked an unmarked perimeter to stretch his legs, weary from long days in the saddle, and hunt for something worthy of his hunger. He lay down and slept, after munching on a few berries. In his sleep, he dreamed.

On the trail of an escaped villain, he easily followed the trail of blood. The villain was wounded, how badly, he could not tell. Miles he followed the broken branches and footprints into the forest, but no villain did he find. He did happen upon an old campfire, though, with the carcass of an animal still on the spit. Not warm, but not there long enough for the wild things to apprehend it.

Off to one side of the camp was a ditch several inches deep that ran wit a thick liquid he at first thought was blood. “That’s not blood.” he whispered aloud, relieved to discover the same. “Just thick, muddy water that’s been poured away from the camp. It seems our villain was not alone here. Perhaps this was a meeting place.”

Determined, he broke the string of his thought with purpose. He dare not imagine a pack of villainous lions prowling across the landscape unchecked. “All this time I was wrong!” He cried out tot he heavens in mourning for those, his companions, whose lives had been forfeit. He stood quietly and gazed into the forest. Perhaps, he had dumbly stumbled upon his destiny. Perhaps, he, too, would meet up with others to share his burden lest he be another in the broken string of heroes bringing villains to justice.

Farewell beloved fairy tales. It’s been great fun for a spell but reality beckons with urgent cry. “Heroes needed. Gutless need not apply!”

INSPIRATION MONDAY is the brainchild of BEKINDREWRITE, and every week puts forth quite workable prompts to inspire our creativity! Join us, won’t you?

Her favorite thing in all the world was shoes!

Once upon a time, there was a very small girl named Sophie. Her favorite thing in all the world was shoes! No really! Her mother used to put her in her room, open the bottom drawer of her dresser, and there to her wild and wondrous imagination was a treasure chest filled with shoes! Brightly colored shoes, shiny patent leather shoes, flowery little sneakers, and her favorite – pink “clicky” shoes! Sophie, as a very small girl, played with her shoes for hours, mixing and matching while her imagination soared.

One bright morning, Sophie’s mom opened the drawer for her to play. It wasn’t long before a strangled cry startled her mother who then came running to see what was the matter. “Sophie, dear, what on earth is wrong?”

“I’ve lost my shoe! I’ve lost my shoe!” she stomped, her tears freely flowing.

“No worries, my sweet! This used to be me! Let’s see where this shoe could be!” Mom said. “Is it under your bed; please look and see. Is it under your dresser; please look and see. Is it under the rug; please look and see! I don’t see where, oh where your shoe has gone.” Mom stood with her hands on her hips and gazed around Sophie’s room.

She thought back to the days of her own girlhood with a sigh of sweet nostalgia. A stiff tug on her shirttail and that all-too-familiar “mommy,” startled her back to the trauma at hand. She turned and picked up her little bundle of fun and gave her a quick snuggle, then whispered in her ear, “Do you think your shoe might have crawled under your blanket?”

Sophie squealed with delight as she ran to her bed and peeked under the blanket. Lo and behold it was there! Sophie gave mom’s leg a quick hug and dove back into the play. As a parent, they never tell you that part! it wasn’t long at all before the lost shoe was forgotten. Things were never better!

Thanks so much to BEKINDREWRITE for her skilled encouragement and support in our mutual writing adventure!

Note to Self: Eyes on the Prize

Note to self:

Eyes on the prize, focused and unafraid,
One step at a time,
Forward, always forward, focused and unafraid.
Always open to signs from heaven.

Note to self:

Standing firm on the rock that doesn’t shift,
Hands open to serve,
Open heart and useful hands from the rock that doesn’t shift,
Always attentive to the signs from heaven.

Note to self:

Working everyday toward a higher virtue,
Heart open wide,
All the pieces fit together on the road toward higher virtue,
Always grateful for the signs from heaven.

Note to self:

It’s a long walk to forever with eyes on the prize,
Heaven kisses earth,
Tomorrow is ever closer if my eyes are on the prize,
The past is gone, today is rich with signs from heaven.

Inspiration Monday continues with challenging prompts each week! Join the fun @ BEKINDREWRITE