He's the hand I felt on my shoulder as the tornado went over me . He's the one who saved me from choking to death in my own ***** . He's the one who sat beside me on the mountaintop as I cried over my wrongs . And if I ever kneeled before him he would take my hands and raise me so I could kiss his cheek . Who is God ? My best friend who has saved me time and time again . Who understands my limits and my failures but forgives me each and every time . One who is always there for me to lean on when I am tired , lonely , discouraged . One who has shown me heaven and promised a place there for me .
Who is God ? He is in me , my past , my present , and future . I am nothing without my God .

There were sixty-five
valentines for you
I colored the one from me
your favorite blue
I didn't know
the whole world loves you too
with sixty-four adversaries
I guess we could be through

So did they all say
"I Love You"
or "be mine today
& every day
I want to be your valentine
Be Mine"

or did they say that "I
only want to love you"
and after twenty solid years
could it really be we're through

There were sixty-five
valentines for you
I colored the one from me
your favorite blue

I was having a conversation with the Gerber baby the other day. You know, the one on the jars. Interestingly enough, he simply would not stop giggling. You know and here I am trying to get an answer out of him. But, he would not budge. "What's so funny, baby?" I inquired. {giggles, giggling and more giggles.} Well! What is it? He's not talking. Maybe it has something to do with the peas and carrots or the applesauce. I just could not understand his incoherent dribbling. I guess the joke is on me. I just hope he doesn't make me wear any of it. Oh boy! is he a happy camper.

You can get away with cheating and still become a champion.

The old songs don’t feel right
wrong key, out of tune
somebody wake Sinatra
reclaim these wayward melodies
My Way, New York
New York
seat of the Queen
a gilded new King
everything he touches
Gold

money equals tower
Freudian crystal skyscrapers
the fitting measure
of a brittle man
who has not strength
to speak the truth
recites instead from
a book of fables
the moral to every one
those in glass houses
shouldn’t throw stones

the town crier proclaims
the truth does not matter
no one cares

hold tight that red hat
lest it be snatched
by a rebellious wind
see it now, a symbol
framed in white and blue
rising above the crowd
boots on the ground speak
shiny brass buttons
on a pert military coat
don’t a revolutionary make

the peddler of lies is just
a liar once-removed
“alternative facts”
brash fabrications
with a fancy semantic bow
such a pretty package
such a pretty family
the biggest crowd
in all of history
let the whole world

Witness

this most
perfect union