Lucky are those who have found love
and been loved.

Lucky are those who bear the gift of face.
   Easy is for them to find an easy case
            for their own taste
     - a goal for their own base.

Lucky are those who has an outstanding confidence.
For by it, they don’t live with a doubtful fence.
Freely as they get any wants in their existence.

I give away smiles, pieces of my lies,
        pretending not having rainy skies.
Hiding my Breathless sighs.

Sometimes I am like a rock
   too dull to feel, a surface too rough.
A sense I lost, an unreachable core,
I don’t know how to love anymore.



*© 2014 Pax

I ask the Lord To be with me
as I journey through my day
it was so good to know His eye
was on me each step of the way

now I may stumble I may fall
and still he will remain
my precious friend though my failure
He keeps me safe and sane

He will be there till the end of strife
No matter where you are
He is there patiently waiting
no distance will be too far

He will reached down from heaven
with his tender hand
and show you His love
how much he really cares

Don't ever give up on his love
for he loves you and He's there
He will not allow more to happen
then what we can bear

we all have those days
when things goes wrong
to know inside our heart
we can always sing a song

he will hear your call loud or faint
and surely answer your prayer
there's never been a day I could say
my lord was never there

I like the moments
When my waiting-thee-eyes see thee:
Inside a new rhythm rhymes,
Burns the fire no end
And dies solitude of the soul!
On the carob I feel myself dropped by the angels
And hold me softly thy tender branches,
And the nectareous melodies the bird sings within
And in elation keep me drenched!
With the playing movements of the breeze
Up and down they leap
And I experience the essence of true love!

~

irreverent place
on a laundry room shelf,
his is a figure serene.
source of comfort?
source of peace?
perhaps...
but oh, so much
more than that...
this is a crossroads
where absolution meets  
the gritty mundane,
where he became
her source of familiarity.
"good morning, Sweet Jesus,
i'm just here to wash
my ***** laundry."
no sacrilege here,
no... nothing profane.
from the hand outstretched
held out for the taking
who is this really,
this chalk figurine?
in tranquility certain,
a doorway between
human fragility and
perfection divine.
in life’s messy journey
our ***** laundry aside
how could one not feel,
more rinsed of life's stains?
Sweet Jesus, of course
divine cleanser, unseen
now, here on my mantle
my house feels more clean!

~

post script.

when a fellow treasure-hunter shared not only the story of  "Sweet Jesus" (a hand painted, european, chalk sculpture of a early-last-century, bleeding-heart Christ who was the long-time occupant of her laundry room closet shelf), but also an offer to bring him out of the closet and sell him to me (yes, it's true... i bought him for a few pieces of silver), i jumped at the chance to bring him to my mantle and determined to construct a fitting poem as a way to say, "thank you, Elaine!”  and to say unabashedly to anyone else, “i love my Sweet Jesus!  you are out of the closet... forever!!”

no sacrilege whatsoever intended
i dearly hope you'll not be offended!
:-) Steve

I'm alone again
With the Lord, my only friend
It's peaceful really, not at all that bad
I'm happy and serene, not the least bit sad

It's a beautiful morning
So thankful to be alive
No reason to fear
No reason to hide

I'm comfortable with no one around
The ocean waves, such a peaceful sound

I could stay here forever
In this lovely warm place
But back to real life
I'll have to face

Hark! Take heed, for this cake be both mighty and magnificent!

1.75 cups flour
2 cups white sugar
2 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. baking powder
0.75 cups unsweetened cocoa powder
1 tsp. salt
2 eggs
1 cup (as in 8 fl.oz/250mL.) strongly brewed coffee (make more and drink it!)
1 cup buttermilk (or 1 tbs. white vinegar+1 cup milk mixed well, blah blah)
0.5 cups cocoanut oil (or 0.33 cups basicallywhatever oil), a little less if ***
1 tsp. vanilla extract
OPTIONAL:
2-3 shots (60-90mL; 0.2-0.33 cups) black spiced *** (Kraken, if at all possible)
I also want to experiment with whiskey/burbon.. if you try it, let me know!

--Flour, sugar cocoa powder, baking soda+powder, salt mixed in one bowl
-- eggs, coffee, ***, buttermilk, oil, vanilla in another

Slowly mix the dry into the wet until as homogenous as possible.
I use an 8"x8" (20cmx20cm) pan @350F (175 C) for about 40 minutes, but I check on it at round 30 minutes because some variance may well apply. If you use olive oil, or avocado oil, or whatever other more fluid oil, I find a slightly hotter oven (375 F/190 C) can be advisable, but pay attention to your specific scenario! The worst that's happened for me is the top gets a bit crusty, but that pleasantly works with the overall moisture of the cake, especially with olive oil and the *** addition.
Do the toothpick test to see if it's ready!

Frosting is applicable, as well, because this Magical Cake is not horribly sweet for how horribly sweet it sure is. I usually just sprinkle some confectioner's sugar on it to make it look all fancy for my classy friends and band-mates.
ENJOY!
Bake responsibly, but have some fun.
Also, suffer the decimals!

This country was built on greed.
All the white men had desires;
Gold, God and Glory their creed.
Sin loves to travel in packs
wrath came next to spill blood.
The Great Spirit received many guests.

Having desires is not a sin.
Sin entered when men were sold
to backbreaking work for another’s gain.
***** blood fueled the Southern Kingdom
greed begot sloth which begot fear
slavery became too valuable to lose.

So in the great American tradition
compromise became the easy way out.
Why fight for 3/5 a person;
instead bounce between slave and free
making all envy the southern wealth
a perfect illusion hiding white poor.

Fast forward to the Postbellum south.
Half the wealth has become man
equality will mean Southern prosperity’s death.
The south needs labor to rebuild
sharecropping and convict leasing slavery’s *******
will help keep the ***** down.

When men become numbers society fails.
Why not work them to death?
Just grab another to lay rails.
Once being black is a crime
it’s simple to justify white pride.
Fear will keep those ******* inline.

So do not blame Big Business
for the destruction they routinely cause.
Save your petitions to our congress
they can’t even touch the monster.
We devour all that we see
but that’s our countries original Sin.