Chief Joshua

Try the BEST MySpace Editor and MySpace Layouts at MySpace Toolbox !!June 7th...Locked away kept and scorned. Though I did not know the reason for my excursion. I kept the faith. It has proven lucrative. As the fruit of good labor does. We being the first fruits of Christ. As I came about screaming and raging this stillness tonight is divine. I am the tepee under the stars. I am the whether or not of my unborn children in peace. Love suffers long and is kind; love does not envy; love does not parade itself, is not puffed up. Love is to die for and with....... ...5-29-08...I had a daydream. It was sweetly intoxicating. It was clarity; crystal clear. On my countryside, reclined outside in a white cotton swing, a measure drifting aboard the earth through space into time. There was a pond settled still beside me. Tall golden strands of wheat blow in the atoms of the air in the field to my left. The tall straws flash rays of canary light that bounce off the pond and light the path to my home further north of me. A girl in a white dress prances toward me, like the ballerina of a glass floor, she does enough to make it smooth enough; her dress partly trapping her delicate angelic rose blushed scarlet body. Quickly she leaps on to the cotton abreast sharing a moment with me. Time lapses and she drifts into dreams upon my chest. The best of my heart is slowed, my breathing becomes purposely hesitant, cause I dare not wake her. As if she is my nurse listening to give of me an auscultation. I feel the energy of goodness, I cannot help but notice the drumming of my organ. The mid-central one of me that she loves. Get wayward, run away, be gone and leave in haste, come closer and swear to it I'll see you die by my strong hands. Shoooww, I whisper to the approaching Wasp. Dare not wake her, your trickery is noted and heard buzz away know or I shall toss you to and fro. Hours pass I suggest that I shall leave her alone, my legs quake and my breath is now to short to continue this love-stand holdout. Foot following foot-stepped I head on the now orange peeled road North to my home alone. I shutter, I pause, I am overtaken. I cannot leave her be, I answer, I never want another moment without her. As I create this dialog inside my head, like an alarm, in total symmetry with me she then rises swift before I turn even. I can hear sweet footsteps and the rhythm of my name from her vocals fired toward me like an arrow. "Wait for me my dearest, I want to go where you go" she says. I break-neck around she overtakes me to the ground like an avalanche. I am insider her know and I appeal gently to her autonomic feelings. I govern her with the steered pressing and increased rhythm with the threading of my love to her. JMA.. .................Learn to be in love with the unknown. Do I love her? Is it real? When I stop to consider her hair, her smell, her taste, I am completely in love with her. But when I feel she is asking me to be so much all at once I am taken back. The irony of the time and life. We don't know the amount given. Thou are days may be numbered as the hair on our head. The bible speaks of pressing on toward the future, the goodness of tom. The breath I'll breath. The width and length of my travels. The seas I'll see. The people I'll watch and begin to love. I know this and it's for certain. I will never love just one person. But the degree of my love, my infatuation, the truth of my love, the endless burn of the candle is certified and far deeper in the ways I love her. I love her. Tonight I struggled to say it. Never again will I shutter to speak the truth by blanketing it with fear, uncertainty, the unknown. Like air I take her in and breath her back to the world. For all need her beauty, just as I need to love all. I am not jealous, only ardently heart her. I love the shape and movement of that woman. Delicate are the tones of her skin, the way I feel completed and helpless at once. She is the welcomed intruder, the teacher of my sexuality. I lie and picture her naked, a blanket-less body; dreaming of what ways I wish to do to her. Every organ salutes my agapae love. I would break her like a puzzle to put her each person back together, only that I may know the width of her body completely and lay hands to it. That I may experience with my senses very closely the wonder of her make. The absolution of all I wish to be. love.......5-27-08...I will always have you. The girl that helped me get better. The girl I traveled many miles with. You gave me wonderful memories You were delicate and free, You colored my world. For two whole years you colored me. I lie on your porch and listened to thunder roar. I lay under you on occasion and you made my heart quake. We danced many long nights. We made many promises and shared hopes and desires. We failed together, We made up together. Two whole years, Like a comet in my sky I got to witness you fly by. I let you go this day like a bird. To travel your own way. But double it not. If your a bird I'm a bird. And I won't let you get away. Know my world has become gray. But I'll carry on hiding my shame. Time shall maintain me. Life is defeating and uncomplimentary sometimes. It gives and it takes. Life gives you time, and numbers them by days. Yet what I hide deep inside, what I've told to you. You already must know. Presently I don't have you though.......... .....5-25-08...Whether I find myself working a painting, resting and reading by the pool. Slumbering after a long day at play. Sporting late into my favorite part of the day. Being bashful at the site of a mother holding a child. Considering who it is I really am. Becoming your favorite for the first time in many months, finding myself unapologetic and forgiving. Standing on the street corner, trampling down the middle of the road none can really own. Giving a lecture to a young boy, or giving recognition of intelligence to an old gray man. Acknowledging beauty, falling in love. The temporary, swiftly, sporadic days turning to dusk. Sometimes I watch intently the fluttering thousand vibrations of the hummingbird in flight, I explore the mold of an old oak testing time. The river of garbage flowing in the city boulevard, the murky muddy hillsides. When I'm rolling on sea billows studying the milky vast skies. The blushing bride, the beautiful young boy with childhood bravery. Unplanned gestures, purity of facial expressions, from mind to matter; the honest openness of tears rolling down your cheeks, from inside that mind to the floor. The way a girl resembles her mother. The fight to stay alive and feed. When I must escape the encumbering city to find my imagination. When we kiss, when my knees feel weak and quake. The uncertainty of an airplane flight. The prayer for unclean air. The uncertainty I'll never be loved back, the scorn and self punishment dealt while alone. The shame you make me feel for knowing I deserve you. Imprisoned; the gray between the black and white left unsaid. When fist fighting, when bathing, if I had to kill for it. Not knowing how to say it, having hope in new memories. Exhausted, careworn, and letting go of old memories. The chaos of the atoms of the air, the symmetry of craftsmanship by the creator. It all becomes less than significant in thought or action. In joy and sorrow, or in the wonder of discovery; Nobody really knows what the hell there doing. So we take chances and risks, we wager greatly with appreciation, and for the largest time I have feared the loss. See none of this born or created, or experienced or witnessed can marvel quite like you do to me. JMA ..........5-21-08...I seem to have become too cavalier. Waiting for the day to come, how patient I would wait for a comet. Torch the sky with it's glistening white light. When I was a boy I saw Hailey's comet. I remember the yard the way the laundry foam budded the yard. The cool night. Yet I don't remember If the comet ever appeared that night. It is as cloudy to me as that night. But I remember the love. What was and then was lost. As goes the world. I'll never give up on that comet. It was more than a movement. It was a chattel. I take it always with me. Yes I was hurt by the loss. I realize now it was as much mine as any or other could have had it. I suppose love could last forever otherwise life would be irrelevant. I do hope so.... 4-1-08...I live in this melancholy beautiful sadness, joyful for each day with interlaced regrets. I believe the best art a person can produce corresponds to there personal happiness. Driving by a couple in there auto seeing them smile and laugh together is a glad sorrow, a pleasant pen prick. I hypothesize theories in relation to my beliefs. I up keep my moral standards based on these and how convicted I believe in them. In the end of my run, exhausted or esteemed, more likely I will find these theories doubtful. If you don't stand behind your beliefs you have first dismissed your own ability to reason, and second any hope of finding an original idea is deemed lost; a mode or personal religion by which to live by. Saying this I believe the wise enrich there genius by trusting the mistakes of past fathers, giving honor and glorious recognition to that which has been done. As I said, it's true, I live by a grand and sincere ideological sadness that decorates life with a glisten. ........3-29-08...Sweeter than the youngest freshest wine, is me getting time alone. Sinking in high seas on my back belly up. I can smell my predestination. A field where only the deer have roamed, rolling vines rest on the boughs of evergreen giants. The reflection from my pond is promising, forgiving me each eulogy. Everyday my old passions exhorting uprising again, the fullness of my manly beard expressing knowledge and good times. Shaving isn't even an option, I'm so alone, I'm smothered by the wildlife. Like floating in space-matter, where it's cold, it is silent. I cannot imagine to any lifeforms around me. No unaccounted laws to entertain. That's just the fact. At last my curtain falls, I am the supreme audience. She is my world. I am the El Capitan. There is no ticket price, we love and laugh at our differences. Each one offering a formal unique step. My shimmy is unmatched and unashamed. I parade on the days till winter comes, thus I retire without clocks; December is immortality, January is pleasant isolation, and February the same. The spring showers bring back soothing flowers engulfing the ocean like fields. Life calls to me deep. Pressed upon my cheek I rest my hand and slumber amphibious analysis. I am stone unmovable by stomach or vice. The show must go on the midnight owl screeches like the sirens persuading attention. Deep calls to deep. And we March forward; April then comes May, O what a day. The thunder of a June storm beckons me and quakes me from this fantasy. It's Saturday, I gesture care-warn, pausing with my lips together, my head is tilted, blood flows like wine a river of thought. Can all this be possible and true if I would bring you. 3-29-08 . Is there today any new depths to my heart. I saw a man hold a woman. I've watched em play like cats. Ive noticed life without a map. I've written the stars, I've traced your silloute on Saturdays. Lonely days. God is Salvation. Looking for divine inspiration. Next time I have an epiphany I'll promise to ignore the damn stoplight and flash my signal. I'm not moving from my immortality so easily. A team flows when all parties flow like billowed seas. It is well with my soul. 3-23 Happy Easter.............2-22-08-I found your hair on my pillow, it was golden.I put it about my fingers and blew on it, it fluttered. I twirled it and it danced. I dropped it; it lay lifeless, motionless.2-22-08...............1-31-08...Funny when that feeling sneaks up on you middle of the day. Like you are right beside me. But then I also feel distant, like I created you perfectly spinndling with golden hair and curves like a Ballarena. There is a deffinate mood change when we are together, an electricity when our bodies meet. You are like my Venus, keeping me on edge with wonder, bright, elegant, shrouded in cloud yet still you are the most illuminant in my sky, but revealing your secrects reluctantly. This point in my life is not like the many phases of our moon, it is real, I am not oblivious to my thirst for love. ..1-28-08--The fact is I desperately want to live and be a child of God. I wanna understand him, even when these situations arise. I would like to be more understanding of his wisdom and see the purpose of pain incorporated in life. I felt like JOB at certain points just loathing my self and life. Frankly unless you question your circumstances your experiencing, I believe you receive no finality toward understanding them. It is the most powerful gift we were given as men and maybe women; even though I don't believe I completely understand a women's love; the man's ability to think and understand the mind of his creator, or our creator I should say. Men and women are different. Men being of the intellect and alway wanting reason, women more prone to solutions and accepting circumstances by understanding the reason-backed love. I thought a lot about change and if L.A. is right for me. I believe sometimes a change is spawned in us to circumnavigate our bodies and the completeness of our minds. God gave me a great shell, and a magnificent mind to dwell in. Possibly it is this dwelling that I fade away to, and forget to explore the beauties of my whole body mind and soul. So we continue on toward new days with new sunsets, reflecting on the past, ignoring our regrets, with hope for the greatness of ourselves to be deplored for the rest of the world to find us beautiful. What is life but the pursuit of a dream, a great dream I suppose...... 1-14-08--- The day we finally take full account of God's design grace cannot depart us then. I haven't yet realized how seasonal life is, nature teaches us to await long winters, to flurrish the bright shedding summers, and we then surely come full upon the day where we learn life is but an extension of God's dream "Nature". We are but the branches, and God the vine-dresser. Go ahead then and choose fiercly whom will be your vine................................................ 12-6-07..I am transitional, my deeds outweigh my struggles. I will to draw a map masterfully, directly to the heart. -What then else would my struggles be of use. Not a single blossom for my memorable wild red garden. Allow what dreams may come. The yelllow toxic serum hatefully rolls from my enemies poorhouses. Whining and gnashing of teeth is piercing to them, so they wish to bring me to Sheol as a sacrifice for there pain. But I will not let it be. I refuse to surrender, I spread-eagle away with my joy. Give thanks for another O so sweeeet breath and am guilt free and aloft with the stars. I am grateful for this day; To Come............ ...........................11-13-07.....That, I never thought could exist. Against the strength of my own demons, somehow, by your own way you have managed to tear down my internal hatred inside. My life will remain eternally forever graced by the smooth carress of knowing you. It's not often, as we walk alone day after day, the day is completely unexpected we are too meet someone unique. We ask ourselves as wise men, what were you doing the day you first witnessed a miracle, the day you first saw your angel. I was suffering, a pain in my stomach so deep and dark yet positively unkown by all. A little piece of hell in a pill bottle if you will. Don't wonder, imagine if you will a two lane tar-blackened road. A hate for yourself, the wind stinning your skin. Shapes inside your head squeezing for release. Water washing away blurry images looking right through you, the people in there colors picked to match there taste for personal desire. And time freezes, light rides down in a coaster and blends zealously into a sheet in the breeze atop a mountain of the only truth I have witnessed out of eyes so wonderful. .------------11-11-07..... Below is a short portion of a read I stumbled upon. In interesting correlation one of the Golden Cities they speak of will be Wahanee of Georgia and South Carolina's Vortices. Only hours before I was reading the Travel section of the L.A. times; listed was an article about the Dalai Lama. "Making Peace in Atlanta", during days when deep devastating droughts trouble Georgia, comes this dire rain shower. The beginnings of a future paradise begin with conversations by brave men about the simple emerald's of peace. Communities Of The Future - Golden CitiesThere are many aspects about the Golden City Vortices that the Ascended Masters have shared with us. According to their prophecies and spiritual teachings, each Golden City Vortex is not only a protected area to live in the event of Earth Changes, they are also areas where major lei-lines of the Earth’s Grid intersect and create an Energy Field. This Energy Field has a certain structure and quality that is contained in every Vortex, but there are also unique qualities that are contained and expressed in each individual Golden City. There are Five United States Golden City Vortices...................-------------- ----10-20-07...I Stood my ground, witnessed, -And I won't back down. He presumed evil from men to be pain. No, not one can consider to control something which everything does draw from, it's as infinite as God. The difference is in the triumph. Man, man is the devil the source of all evil..----................10-12--7.....A heart beats in time, trusting, faithful with every solitary rippling beat. Time needs the heartbeat, as the heart beats because time moves. Cease all and time becomes empty roving. Time wouldn't fly if not for you and I. It amazes me how time can flow seemingly both fast and slow. Riding flowing moments, blotted full on emotion coasters. I can make time halt, carrying your love. Inside me is all abilities, which I decide the moments that move me. Only the most tender effigies of thought hasten me movement in time; even in the worst of time, these that speed me like a cannon ball crackling the wind, I live for and involving these tiny last days of time am involved in the power of tens the times--------------------------Hot sweat bubbles roll down my skin, still tender from the shock of your fingers touch, it quickly rushes through time toward the dirty ground and evaporating like an angel into the heavenly pillow like nebula clouds. It's winter agian, Ive decided this time to live it alone. Salvage my energy, and if possible possibly admit to myself my lack of love for my own delicate self.10-12-07 ...........10-10-08.Life is a continuous- venture. Death works without any future. We are born and continue to live, in death the alternate we -see a finality. Each year we witness the earth in birth, in life through summer, and a gradual beautiful declining autumn into winter. Death is probably just as lovely, I suppose.......................10-8-07...They too felt the superiority of character which addressed all men with a native authority. But let it be known, rather heard, a playful expression of his conviction of the indifference of all places, and that the best place for each is where he stands. I think nothing is to be hoped from you, if this bit of mould under your feet is not sweeter to you to eat than any other in this world, or in any world........................... .....9-24-07-----------From our birth we train instinct, with great vigor we writhe through pain. Like gravity stricken stars trapped inches above the dirt. Our most influencial energy is blossoming with time in our age , we find to be more than just a people of desire. Rather most of us do see oceans, rarely do we witness the raging sea's of our own souls. This delight I speak of becomes stranger with this dragging time without any punctuality's to ignite knightly adventures or internal pirate seeking fortunes which lay dormant and not found even by Christoper himself. I don't wish on my death bed even, to take the journey with another, alone we came alone I part. I only hope there is someone willing to watch me die.....9-24-07............. 3-2-07 "If tommorrow came and left traces of dreams. If all I needed to get started was a degree. And if my stars aligned tonight to deliver me to destiny. In light of these conditions I would take a vacation... I care to write excellences. My youthful writings dote posteriers and barriers, not quiet unobtainable, but to uncommon for the commoner; which indeed makes the most difference, to be able to apply to one-self. Letter shadows stalked by run ons and bleeding sentences, with pangs jousting and ramblings of un-descriptive fury. And tonight certainly I think I will never succeed alone. Without a parachute we grow wings of choice.----------------------------------------------------- --------------- 3-3-07 So sensitive to let your emotions interfere and I ponder on this? I feel the world when it surpasses. As do I experience each mood that creeps to my reality. If I could create out from one word, I would suggest Love. A fresh, sunrise kind of love. An easy ending always setting never leaving sunset love. I've seen many sunsets, how beautiful and unique is each. I turn around and witness still beauty in the east, with the before seen blush of the west. And still I suppose, having a moment taking in all around me. I shutter to think, yet realizing, my eyes can only see one beauty at a time. And this beauty, when focused with complete stillness; tranquility like a stone, indulges me into fantasies incomparable and surpassing all; only which to be unfolded in my mind. Shall I not find this beauty to my satisfaction. Can I afford higher, will I truly want not another; more. As I conclude and convince here about the institution of marriage. You may know come to believe, shouldn't one ultimately be enough. For beauty of one, stood witnessed, lies not in your eyes but in your mind. And she's all I ever need. 3-4-07-------------------------- We are racing you and I. Hurried to an ending for me and you. For reasons unsaid I be a little shy. I testify to always be true. There's no explanation or affectation, Your gestures say aloud your thoughts. Create, create release your hatred and possess your manifestation. 3-10-07--------------How bout my character, does it change? The question begs for consistency to be manufactured into standards. If it's not all good or bad, right or wrong, what can a son do to gain favor in his fathers eyes. Our earth the place of birth, the keeper of men; will to me a simple solemn path, as you reared those before me. Keep me sanctioned nestled and close at hand. Central. As you travel freely onward into time along paths of your uncertainty's; like you I fear resolutions, or better yet unfinished solutions, grant us good passengers safe keeping. God Speed you great earth, roaring fervently, wind blown cool blue earth. Give your riders a grand view as we travel with you. Show us something infinite, let each day new eyes gaze upon colors, abundant florescent and drooling flavors full of colors. Rain bowed drooping glistening greens and elegant fire blazing reds. Let me see the life of another rotation, be obedient in your relations lest not be burned by mother's flaring ray beams. Race with excitement for your triumphant sunrising new smelling seasoned tomorrows, don't fear or tremble tired rocky ageless earth. Glow for me yellow morning glories and green grandeurs. Be not pale with rolling lifeless clouds, blush neither your embarrassed orange shy peeking suns of the dawn. Stand among the titans whom hide in your western sequoias. Speed assuring whistling through the wind harping your love chords "Onward I come into victory." Break the Universal matters ahead and flea into blackness unknown never sailed. O how I long to stay aboard this ship, to be attached by foot upon you. You must seek perfection or lead us all to doom. And if you do let me be with you. One turn and all your glories green and blue will crumble onto the passengers which ride with you. Earth, once so smooth, grant me another hour that I may climb your ridges and defeat my own challenges internal. Now comes the dusk, and the universal sirens sound, your ground-lings tremble mighty moonlit earth. Spy out this stalking scoundrel that soars pursuing your peoples. And into stilling black silence, you go onward, without question as if a whispered worry never lingered before you, I trust my deliverer, and now smelling my earths fresh morning dew, you hear my call of warning, my childish voice speaks to you. A whining echo which has now given all your passengers away, and away, and away, and evermore away from you we go.....------------------------------------- 3-29-07-Onward toward time and away from age. Into previewed life carrying finger pointing trivials. Here and there with dimes on the eyes walking, to feed the greed of the belly the brains liberally spooning, Tickets buying or taking or selling, but in to the feast never once going; Many sweating and ploughing and thrashing, and then the chaff for payment receiving, A few idly owning, and they the wheat continually claiming. This is the city....and I am one of the citizens; Whatever interests the rest interests me....politics, churches, newspapers. I know perfectly well my own egotism, And know my omnivorous words, and cannot say any less, And would fetch you whoever you are flush with myself. I AM SORRY FOR YOU....THEY ARE NOT MURDEROUS AND JEALOUS UPON ME.-------------------------------------4-8-07--Easter Sunday Changed Me............................ Co-erce and take effort in the cooperation unlimited by natural laws. Unheralded, surpassing exploding on off from the rugged bagged leaves we were once before, unraveling proudly our emotions, and fly away with them buzzing us freely across open plains and far over all the pendulous earth to promote our self involved Mardi Gras'. FOR OF THIS I DON'T FEEL OR WILL TO BE ANY LONGER.----------------------------------------------------- ----------------4-23-07---Fond but not in love. The story of most our lives. And you could have it all. The grand provision. She spills her wine upon my lap; gently rubbing it off my blue pin striped pants and then finger pointing me to come to the patio. She then steals me of my riches and leaves me on a spindle, quivering, leading me closer by telling me of her reason for the straps on the back of her dress that comfort her breathing from chest to sternum. Her graceful neck seems to make the words only more piercing as they flow from her pink painted lips. She spins her lies one after another, always trying to revert back to the story before covering each lie like a farmer covers his rotten fruit only to produce the hope of purity next season. I derms don van se' hellashep coul yo fa mastalla serrim la purfor being don nimble babosos. I wonder if I will ever find pure love. If ever, I dream forever, Still to badly bruised. I trumpet my pains. You must think about the future, live in the present and consider your past. I try to avoid death....? Joshua Ault -- 4-23-07 .........................................4-27-07............ .As for work. Abbuse is paper thin. It can't breach your skin. This acrimonious spat from the tounges of fools is impenetrable to the soul. Dedication and committment to a desire is what changes out character. Not a ridicule of opions made from jargon. Words cannot change your mind about your character or self. It can only direct the next course of your action. Which, from any good person an action can only direct the sails of your ship, and not build onto what has already been crafted. These words bounce off the body like the wind and exsist forever, as a countiuous passing on. Passed on but never sinking in. Sorry I think I just rambled... Anyways Angel Baby. You don't always have to complete a project to find resolution. Walking away is not always wrong. You might have just walked away from the negetive and towards the best thing you will ever know. It's not failure to be done with something, it's the resolve towards something new and greater than before. A candle can burn from both ends so when you believe your light has dimmed. God has just turned you upside down and egnighted a bigger tourch from the bottom. One that all the world will know....... And for this I am happy.................................... May 22 2007............................................If I could ask God just one question? Why aren't you here with -me.-------------------------------------------------------- --------------6-7-07------- O I fight, O my sufferings carry me far beneath; under the waves and floods of choice, the most influential decisions we make in our lives are found here; and far below quietly stalking like a butler, my song of sorrow has a will to want to tunnel out to air and earth. Come a little closer I wanna feel your body next to me. Your ways, to your lips and fingertips. With my shut eyes your silver body floats in my mind, your liquid body boils over and I embrace this new flesh. My head in the darkness, frontwards backwards all around appears as a mixed puzzle scattered and unkempt. I have ability to shuffle thoughts out of the freeway and onto the floor plan were buyers can decipher my joys and pains; selecting only the casualty's which comfort there desired courting sorrows; lead me first from fear and later wishing for more release then into grander tyco toying dreams. This cost to pays none for return. If holding this great prize could only be done without traces of finger prints, I would for-go these errors by my suitors. Whom now holding savings time spin these seasonal changes and extinguish my newest wedding day feeling. Men dig for treasure in the earth and sweat out the only prize worth taking. However these rabbis pirates smitten there teeth and gnash lastingly for a treasure of air and ore. ------------------------------------------------------------ ------6-10-07-----------------As waves flow from wavelength to wavelength. Set upon a stream of waves, water sitting momentarily idle, then begins with each passing wave to current away and off to mix within other particles of water. However, water being individual and isolated as each tangible droplet is, still remains connected to the mass. Water flows, currents and mixes as one whole. Once any unit finds a solemn body it will bind and remain with the family, until an outside alternate force compels it away, leaving and again continues willfully to journey solo. Water like Humans will be forever in constant limbo of this family connection, seeking unity. Humans struggle more than water to stay connected, because we as people suffer with individual emotions. Our abilities to discern situations or to reason, clashes with our injured emotional state of being. We live by moments of choice. Water has a soul purpose, one individual method cycle. To exist and supply to the whole, and if reacted upon will conform to the resource which compels it's needing. Water will always bind to water. The measure of man will always be twined with emotions, levels of hatred, yet some reasoning from joy. Simply, humans counter other humans. Friction is the force between me and you. The alter-force is each individual. We willfully never can be one, when humans separate by egotisms, idiosyncrasy's, and attitude. Flavors which make beautiful individuals tender, also cause a static separation from the whole. Like pastels derive and elude it's primary, an individual sinks quietly unheard away from the universal heard. Water is pure, singing and crackling to the rocky shore in ecstasy. We are God's tinkering tears scattered throughout earth. Tears of joy and his pains. Rain individually can put down flames; when united as one; and fire cannot be derived inside a body of united water....................................................... ................................... 7-22-07.......................------------- You have challenged me to my limits,----- This time is passing.----- Goodbye to yesterday----- Fair well sleeve tugging today,----- Peace lies tomorrow.-----The simple pleasures of life----- The immaculate you cannot live without----- You feel cut from, slighted, shortened.----- Loss of, the separating from ----- The one you love----- The angel you've left in life.-----...............................!My life is Intentional......J.A. ----------------------------------around-6-7-06------------- ----------------------------------------------Everything is a darkness. A small swing outside a cold house. The bestowed emotions displayed. The right way to think, find a super physician. Pray that God will guide you. Tired; walk sluggish, and eyes blink abandoning thoughts. To afraid to command a thought. Or to rashon a crystal clear correcting path. The fiercness of the imagination traveled deeper into than just a thought but, into, a creation, that exsists from a creator. A sunburst and time evens out to the truth, the life, the creation, the experiment, the curiosity of difference solved. ---------------------------------------8-20-07-------------- -----------Very tough question princess. I am afraid I don't know. I don't have the answer. I can only reason to understand that the heart is the path to wisdom and knowledge. My whole life since I was a boy, before you knew me, the man you know today has become Me by simply this. Listening for the slightest hint of God. Stopping at a moment what I'm doing to recognize the possibility of God's voice. The excitment I get to know, that this voice within might have been him this day. I always have paused to consider a whisper. Slowed my day at the murmer of a sound, to allow the focus for the opportunity to speak with or listen to my creator. I find great joy in him. Today; these seemingly shortened days; I find it more difficult to find the focus to stop and some days the desire to as well. Faith in your elder years gets closer I feel, yet foggier all the same. This is why L.A. is hard for me, between the layers of smog in the atmosphere, the choas of screaming whores and crackheads, along with the cries of helpless hurts. God can at times be the most distant. But my heart will always beat inside my chest and here I make a place for God to camp awhile, with a hopeful heart to listen to his understanding. Patience is a desicion, there is no right or wrong. The truth is what you make it. Ok my dearest and wildest cat. Tame yourself; yet at the same time roam free, we are but an escaped tribe of the past. I can't control my feelings.
Go to ImageShack® to Create your own Slideshow 12-12-07...I view myself as a man of weight amongst my people. A man with enough tonnage to hold me firm to the ground even though my nesting lies above hallow ground. To be able to extend my arms fully to God without having to envision the sky is my dream. We live inside a home amongst our home. Our lives are mirror images, repeating reflections of what we truly are. To reach the depth of my soul, my most important gift is imagination. I cannot even pretend to see the end of my life, therefore, more than ever with age, I must rely on creating my future by a mere mental painting. My world lies on canvas inside my head. The point of a triangle is the convergent of life meeting death. Two parallels of alternate countenances fighting forward bending backward to get to one infinite road. No eye sees it's end, we must yet still be bold enough to sliver into such a tiny spec with hope as our dagger, fending the universal rules and squeezing ever so kindly; like a sailor in the night, into what we sensually conclude. This knightly vision so courageously dreamed up, one loafing lie in the grass at a time.