Ever thought about the effect your willful sinning has on what Jesus went through for you? Every willful sin, that you know better, slaps Jesus in His face, spits on His sacrifice and tramples the sinless and innocent Lamb of God into the ground. Doesn’t feel good, does it? Every sin whether it be a thought , word or deed, laughs in the face of His glorious sacrifice.

Do you love Him? Truly and honestly, do you love Jesus? Then stop the habitual, willful sinning in your life and start living as a new creature, as one who supposed to recoil at the very thought of doing some of those things you do on a consistent daily basis. YOU KNOW BETTER! We have no excuse. Read Philippians 4.8 and it will tell you those things which you are supposed to think upon. It is very safe to say, that if this is the requirement for our thought life, then use it for our word and deed life as well. The flames of hell creep closer day by day and nothing but the arbitrary will of an incensed God keeps you out of them. Don’t look to tomorrow, don’t even look to later today, stop everything and repent, both saved and unsaved for your life and commit to submit to the Lamb of God Who love you enough to go through, what you see in the above picture. Don’t make His suffering be done in vain.

[8] Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.                                                            Phil. 4.8

I am getting ready to start the book i mentioned earlier–the group study book–Baaad Sheep by E Gillette–I am going to start with some questions that are in the chapter–feel free to answer if you feel comfortable–i will put my answers down in a few days–and branch it out with some of what was written in the book.
a. How has your experience with “christians’ affected your definition of true “christianity”? Do you have positve examples and or negative ones.
b. Is it easier or harder to forgive fellow believers when they hurt you than it is to forgive people in the world? Why?
c. Do you know someone who has “given up” on church, and faith in “god”? Was he or she driven out by hurtfulness.
d. Do you think it is possible to really “worship god” outside of an actual church setting?

even if you were not spiritually abuse–feel free to respond with these questions in your own experiences.
there we go–lets see where that takes us.

If by some very unlucky circumstance your body is severely burned, you have a 70% chance of dying as a result. It isn’t the burn itself that will kill you, it will be the infection-causing bacteria that gets into the burn area, then quickly spreads through your body.

This condition is considered to be nearly at the top of the list as the most excruciating death experience you could possibly have.

Good news though, some smart lady scientist from Tel Aviv University named Professor Meital Zilberman came up with a solution that may save many burn victims lives.

She hasn’t come up with a name for it yet though, so for now, I’m just going to call it Biodoodleskin.

Biodoodleskin, which mimics many of the protective qualities of human skin (sorry folks, it has no tanning ability) is applied directly over the burn area. It allows the body to expel fluids and toxins from the wound and at the same time administers the exact required dosage of antibiotics directly into the body at the wound site. “When administered at the wound, a doctor can give relatively high but local doses of antibiotics, avoiding any toxicity issues that arise when the same amount of antibiotic passes through the body,” Professor Zilberman explains.

When Biodoodleskin is no longer needed to protect the wound, it will actually then dissolve away! It is engineered to biodegrade after a controlled period of time. This important feature helps nurses avoid having to clean and redress the wound, allowing the body to heal itself.

- fighter’s outfit for female.
- bloody and dirty shirts and tops.
- wounds : scars, brands, cuts and some specials requests.
- slave’s silk for female.
- tattoos ( coming soon).

fighter, outlaw, kajira and slave, silk, wounds, tattoos, dirty shirt, bloody top, cuts, sexy, oriental, brand, outfit, roleplay, grunge, gift, medieval, survival, kilt, initial, gorean.

http://slurl.com/secondlife/Bobtail/178/243/40

I know one person who will read this–and it DOES NOT reference him in any way–but also going to take a little break from blogging—needing to deal with some personal things and i don’t want to react to them on this blog-if that makes sense.

going to step back to my poem i wrote a few days ago–IN AN INSTANT-right now so much of that fits me–wish i could write more on that here—but really can’t because i am not sure who reads this at the moment–
you go along through life–believing, learning, wondering,searching–hoping that one day you will take the right step to change from being/feeling like a lost sheep- it is so amazing how so much in your life, and or spiritual life can change in just an instant.

I put this video in another blog i wrote–but i think i am going to put it here too–used to be one of my favorite songs and i long to feel like that again.

"A collection of Gaelic proverbs and familiar phrases : based on Macintosh’s collection"

At Ease

Most wounds can Time repair;
But some are mortal  – these:
For a broken heart there is no balm,

No cure for a heart at ease –
At ease, but cold as stone,
Though the intellect spin on,
And the feat and practiced face may show

Nought of the life that is gone;
But smiles, as by habit taught;
And sighs, as by custom led;

And the soul within is safe from damnation,
Since it is dead.
Walter de la Mare

foto – bilambil cottage garden

This word is the way i learn, but also one of my biggest downfalls–both in the organization as well as now–why??? i learn mainly by visualization-memorization. If i see it in writing it is so much more real then hearing it–sitting in a lecture in college–YUCK–for me, doing it online–and actually reading the information, seeing it, etc—so much easier for me to understand, remember, etc–and that was exactly my downfall in the organization i was in—the things i signed (Contract, as well as my evaluation)–people could call me any kinds of names, bad “christian”, bad mom, fat, ugly, etc–i have probably been called worse–hearing it–honestly would go in one ear and out the other–screw them, if they don’t like me–their problem—the difference came when i visually SAW what was wrong with me—it is now in writing–i could see it—and in some cases was actually shown it in the “bible”–not only was i hearing my faults, i was seeing it, and NOW was agreeing to it–then i started questioning so much about me—

and it hinders me now–i can not visually read, look at the “bible” (for a variety of reasons)–if someone tells me the answers, truth is in the “bible” at this point does not help me much–i know that, i want that, but………… right now cant. some have mentioned hear/listen to it on DVD/CD, etc–and another thing i struggle with anyways-but learning in such a visual way–hearing it really does not help me much at this time—or hearing over and over “god” loves you i think, yeah whatever–i want to visually see the proof–not the “god” loves you and nothing else, but the proof, the writing proof if you know what i mean–i try to research different things on line here–sometimes it is good–but most of the time it is again a hinderous–because i visually see something–visually see the proof they put (right or wrong) then there goes my questioning again–i was just told this, now i read this, what is true, what is right, hence there goes the confusion.
Even when i ask questions (which i do ALOT) there are very few people i really “believe”(unfortunately until i find something online again LOL)–still want the writing-and maybe that is why i do not talk much on the phone–i try to save everything that is written to me here on line–so i can go back and read, and or visualize it later (if that makes sense)–and it.

That i guess to is a big reason why i read so many books on the subject of spiritual abuse–and write poetry.

I hope all that even makes sense, it does to me.

Rating: 4 out of 5 stars.

‘Shameful Flight’ relates the history of the final years of the British Raj in India, including the partition of India into both Pakistan (West and East) and India, and the early hostility of the two new nations destined for perpetual warfare in such regions as the Kashmir.The history of this era of political instability on the subcontinent includes all the main players from Great Britain, India and Pakistan.These main players include Winston Churchill, Viceroy Louis Mountbatten, Mahatma Gandhi, Pandit Nehru and Quaid-i-Azam Jinnah. There is not a single figure in this history of India’s partition who comes out of it in a good light, though several seem to have had very well-intentioned aims and motivations. It is the true story of lost opportunity and the devastating consequences of human pride and selfishness that have reverberated down through the decades to the present day and remain visible in the continuing clashes between India and Pakistan, as well as in the extremism expressed in both the Islamic and Hindu communities throughout the sub-continent. It is a story of perpetual tragedy and human suffering with no end in sight.

This book is extremely easy to read, passes on a wealth of historical information and whets the appetite for further research on the India/Pakistan situation. It provides enlightenment, by bringing understanding to the current political instability in both India and Pakistan, by clearly revealing the root of the problem – the manner of the birth of both nations out of British imperialism and that nation’s final haphazard departure aptly described as a ‘Shameful Flight.’ This is a great book for understanding the sub-continent and the wounds it still carries to this day.

This book was provided to me for review by Oxford University Press – www.oup.com

Bobbye and I spoke at Professional Women’s Fellowship last week. The topic was “Depression and the Holidays.” No one wants to think that the holidays could be associated with depression. We want to think that it is a time of joy and peace. However, the holidays can also be very  stressful. We already have no margin in our lives on an everyday basis and then we have to add more things in our less time schedules.

The holidays are also “remembrance markers.” In other words, if we received a great gift during a Christmas, we remember it. We might not remember which Christmas year but we definitely remember it was Christmas time. If we get into a family conflict or a death occurs during the holidays, every holiday season brings it back to mind.  Days can go by into weeks without having a remembrance marker but at the holidays, we remember the good and the bad things that have happened  during other holidays. As a result, the holidays can be painful.

So for some of us, we find ourselves needing to act happy when deep down, we are really sad. How do we deal with ourselves while having such conflicting emotional pulls?

I really believe that in order to heal from past wounds that have happened during the holidays, we have to give some constructive thought and give some carved out time to those things that have hurt us. We need the ability to take a break, sit down and reason with the Lord over them, especially during the holidays.

Bobbye was telling me the other day that she woke up at 2am to wrestle with the Lord about certain thoughts that continue to pull at her heart. She said, “I have to keep this concern close to the Lord. I have to depend on Him to work with my thoughts so I do not take this matter into my own hands.” She is a wise woman (and a good friend).

She has learned that it is not good to push down and suppress the conflicts because they will resurface. It is also not good to regurgitate your thoughts over and over or have practice sessions in your mind of what we should have, could have or would have said.  The more time we give to our own negative thoughts and incidences, the less ability we will have to reasonably make wise decisions.

Instead, we bring these things to the Lord. He is the only One who has the ability to change the situation or to change our perspective. We need to reason with the Lord until we know that our concerns are fully before Him. We need to be brutally honest with Him as He already knows what we are thinking and feeling. Then, when we get up from putting those things down, we can continue to live for Him instead of giving the time and attention to the conflict.

As the thoughts return, it is important to take it captive and say, “I have given that situation to the Lord. It is His concern now. I am choosing to trust Him.”

When I look back on my life, it has not been hassle free. I have had to deal with many conflicts and struggles as we all do. However, I can honestly tell you that the Lord has a way of working through them all if you allow Him to move in your heart and mind and you give Him time. God is on an eternal clock. He is not in a rush, not even during the Holidays.

I mean the one given when a wild animal bites you.

Never again will I play with a stray cat. Ugh. See how what creates you destroys you? All right, so my love for cats is not the sole purpose of my existence (I can hear howls of protest) but I love the feline species to bits. Though I have my own cat, I still can’t resist playing with strays. And look where that got me at last.

Rabies shots shouldn’t be something new since I’ve been bitten by a couple of stray cats before and an iguana. But I didn’t tell my parents (not so smart, I know) those things. But today, the school nurse, who had been cleaning my scratches and bites (I went to the clinic to give it a second cleaning) ratted me out to my mother. And so began my hours-long attempts to get both rabies and tetanus shots.

Needles have never scared me. What makes me sweat is those nurses who’re needle-happy. Like a needle inserted into skin isn’t a FUCKITY-FUCK-OUCH event. And really! Only two nurse have jammed with a needle painlessly. The rest were crazy, insane. One nurse even exclaimed, “Oh, see how that blue vein pulses! God, now that’s a vein that begs for a needle!” Err..thank you?

It has always been easy getting my blood for tests because my veins are quite prominent, and despite my natural tan, stand out as blue networks of blood and oxygen traversing miles and miles in my body. And yeah, the ones at the inner elbows tend to bulge. Maybe this is rare because a crowd of nurses usually gather to witness their co-worker piercing my oh-you’re-lucky-hardy-har-har-if-you-only-knew veins. I don’t understand the fascination. And I refuse to even contemplate about appreciating that because of the ugly, ugly purple bruises left in the wake of needle-happy wielders.

But the nurse who jammed me with a needle twice today takes the cake. I feel bad doing this because she was really nice about helping me out and even chased me when I went to get my tetanus shot without my record but the lady needs to practice sticking it some more. The other nurse who gave me my tetanus shot was a whiz–I felt nothing at all, though she did tell me that I might develop a fever from the shot.

With Nurse 1, she showed her sadistic potential when she gave me my skin test. I had a skin test before and it wasn’t painful though it involved a needle too. Fuckity-fuck-ouch. She told me to relax. Maybe I was tense. So i went to get my tetanus shot. Went well. I returned to Nurse 1 for my last shot and this time I yelped when she pierced my right arm. I have a mortal fear of bulging scars marring my arms. And those scars result from the careless handling of needles. Nurse 1 wasn’t careless but maybe someone should tell her that the people at the receiving end of her needle are, well, people? Not some jelly model, you know, like the ones used in CSI?

I didn’t get my rabies shots and the doctor said it was okay if I got it tomorrow. All right. It was late and being a commuter, I had no license to drive and thus, didn’t relish checking out a fourth Mercury Drug for the needed shot. You can’t just get shot once, it has to be done more than a couple of times. The clinger and the true bitch of what happened: each shot costs Php 1, 600. I’ve been told to anticipate forking over Php 7,000 pesos.

Fuckity-fuck-DAMN.

I’m thinking about doing a series on the underlying emotions that we have to heal from.  I wanted to share some raw stuff with you.  A blog series in the making.  Maybe this topic can be a help to you as I work on it further. 

 I have discovered a lot about “The Undercurrent” in my sexual recovery.  This is the stuff underneath that fuels my acting out.  It’s less about the behaviors, and more about what needs God’s healing inside of us.  The Undercurrent was a huge revelation for me.  I had tried for years to change my behaviors.  When I started looking at the stuff inside with my counselor and with my support groups, things changed. 

 Here are some emotional hurts I had to deal with:

 Anger – at my parents, my wife, my mentors, God

Loneliness – unmet needs for support, friendship, love

Sense of Rejection – old girlfriends, peers, people I trusted

Desire for Approval – wanting everyone to like me, being at peace with everyone, approval addict

Need to be Valued – loving the real me, appreciation for me as a person – flaws and all, dealing with derogatory words, low self-esteem

Feelings of Shame – feeling like I’m worthless, I’ve messed up, I can never be fixed, I am no good

Fear of Failure – the haunting worry that I will never meet the expectations of others, or my own

HURTS = WOUNDS
I am learning that when I feel hurt there is a wounding that has taken place.  It could be recent.  It could be from my childhood.  And many of them are multilayered.  I was a wounded boy.  A wounded adolescent.  And am in many ways a wounded man.  God wants to heal my wounds, and I am experiencing that. 

BEHIND EVERY WOUND IS A LIE
This is something my counselor has mentioned to me several times.  The jury is still out on this one.  But I think he’s right.  As I have explored my hurts, I have asked been coached to ask God, “What do I believe about this hurt?” and “What is Your truth about this situation?”  This type of praying and listening to God’s Spirit has been extremely helpful.

WHAT THOUGHTS DO YOU HAVE?
Q:  What emotions do you have to deal with in your recovery?

Q:  How are you finding healing?

Q:  What are you learning about healing from the deep stuff?

It’s one of these nights I need to talk about him. Again.
I’m sorry.
But you know what, I’m sick of this…planet. This world. I can’t stand another minute of being here and now. My dreams. That’s what’s ruined me.
Why did I have to be so over-natural?
Why did I have to dream…?
As I’ve stated before (see: When Did My Heart Go Missing) I’ve been having really weird dreams. Alive dreams. With him. What is he?
I came to the conclusion that he is my “soulmate”.
If that’s what I can call it.
God…it’s hard.
I know I will never be happy with normality.
All my relationships are ruined because of me looking for him in every breath, in every single moment. I miss him.
And there’s no way I can find him.
I’ve tried everything there is to communicate.
But no.
Seems that even my only talent, to search into people’s minds has shrunk with time. I want to do that again.
Sometime.
People around the world move objects with their minds, hypnotize, make things happen…. Generaly… Supernatural things. [I'm tired.]
[Can't be coherent.]
Why can’t I find my gift again?
Why did I have to overthink it?
Now I’ve lost him.
And I’m more alone than I ever was in my entire life.
Because a part of my soul is missing.
Dammit.
Drama queen all over again.
Don’t mind me.
I’ll go to sleep.
Nothing makes sense.
Nothing is worth it when I’m awake. Sleeping should be my only option. And maybe someday death. If I find the courage.
That I won’t.
Because I’m too curious for what’s gonna happen.
And because I love.
People. Around me.
I wouldn’t do that to them, right…?

Sleep.
Goodnight.

-Free…?

Dr. Hans Selye, a pioneer in helping us understand stress, once told a story about two boys who grew up in the same home with an alcoholic and abusive father.  Adulthood took them down separate paths with differing priorities and life decisions.

Many years later, both men participated in the same psychological study, though each did it separately.  In-depth interviews with each one showed just how different they had become.  One would have nothing to do with alcohol and had become an upstanding and well-respected citizen in his community.  The other had followed his father’s example and become an alcoholic with a path of destruction in his wake.

When asked what factors influenced each brother’s lifestyle, both men returned the same answer, “What else would you expect when you have a father like mine?”

It’s not what happened to you; it’s how you responded to what happened to you that has created the person that you have become.  Have you chosen to become the victim or the victor?

If you chose the victim’s role, the sooner you accept accountability for your choices, the sooner you will begin to heal.  Blame and resentment over what happened to you only gives the other person or thing a never-ending supply of power over your life.  If you chose the victor’s role, then you undoubtedly know the truth behind the maxim, “That which doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger.”

Life has many things to teach us, but we have to show up ready to learn.

wishes are called wishes
because they never come true.

Grit your teeth hard
till it bleeds.
Then move on.

Thank you, Lord, that even if people have said or done things that I cannot stop and that have started to have a negative impact upon me, Your love is sure, Your grace is sufficient and Your mercy absolute. Help me let go of the things that discourage me, and embrace the perspective of Heaven; to love everyone. Amen x

I’ve been reading my overcoming series book again and i’ve been called up on the amazing things that Jesus did for us and yet stupid me get’s concerned about a tiny little whisper which is probably even a product of my messed-up little brain. Jesus is faithful, even when we are not and weirdly there is no greater opportunity to grow in love than when you’ve been mistreated. Look at Jesus on the Cross: He asked His Father to forgive those who ripped the flesh from His back and drove the nails into His hands and he spent his last night on earth with someone who He knew would be betraying Him the next day.

How we handle rejection reveals whether we have truly died to self; for it’s impossible to hurt a dead man! I finally realised I was still trapped in my old ways a few weeks ago and feel like I’ve made massive steps towards dying to it but I’d be a liar if I said that I haven’t had a few spikes of paranoia return in the past few days (but not let them affect me in the way I ordinarly would – I’ve already sought Jesus out about them and told Him to help me keep going so that I can mature spiritually).

In the Old T a priest was disqualified from ministry if he had ’scabs’ (unhealed wounds) [Leviticus 21:20]. The reason why was because it meant no-one could get close to him, in case they brushed up against the sore spot. It showed up in the things he said and kept him from functioning the way God wanted him to. I’m not saying if you’ve got a cut or a graze that means you’re not a Christian anymore! I’m just saying if you have an unhealed wound we tend to work out of those unhealed areas and focus on our own struggles.

God’s solution however is this: “I will restore health unto thee, and I will heal thee of thy wounds’ saith the Lord…’ Jeremiah 30:17. And remember he means both internal and external wounds here – so not just the ones on the outside which other people can see. God wants to heal you, so that through you, He can reach out and make others whole. Let Him do that for you today.

this isa little story i found that i posted in another blog–but i think this fits everyone in a spiritual abusive situation as well–so i decided to share it here to. May we all find hope, peace, something, to fill these holes.

THE FENCE (author unknown)
(Author unknown)

There was a little boy with a bad temper. His father gave him a bag of nails and told him to hammer a nail in the back fence ever time he lost control. The first day the boy drove 37 nails into the fence. then it gradually dwindled down. He discovered it was easier to hold his temper than to drive those nails into the fence. Finally, the day came when the boy didnt lose his temper at all. His father suggested that the boy now pull out one nail for each day that he was able to hold his temper. The days passed and the young boy was finally able to tell his father that all the nails were gone. the father led his son to the fence.

“You have done well, but look at the holes in the fence,” he said. “When you say things in anger, they leave a scar just like the nail holes. You can put a knife in a person and draw it out. It won’t matter how many times you say I’M SORRY, the wound is still there. A verbal wound is bad as a physical one.”

Haha..this is the best I could come up with. Not that great but..playable.
C                   Am
It's a sunny day in heaven
                 Dm
And no one is around
               G
To open the gates
                     C
And I'm waiting for you
                   Am
My fairweather friend
               Dm
Absent in the end
               G
Absent in the end
                          C
The one thing I can count on
                   Am
Is nothing much at all
                         Dm
The one thing that I'm sure about
                          G
Is that you won't be anywhere around me when I fall
     C                       Am                           Dm
I'd like to think I wouldn't die for you, but you know I would
                          G
'Cause that's the fool I am
                          C
And that's the rule you bend
               Am
Absent in the end
   G
My fairweather friend

The one thing I can count on
Is nothing much at all
The one thing that I'm sure about
Is that you won't be anywhere around me when I fall
I'd like to think I wouldn't die for you, but you know I would
'Cause that's the fool I am
And that's the rule you bend
Absent in the end
My fairweather friend

My fairweather friend

It's a sunny day in heaven

It's a sunny day in heaven
And no one is around
To open the gates
And I'm waiting for you
My fairweather friend
Absent in the end
Absent in the end
The one thing I can count on
Is nothing much at all
The one thing that I'm sure about
Is that you won't be anywhere around me when I fall
I'd like to think I wouldn't die for you, but you know I would
'Cause that's the fool I am
And that's the rule you bend
Absent in the end
Love you only bend
Wounds you'll never mend
My fairweather friend

My fairweather friend

I peel back the gauze
And delight in the
Tug as the dried brown pulls
At the tender edges of
My wound, as I open my
Scent into the world, spill
The pungent moisture of my
Flesh into the stratosphere to
Consolidate in cumulus,
Nimbus and great towering
Anvil clouds to condensate
Against glasses of sweet
Lemonade and against car
Windows to precipitate and
Snake with all the countless
Tributaries to their parents
And to the bays and
Out into the wide unsailed
Reaches of the sea. and that
Is how I flow; a mighty
Network congealing here
And spattering livid mold
In the dark places with
The power of my ruby
Wound. All my tributaries
Find their way there, back
To the frontier of my
Generous cuts and sympathetic
Bruises, that ocean of pain
And neon memory the unruly
Vast tidal surface of waves that
Is always demanding to be
Sailed. Here in my wound I
Admit all invite all to the
Same festival of openness
The removal of butterfly
Bandages of medical tape
Of cast and splint and all
Things prosthetic until we
Proceed in a great parade
Clipping stiches and rending
Dams hollowing great canals
For our rivers for
Our mass current of
Human blood. And in the
Drain, there is poetry prodding,
Encouraging the physical
Release, confirming the
Faithful chambers of the
Heart, massaging the ventricles
And singing to the atria
And leaping with the green
Line in joyful confirmation
Of life, in primal understanding
That we beat our drums
For a future–the future of
The slain, of the wounded,
And of the God who bleeds.

Raw reality don’t stop, don’t
Stop, don’t stop, I toast
To turbulence I feeeel grit
Washed all through my life
But life–life is pressure
Saccharine blood and turbulence
The animating force of perpetual
Draw and quarter, threat,
Sin and repentance, the
True filthy God, the dust
God the endocrine nerve
Optic integumentary God,
Poetry as raw as my heart
After the sexual
Binge. I whisper to the
Swelling spirit of the weekend
On Friday night and beg for
Reality–may my heart of
Darkness be all the blacker
Against the alley lights
As I slink in search of
Of poetry everywhere in white
AM light and ridiculous pop
Music but where I am and
How my glands squelch
Uniquely for every posture,
Push some new chemical to
Synthesize whatever is before
Me. To exist as an organism
Constantly under pressure the
Warring appetites and the sugared
Tension the satisfying meaty
Yield of tension in all things,
The tide, my body, my heart,
My relationships, new neurotransmitters
For every set of eyes,
Some like candy and others
Like the slow painful poison
Of regret.

Become fresh. Reek like an
Open wound again in all
Its shameless glory to be
Living and gaping to
Wrinkle in pink around
Your festering scab, to
Hiss white like peroxide
In contact with the
Strawberry. Be forearms
And the slip of tendons
Beneath skin–be the leaping
Heart of a panic attack
Racing on the naked
Page and sweating cold
Against all the heat of
Adolescence. Be the silent
Tongue that speaks in saliva
And french kisses over rose
Adorned restaurant tables
Against suns that look and
Taste like neon tangerines
Because we all wish we
Could just be the sunset,
To bleed citrus and
Weep nothing but flames.

Poetry like vomit you are
Mine again I cannot hold
You in when the bellies
Of the distant clouds are
Painted like tangerines and
All along the watchtower the
Agents of summer flash their
Mermaid tails against
The glowing dusk. Where do
I put all the fury brimming
Inside of me? Where do I
Channel my manhood if not
Through rock and roll and the
Holy spirit? Hendrix and
Scripture in some unthinkable
Alliance some stew of all that lifts
My soul, all that causes my
Heart to flit behind my ribs
Like a clipped canary in
It’s wire prison. I have all
To give! Like a house burning
Down I yield great streaks,
Tongues of essence in
Pillars against the wide
Jaws of night. I have all
To give and nothing to lose
I have my blood to give the
Earth back her blush and
Irises to help Venus keep
Shining. I have words wildly
Clumsy and ill charged but
True, ignorant but true,
Marginal, obsolete, the
Native cry of freedom in
And over the trees and
Plains launching forth from
My canary heart, vaulting
In ceaseless thick streams
Up up up until history
Leaps like the undertow and
Drags me into the black sea
With all the rest of the
Fleeting infant world.
And I am eager and
Unashamed to give all of
My ripping fury of redemption
To her and know
Christ my tiger, yes Christ
Christ Christ so the rocks
Will never have to say it though
They could. Jesus Jesus Jesus
So the wind may hold its
Tongue if it wants: here I
Go a-vaulting by the holy propulsion
Of the spirit like a human
Cannonball to his throne.

I remember slipping effortless
Past all the thorns into the
North Carolina wild. I guided
The briers out of my path
In gentle understanding
The way a man moves his
Wife’s hair out of her face
And behind her ear.
Brier patches–the most fun
To navigate: blood and pain
On the line real life to
Lose if the calibration of
Your movements is not as
Controlled as a darter fish,
Unhesitating, forgiving the
Thorns their plight much
Like the predators knowing
The wonder of undiscovered
Blackberries and wild roses.
I don’t regret
A bit of the savagery, to spend
Saturday penetrating past the
Thorny patches to where the
Creek bed is, except that
I had worn even less to feel
More of the thorns and know
More of the sun, know myself
More in the soil, in the
Brave youth that drove me
Into the wilderness.
There is a special place, but
You must feel earth on your
Elbows to get there, you have
To feel the thorns combing
You hair as you crawl to
Find the clearing, the natural
Spread of the branches to
Where the afternoon shares
Her lazy heat in passive
Doses. And it is all to know
How Magellan slept, what
The five o’ clock sun looked
Like to him after laboring
Toward the unforgiving edge
Of the earth. I know it was
Orange, slanted in an
Unexplainable way and like
A mother’s voice that wafts
Through the freshly chopped
Way to remind you of
Dinner, dad’s lawnmower tipped
On its side, caked with
Green and pouting with
The odor of gasoline. All these
Things were the offspring of
Magellan’s sun to me: having
Gone deep and known myself,
Retraced the new road at
The sound of mom’s voice and
Found dad’s lawnmower like
A prophet perched to tell of
The old world. Young and in
Carolina I was Magellan
Unshackled on the open sea.

I become the wound
In the barrenness of my
Room I become the fresh
Bleed on the dead nights
That flows in endless
Nostalgic energy as the
Dawn of adulthood
Fights its way to the surface
Of my sturdy body. But it
Is as self-explained as
Harmonicas, as weeping
Blues through an Alabama
Summer. And I know again
That every man has his
Embers–I know because
I am, because I never quit
Believing in the sufficiency
Of the uncollegiate of the
Furnace of the Maker
Wherever it is found in
Men who love freedom
Who love the tough yeild
Of their hands and the
Satisfaction of leaving
Black suds puckering on
The bar of soap before
Dinner. I believe in the
Way my arm feels tight
Around the small of
Her back, the bodily
Syntax as we slightly collide.
I love the fabric
Of sundresses, the way
They leave the skin so
Close, teasing just beyond
The stitch. I cannot explain
How these are connected with
Harmonicas and dirt suds but
There is something there as
Sure as America, as sure as
Saxophone in the ballad of
Eternal youth, moving and nodding
In the same flow
Of nostalgic energy. I
Remember it all–in the
Still of my room I become
The wound again,
Weeping scarlet for every
Day gone, for sundresses
And dark suds sliding down
To meet the soap dish. God
Help us when we are empty
When all we can feel inside
Are the fine extremities
Of our ribs and nothing
More soft–no tongue
Beyond the teeth no
Vigilant pulminary system,
Only the jaws of what it
Means to be flesh, when
The lips of beauty are chapped
Against the dry teeth and
The hyenas sniffle in the
Outback and sense the
Exaggeration of the red lining of
Our eyeballs. They come for
Sundresses, to taste the
Sweet meat of saxophones that
Binds our ribs together. And
I give myself to them, I pant
And press the blood into their
Nostrils, I become the
Scavenged, the open
Wound in the still of my
Room–because I believe
In the perseverance of harmonicas
In their full and free prophecy.