200 Years (Every Praise)


“The average age of the world’s greatest civilizations has been 200 years. These nations have progressed through this sequence: From bondage to spiritual faith; From spiritual faith to great courage; From courage to liberty; From liberty to abundance; From abundance to selfishness; From selfishness to apathy; From apathy to dependence; From dependence back into bondage.”-Alexander Fraser Tytler

(Every Praise)

Now oh Judea before what rides, a strain of white lightning across the Galilee sky. G_D of all your mercy before you I rise in every praise.

200 years of lies and scorn, against the better reasons we all are born, how will we rise to greet the day from years of nightmare, of nuclear decay. 200 years of crazy thoughts, anarchist dreams of the fiddler’s knot, of that purgatory that knows no end, a socialist dream, a socialist sin. Where are you when black shirts come, to deliver your daughters to prosecute your sons. Know it now, know it true when they come for the weakest, they come for you. Oh believer, oh my heart, know thy love when all this starts. Know thy faith, honest true, what is forever starts in you. 200 years a circle starts, look toward the future is it dark? Clap your hands is it still dark?

If I had a telescope, in that saw real time, I would train it skyward and look for the shine. I would send it forward through present gloom, 200 years beyond our ruin. What would I see, what would I know? Would we be mortal, or demons without a soul? Would we still dance, or move around, would we have ego’s or would we be a part of a collective sound? For the want of an answer then I pray, for the need of a vision I turn my back on this day. For an open conversation I kneel and I say “YOU are my G_D”. For an open conversation I kneel and I say “YOU are my G_D”.

200 years of going before the storm, finding you in lightning in a different form. Finding you in weakness when I cannot see there you are in all that I believe. Night birds calling before the end of time, plague and persecution from what we thought was kind. Not an ideology or personal belief there you are. Going forward now from way back then. 200 years backwards and 200 till then, you are light eternal, the better of sin, you are every praise. Now oh Judea before what rides, a strain of white lightning across the Galilee sky. G_D of all your mercy before you I rise in every praise.

200 years of what we are. Bowing in our terror of what we see afar, every cloud, every thought, every praise. Oh, my creator of thought and psalm, oh my creator of thought and dream, bring me to you where I can see. Where I can see. Every praise of thought from inside of me, past present future to the ides that be. 200 years that goes beyond me, let light be. Every revolution before the dawn, sing hallelujah our inward song, oh my little children that our yet to be. Sing every praise. Sing every praise.

(Every Praise)

“I said it in the darkness, as the change flew under head. G_D is not changing, and neither is he dead.” – 08.17.20 – דָּנִיֵּאל

 

Sing (The Eternal)


Psalms 101: 1 – A Psalm of David. I will sing of mercy and justice unto thee, O Adonai, will I sing praises.  

And under Jacob’s ladder, and upon the eternal I will sing!

From the emptiness of a voided desert place, you bring those notes that most would think insane, and in my death of these old spirits, that which would bring me pain, I sing!  In Deuteronomy’s darkness, in requiting insanity, I sing, better when I lie naked with these things, still you say, unto me let your eternal soul sing!

You have summoned me from the Colorado, from Burlington to Cortez on shades of gray. I am born upon the plains, and everything around me sings, and so I sing. From the depths of my drunkenness I will sing, everything surrounding me can proclaim, yes it can proclaim! Everywhere around me in the prairie to the mountains fill it with your grace, Hashem, you are eternity, you are my madness, you are my light and in your universal confusion, oh ancient of days I sing. A plus and an equal has always been misplaced, for algebra, would teach us, that a proper equation would bring us the answer to all things. For you have subtracted me into the end of days, but still I will sing. For G_D of everything, you have raised me Damien high, to rise above the angels, the son of the morning star, above all darkness I am crossed in lightning, and by your will, oh Adonai I will sing. Death cannot stop me, I will sing. Bones all around me, still Elisha who sets my feast, says in languages so old, oh Daniel sing.  In El your countenance sings!

You have given me a highway that always follows north, to the snow, to the judgment of the long-forgotten kings. And when you gave me leave by your wavering northern lights lace, you instilled within me a rebellion, that says still sing. For you are my creator, not a ghost on a cross, or a savior filled with blood filled things. You are the wind of Pan upon my Hebrew wings, you are not textbook, you are the G_D of my everything. My everything!

So, you raise me like the phoenix, bless my troubles anyway, and I praise you for the trouble, I bring my magic down to sing. And when you raise me from the brokenness, my teeth gritted in pain, I will sing, for you are my everything. My commandment, you are the is, you are blessed beyond my jagged scars, I am your voice, you are my song my Hashem, I will sing. I will sing!

For G_D of everything, you have raised me Damien high, to rise above the angels, the son of the morning star, above all darkness I am crossed in lightning, and by your will, oh Adonai I will sing.

From the emptiness of a voided desert place, you bring those notes that most would think insane, and in my death of these old spirits, that which would bring me pain, I sing! Deuteronomy’s darkness, in requiting insanity, I sing, better when I lie naked with these things, still you say, unto me let your eternal soul sing!

And under Jacob’s ladder, and upon the eternal I will sing! – 07.02.2017 –  דָּנִיֵּאל

Blessings of the Writer (Psalm of Tiferet)


Poet, you chase me, contain me in a breeze. Creator, a story, that’s born in me to believe. Wonder, first footsteps, a child you must first feed. Chastened, by darkness, you lose your mortality. Listening, stirred inward, your desert takes its toll. Hear now of a fever, a story never told. Haunted, by a sonnet, of a ghost that thieved its soul. Spirit’s, drunken soldiers, the pleasure’s still untold. Firelight, in a canyon, a pen it scribes of love. Silent, before magic, the rum it finds my blood. Tattered by the critique, the one who cannot see, the blessing of the writer when lost in mystery.

I defined G-D casting lighting, felt summer when it’s cold, written of assurance, with demons in control. Old men that were Merlin, have written in my sleep. Valleys, retained by witches have sown the words I reap. Candles, in leafless forest have chased me with a rhyme. Daniel, you have dominion, Bel’s prince has summoned time. You helped me scribe the starlight, from high born desert nights. Etched my thought in shadows, and led me to the light. The ode of throne and sapphire, a dreamed that stopped my strife, the blessing of the writer, the sparks that changed my life.

Compose, now I a changeling, an alchemy not taught, a summoning of fusion, tainted by some thought. Write I, now the sound unmade, deficient of first light, reform it to its bed now made, and ask to have real sight. Honor me with writing that changes form and deed, give me striking wisdom that grows this tree of peace. Let delight seize me, and write down song in me. Constitute the psalm of sea, and let me sail away. Establish on my forehead and arm for time to be, the blessings of the writer, my familiar trapped in me. – דָּנִיֵּאל 04/16/2014



Dusk & Resurrection (Cycles)_v2


I begin here in winter, the air more translucent and conductive, breathing falling.  In dusk, my face ever changing, your cycles before me.  I stood in sapphire lightning, feeling Hashem’s love consistent in all forms of reason synthesize me.  I suppose it was want, mixed with compassion and need that just kept whispering and giving until I prayed that it would give me my leave.  Dusk is seldom a rite in the dominion of Yotsehr Or’, but on that day, that star bound shrinking day, when the winds poured with their sweet soulful waters, that interesting day, HaKadosh, Baruch Hu kissed my mouth with life and made me, there was dusk, sounding twilight until darkness became like glass.  From my entrance dusk cries out to dusk, in answer light cries out to light and E’in Sof eternal rung unto rung I climbed and was delivered.

Ripping husk of famine, layer upon layer, it recalls me and this second time it leaves me.  Sound grows deeper at dusk, the light specters that have been playing most of the day turn their age and the sparkle in their eye settles, somewhat like watching the sand descend to its last grain in the hourglass, the window shade descending on a bright winter day.  Adon Olam,in dusk my assignment, my lasting grace.  This worn shelter you have stated, this internal wisdom you created, my delicate seed.  This is a wilderness in which you play my destiny, this bone held lodging upon sinking sand.  In unadorned razed ramparts I ask you my Emet, and with your energy, with your consideration, without pause, YHWH-Rapha you become me.  No entity, no earthbound accommodation, beyond me separation calls out to separation, in answer atom calls out to atom and HaMakom present rung unto rung I climbed and was received.

Genetic revelation, prognosis by change, a gift of resurrection, infernal insight, enflamed creation, dawn it rides hard before me, HaRachaman in mercy, aware never leaving unto you before sapphire, I am.  Electrical destiny, where you take me Ehiyeh sh’Ehiyeh, I am before me resurrection you release me to fly!  Renewal awakened, blind judgment forsaken, these questions are answered I will follow no dark prophet, let alone will you ever let me die.  Uri Gol blessed beauty in this your era, resurrection from fire, a place of your kindness, here surrounded by dross Mechayeh Metim returning forever you have given me breath.  This is thunder unrestrained by behavior, revived before Eden to see G-ds pure eyes.  In life of this Torah, a resurrection as blind calls out to blind, in answer sight calls out to sight and Tzur Israel resurrects me so that rung after rung I climb and I am born with fire in my feet, Adoshem, one G-D of creation I am resurrected free. – דָּנִיֵּאל 04/06/2014

This Passover

You tell me to look outside me this Passover, to actualize an infinite need. It seems strange, you asking me for holiness, for blessing a harvest, you of oneness, the lock of my key. A fable inside me that sparks an old story that terminates spirit if I don’t believe, a deathly hollows of blood for your glory of ransomed sinners sowed from death’s seed. You quietly whisper don’t look on that angel, that left hand of judgment that floats by your door, wait until morning to build love an altar, deliver your kindness, compassion in deeds.

You tell me to look outside me this Passover, enter a chamber that feels like a storm. In whispers of moonlight, craft of your measure, Hashem how you beg me to let you control. You built me from nothing, in thoughts of first labor, molded my lips from where angels cry. That kindness you left me to pass on forever, a definite wisdom, not held in a lie, an ember of softness that glows on forever, Tiferet Yisrael that screams when I cry. Blessing ingenious from light on forever, dealt on endeavor where destiny lies. No longer forgiven, free now forever one G-d of my story, no longer to die.

You tell me to look outside me this Passover, to swear my allegiance in scarlet laid skies. Adonai I bless you I stand now before you, and gasp at the reason you breathe through my life. The words of old scars are taken from me, incandescently you cherish me, and sing a lullaby for me to repeat. Ruach ha-kodesh you have learned to tear out my heart and I do not bleed, in the scheme of things you have dealt me the reason for why I must learn to fly. You tell me to look outside me this Passover, something loved, something new, and in this puzzle in this confusing rhyme, I find your one light. – דָּנִיֵּאל 03/29/2014

 

 

Whispers by autumn (A Prayer of New Days)


Whispers by autumn, they rise and they go, no voices just writing and bearing a witness of the light that raises my soul. Sweet gift of the union, the magic of man, the budding reunion of Torah, a kiss on my forehead and hand. You take and you sing me, like psalms of the heavens, a child’s understanding, a deep heavy rhythm, incredible numbers, the wording, for glory like comfort when sleeping in the seal when you gently pass me by. Adonai-Nissi, a breath worth chanting, a ratable cleansing, a curse or a blessing, the words are written in autumn by my hand.

Whispers by autumn, like shadows of love, your gaze in my fallen hands, suddenly, that critique so old is commanded in shades of sapphire. Scores are summoned, who will understand, impulsivity, the wind of YHWH reeling like thunder in the cortex of my passion. Now my pen dances, and will not harbor what used to be me. You will not judge me like some forlorn spirit disgraced in this electrical fallen age, rather you consider me immortal, and my sin you consider equal in phenomenon to your compassion. My autumn saves me with vespers enchanted, and in my thought I write the wonder of you.

Whispers by autumn, beholden grace in syllables reserved for the nomenclature tangled in the wakes of angels. Sight well hidden now risen, born and elaborated, given to numbers and directions, measuring figuratively by given perspectives this new temple. That building of written psalm that Teit-Vav has considered constructed under autumn sight for me. What was silent, has disappeared, a phrase believed is written living, a word holy, committed deeper than any living memory. Now invade me, cast me to that place of living, and I will praise you in rhyme. Whispers by autumn, they rise and they go, no voices just writing and bearing a witness of the light that raises my soul.דָּנִיֵּאל 03/07/2014

Praise Your Brokenness

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Breathe my name, over there in a private place.  Not to elusive or too brash, just a psalm of tenderness.  You are mine formed in Pre – Adamic rhyme, not a warrior or a test, just my praise to brokenness.  When you sigh, do not regret, take a moment to look behind, at those dreams that left your side, when your demons took your mind, when you cried and asked to die.  Here we are just G_D and man, linked together in loneliness, from the beginning of your need.  There is no creed just one promise between you and me when you finally free your light, I will praise your brokenness.

Just bargain your way from compassion let judgment rest, what you cannot seem to find, is resting in this rhyme.  Hold not, nor idolize a creature that draws your tears.  Suffer not an excitement that treasures gold, or a deceiver that shames and scolds.  That’s not my way to shame or depress, but in its time my Torah will confess, my face will turn the dye will cast, and I will offer tears of fire just to praise your brokenness.

The dance of intervening time has come, the moon has chased you to my shore.  Stand inside the place of stars, deny the sorrow of inner war.  Redeem your plan of sacred sign, delve in spirit that moves with sight, here in light you breathe your last, not by thought but brokenness.  I am not master if I deceive, I will not judge your unbelief.  I am your G_D that hides my face.  I turn to you and you are mine, and as you pass forever more, from beginning to evermore, we are two in one belief, we began as one infinity.  Breathe my name it’s all I need, just my praise to brokenness.

Scream and cry like bones when shattered, loved and hated when defenses are broken.  Something in your prayer has always set me free.  Funny this association between breathe and freedom, the joy between your loneliness and my eternal plan.  In and out of time we have clung to the last of days, and I have healed your shame.  Here in this private place, while your home grows faint and distant around you, I your G_D will take your grief and I will praise your brokenness. – דָּנִיֵּאל 02/22/2014

שבח (Praise)

 

Praise

 

 

 

 

 

I will come to you as I always do when the daemons flee while warriors surrender.  In the private place while the weeds lay waste I will seek your place of hereafter.  This sacrifice you take of me this wild place, a stronghold, this latitude this shame filled span of winter.  There are always rooms, there is always time.  There are always stars of forever.  I am diamond rough, I am song past sung, I am gift of G-d, mystic passed of pure stature.  This is ground I plow, you are ever art, you conduit time that I’m after.

I will praise you one, for one in you are, there is no three given in this capture.  Blood for soul you claim is not proper gift, no sacrifice of gift or fame, no keys of hell to seek after.  I will praise you time, in your spoken wind, those memories sin, are forgotten.  I will give you mine what time has rhymed with forgotten lies of forever.  In the oath less field, where the angels play there I spill my praise in your cavern.  There you build my thoughts and you give me sparks of your prism.  It is praise enough that you love me still when in darkness shrill I seek attention.

In the sand I paint, some forgotten ghost yet it praises your throne of volume.  There you are on high making free verbs fly in magic form and pretension.  In the wheel of time, in the birth and sigh when forgotten times are not spoken.  I will praise you high I will live and die; I will leave this offering of my banter.  When your ox and lion, guide your steed in sky, you will judge my bones in your rapture. Though this kingdom lives, though this empire cry, I will praise your gift with my laughter.

Praise the well below, where the temple glows, praise the seer of the grove living.  Praise the plains and sky, praise the day you die.  Praise all the light you are not seeing.  In the flame of hell there are shadows and bells, there are reflections of lies of hereafter, it is equal sun it is things not done, it is balance and one of this being.  In the sky that grows I will praise you so, while creation slows in your being.  I will praise you still in the end of will, for one in one is your being.  – DS 01/20/201

 

3 AM – The First Psalm

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I will write no more unless you love me, my eyes will no longer shine.  In the rain when the grey turns to white you will no longer say G-d cries.  I will kiss without feeling if you refuse to flatter me, for it is all I require.  Some host they ask for gifts of tongues I seek only your affection and careful praise when you are tired.

Your walls they have grown haughty with possessions and reverberation of noise.  Your sacrifices have turned like melted sourness your posture lacking poise.  You do not listen, when you walk, your lowered eyes negate my voice.  You lament crimes of other shadows, without seeing you miss the symphony of uttered words.  Your strange answers have become over used.

I carry fire that burns without warming, my passion cold with ice.  The scales have weights of feathers, no balance you find worthy to try.  I will laugh without smiling if you do not speak to me, for without words you are not free.  Some crosses ask for blood without pleasure, I insist only upon your reflection in knowing that I am me.

Your wilderness in G-d forms your haunting, a second of time that’s not your own.  Your world has turned my spirit to stone.  You refuse to dream of children and harvest, you summon danger and torment you cannot control.  You wake without sleeping, you make blood without purpose, you seek to beckon law that is not corporeal, and cannot be released.

Yet until now so far

I am the quintessence of your need of legitimacy, my compassion spawned on a millennium of your storms.  I descend on your thorns.  I will bathe you in solitude, I will give you even more, for sorceries and oaths not spoken I will speak your light immortal where you feel blindness no more.  A wounded darkness has fallen I will see you bleed no more.

Your love in me is law unchanging, it cannot move on the tide or rhyme.  Your focus and calm in momentum must heal my fear of our divide.  You must know my magic before first light, and dance in my temple when the moon is bright.  Your forehead and knowledge are ever before me, you are given unfettered emanation the first psalm and now judged sight.

I awoke at 3:00 last night free judged and the first psalm like flame burned in me! – DS 12/17/13