Psalms 1:5 (Love Hurts)


“Therefore the wicked shall not stand in the judgement”

I’m walking, and thinking, well yes, hurting. Between us, I’ll tell you, I’m feeling a little judged. It’s like receiving punishment from a parent, and the parent says, “I do this out of love”. Easy for them to say. “Love Hurts”. The woods seem darker these days, swallowing sparrows, a dark Sheol surrounds life. “Love hurts”. You who have wisdom to hear, listen, you will know. It’s painful, to know sadness. It’s much more so to not! “Love hurts”.

The sad side makes me stronger, I’ve always thought it would, from deep dark pages of my mind, arises a joy from dark woods. Is my inner man a felon, without his civil rights? Could be I regret my choices, and I birth my favor to the night? Oh but look upon the history of my shadows, those without great sight, fallen places I dared to venture when I knew something wasn’t right. What is spirit if there is no guidance, what is soul if no pain, somewhere in that dark mystery, a symphony regains. Blessed be compassion for the sinner, Gloria to the joy of fallen man. Somewhere, on this settled road that’s murky, Adonai made me a man. Yep it was in the dark Sheol of reason, joy placed in me a plan.

And I say rise like the sand in a Mohave storm, take that joy from your darkness born, introduce yourself as a fallen man, and know G_D. Woman, take yourself to the hurricane, discover birthing spirit, and know it’s pain, believe in yourself that which was dead, take your joy from darkness, where in Sheol you bled. It is a much harder path that you take, but be glad.

I think it probably has been a question all my life, to watch a generation skip along, without strife. To watch so many people claim to be blessed, without confrontation or a financial mess. They seem to pass by without any pain, along the freeway of life their breath filled with gain. A place along life’s tide without incident, something that history, finds it cannot represent, there has never been such a time with glamour spent. But let me say this from my fallen place, blessed is the man who knows pain, Gloria to the joy of fallen man, there is no disgrace, no known explanation for the hurt who do not hide, and know grace.

And I say rise like the sand in a Mohave storm, take that joy from your darkness born, introduce yourself as a fallen man, and know G_D. Woman, take yourself to the hurricane, discover birthing spirit, and know it’s pain, believe in yourself that which was dead, take your joy from darkness, where in Sheol you bled. It is a much harder path that you take, but be glad.

I’m walking, and thinking, well yes, hurting. Between us, I’ll tell you, I’m feeling a little judged. It’s like receiving punishment from a parent, and the parent says, “I do this out of love”. Easy for them to say. “Love Hurts”. The woods seem darker these days, swallowing sparrows, a dark Sheol surrounds life. “Love hurts”. You who have wisdom to hear, listen, you will know. It’s painful, to know sadness. It’s much more so to not! “Love hurts”.

“Therefore the wicked shall not stand in the judgement” – 02.16.2016 – דָּנִיֵּאל

Psalms 1:5

Lucifer’s Opus

All Graphic rights: Socar Myles (Lucifer in The Violin)

Two armies in speed approach, one upon another, two lights between the northern skies, mine, and then one other. For every death, is thought one more, pain from one another. You dash your heel upon my shore, a shame, a shadow, a shudder! What instinct has traveled by your mind, that seeks to find its owner, have you not seen me act sublime, and turn a frozen shoulder. A thought of interest from your face, when you look at fallen grace, how it tempts you, when I cry, beguiling spirits how I lie, shining teeth so open wide, misguided thoughts in disguise. Oh song, never has a night been so long, opus in the darkness sung strong, fairer than the morning that comes, better learned of anger than none.

Two flowers bloom, in desert sand, their petals shadow each other, like balance between the sun and moon, one over lights the other. A balance beam, on one eye, continued thunder in jaded skies, why let us fear, my thoughts draw near. It could be true I love you dear, after secrets, spurned and scorned, fallen daemons from false storms. Do you not know me after time, we’ve shared proud envy, fallen pride. Across this prism, my refrain, a trial given, and still I sing, your host in heaven, Sheol knows well, I the mourning have grief to tell. That while your trumpets they do play, I’ve stolen lightning from its way, and in this opus I do sing, I am your wayward brother.

Two poles do reach across a stage, in time they seek to turn away, and if by night he calls me near, my song of death he still holds dear, an opus strung upon the lyre, of sickles burning among the tears. Yes he calls me, like chosen need, to chart the deadly with disease, a critic most willing, to stage a play, my tune in killing on judgment day. Two ones of two and then one more, a composition of just one score, a blade in light it holds more heat, an opus in heaven has one seat! – 7.17.2014 – דָּנִיֵּאל

Black Steeple


Would you take a dime or two, for good feelings follow through, would you love so far and wide, give and talk it as you lied.  Would you visit a foreign land dripping Christ upon the sand, would you feel you’d done your part stab a pagan in their heart.  Would your ego cry a tear, just to assuage your spiritual fear, would you ignore your home on fire, just to feel good in the dark?  Would your charity create on lands away while your child begs to play, would you call a dog your kid, while a human starves to live?  Would you call a tree your friend while, we near the driven end, would you discuss what you’ve done in those priceless gifts you gave, while so many lie in graves. Would you chastise those who see, while you drive them to their knees? Oh black steeple, shrine of man, fallen Balaam, curse be damned.

Would you conquer with your fear, challenge logic far and near, would you steal a holiday, call it sacred in your way. Would you worship three unknown, call each religion your own, would you call a faith a need, then define a mustard seed. Would you seek to master craft, call it healing, that never last. Would you send your cash and bread, to a people you haven’t met, while your neighbor rapes his wife, and you turn a blinded eye. Would your channel prayers of cheer to a man you really fear. Would you live a different life, one in public, one in strife, would you say you give your all, while you’re selfish pleasures call? Would you measure guilt and shame, hide your treasure in your blame, would you wear your Sunday best, ignore the burden of the rest. Oh black steeple, shrine of man, fallen Balaam, curse be damned. דָּנִיֵּאל 03.13.2014


The Frozen Covenant (A Conversation)

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It’s okay if you keep walking, or maybe you want to sit awhile.  There was a place back there away from some of the noise of traffic.  In reflection yes the day is a bit cold.  To me it signifies judgment, that’s a part of me.  Why yes I think there is need.  I like to term it as a frozen covenant I maintain.  The explanation you’re seeking is available but probably not from the source you’re seeking it from.  You seem to have a lot of questions this morning; I’ll try to answer them one by one.  The truth is you will probably find them answered if you listen a little more and talk a little less.

I like that shirt, the color looks good on you.  That Sapphire blue has always been a favorite of mine.  One of these days you might have the opportunity to experience the reality of the creation of Sapphire; I did a whole solar system one time, just Sapphire.  It looked like a trillion blue dwarf stars really nice.  Everything being in balance like it is of course I had to do another cosmic way in Obsidian.  The whole system is very glossy but really cold, much colder than the weather you’re experiencing on your little outing today.

Getting back to some of your questions, I have a couple of observations to make.  First, your wording is not really original, I hear the same words from a billion tongues, a few times each day.  Second, in your lack of originality there seems to be a lot of overuse of the words why, need and blessing.  With such simple words, I know you are expecting some very complex answers from me.  That is something that I sometimes take a little private pleasure in, that so many of my creations conjure up a mythical complexity that they apply to me.  I don’t want to get off topic here but the reality is I created the universe with one syllable sounds and words.  Yes don’t look surprised one of them was bang.

Let’s discuss this why word first, my guess is that your thinking you will have your needs met and be blessed if you know the answer to why.  I created guessing and I can see by the look on your frozen face that I’m spot on here.  Just so you know why is a topic that both compassion and judgment have been wrestling around with since the days of Eden.  Just so you don’t misunderstand as I know you are prone to do, I do take this all very seriously.

This whole raining on the just and the unjust deal that was spun around a few years ago I think you will agree has not given much comfort to my creation of which you are one.  I find that those who seldom seem to find themselves in a sticky wicket like this line of delusional philosophy the best.  It’s interesting though, let them go blind, lose a fortune, or a child, and all of a sudden it can go rain in Sheol, there is a strong need to know why.

I know you have a day to get on with, as do I, so I will not suffer you with a history on the subject at hand, although I would encourage you to delve a little deeper into the code that holds the story of Job, it might help to benefit your future or better your outlook in some surprising way.  Really scratch beyond what you think the meaning of each word is.  Apply what you learn to your life just don’t talk about it.  Just between us there are far too many talkers on this planet, and not many doers.  The balance gets a little off when things are like that.  I find religious zealots enjoy the chaos.  What would surprise them is I don’t listen to them much.

I mentioned a little earlier, when you were sneezing out by the road this outlier that I maintain called a frozen covenant.  In a nutshell, and yes I do use the term often but mostly by the acronym “NS” the frozen contract is between my compassion and judgment.  The balance that keeps both sides of the covenant out of a blood feud is the concept of honesty.

Your teeth stopped chattering which is a sign to me that I have probably hit a raw nerve.  You know a few years ago “Billy Joel: did some nice work on his song “Honesty”.  When you’re studying Job, you might want to listen to that song a few times as well.

This concept of honesty bears a truth that answers why.  The frozen covenant that I have established between Grace and Din renders that the truth my creation bears within its self and then unto others will render why invalid until old Heaven and Earth pass away.  The surprising addendum to this covenant is that the other two common words you brought into our discussion early on are also covered.  I find that the balance of honesty between my compassion and judgment also delivers blessing and fulfillment of needs.  I am glad to see you’re interested.

I like to complete these meetings we have with a little pick me up.  I want you to know that I like what I see in your future.  This honesty concept is a tightrope you’re going to have to maneuver between my judgment and compassion in order to help me fulfill my frozen covenant.  I would suggest that since you have started with me you move onto yourself and then watch out “Nellie” you’re going to practice it with others.  In the meantime you have a great walk, its cold out here so keep moving its good for the circulation.  I’ll see you this evening after dinner.

Daughter by Father (“השם is your shepherd”)

Father and Daughter

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Daughter of cuts and asylums that hold no dreams or dares.  Grey marrow that throws no shadows, by word you breathe and summon twisted cares.  Machinations of thunder, strange discourse bewitched by a jaded age, there are no answers here.  In prophecy of Yisrael your life was won in a post-adamic age, I will not surrender you here.  Your cranial utterances embrace no syllables, your wild eyes no crime.  Between gestures and blindness I hold you in my hand you will know your Father’s time.

“השם is your shepherd”

Spartan, in a bloodless age, challenged by a wayward ark!  Hereby full display this outrage born without pure spark.  Child other heavens cry, for jubilation is within contention.  This sudden strife!  Sheol will know its walls fall and in my heart, I release your fury.  Though this ground shake, I am stone, I will not be moved.  This spine taste no tissue, it creates no art.  In light and rhythm, I did fashion what you cannot bear, and while these dark knights behold the storm, you will know your Father’s care.

“השם is your shepherd”

Misplaced daughter of years and deluded schemes!  Visual design haunted by modern elusive ineffective dreams.  Infant reflection by revelation fact in distance between us beholds the storm.  Drawings by razor, character the answer between lashings sleeping in torture where you are torn.  In magic, I hold you, daughter by father, loved before you were born.  Designed by light music, artistic decree, rain it is pouring while angels cry.  In worlds that birth interest, while snakes dance in glass, your father will sing love songs your daemons will be at rest.

“השם is your shepherd”

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This December You Should Eat Candy

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For the first time, I am sensing a pox on the land.  Mind you not your ordinary lactose intolerant funk.  This pasty pale that has settled over the globe appears built of greater sinister quality.  My thoughts at first settled around a blame game kind of thing.  After all it’s that Holiday time of year.  Something about the Yule log, Hanukkah and frenzied Christians insisting that Jesus is the reason just loops people.  Dark feelings over take and well you know bring out the anti-depressants and Sigmund Freud.  This year though, this year!  How do I wrap my words into description?  That’s it I think, this year has silence.  A strange void has settled upon the populous.  A desert has leaked into the fruited fields of spirit; a great unwashed has been scrubbed clean.  That I would venture frustrates me, and yes my imaginative readers it might should bug you too.

So what we have here on my part is a bit of theological musings.  Kind of a basic eschatology of wit, that will defy most of what, my compadres slumping through this codex of mysticism believe.  Many of these wonderful folks will probably hasten to find their old VHS copy of “The Exorcist” to shake their fingers at their blurry screen when Linda twirls and say “aha, aha”.  That’s okay.  A fair season ago I hypothesized that there are more than enough thinking bigots to each build their own tower of Bable.  I just figured I would love them enough to rent them the building tools it takes.  Leasing suggestive guidance can be a lucrative business, so I have heard from many a television evangelist.  I would be remiss if I didn’t offer a little mortar to all those towers.

Have you seen many lights and decorations going up around you this year?  I did a little informal survey in our hamlet, an anecdotal investigation if you will.  It had occurred to me that after living in this neighborhood for the past four Holiday seasons, things were looking just somewhat gloomier this year.  I spread my sleuthing out to include other neighborhoods.  Low and behold, the lightless homes began to flood my imaginary list.  The lack of Santa and Rudolph, and the baby Jesus on lawns far and wide was noticeable.  The dreariness was unspeakable.  Homes seemed desolate and hollow.  Indeed it was as if a pestilence had invaded the land.

It occurred to me, as you might already be thinking that this whole rag of mine might have its basis in the meager economic times countless are facing.  The modern era of December has usually been linked closely with materialism.  Some very spiritual like language has been addressed in accordance to what little Johnnie or Helga received under the Pagan tree.  Words like blessed, joy, loved, have all been linked carefully with given and spent and the latest shiniest digital what not.  It could be true that finances play a roll here, but I don’t think so.  We have history to look to as our guide to disprove that one.  Many a homemade gift was given during the World’s great depression from 1930 to 1939.  People were living in boxes, and they still found a way to carve a manger set out of a few pieces of lye soap to display.  Millions of Jews found a way to celebrate Hanukkah while being marched to the gas chambers during the holocaust.  The survival instinct of the human race has always been stronger than having a few gold coins to call your own.

The negated today finds itself at home in the opposite of G-D.  There I wrote it.  I even gritted my teeth when I put the words down.  There had to be something there.  What I am about to write is going to illicit howls from many of my brethren.  That’s good.  You’re alive and not nullified.  The reverse of good is not evil.  The opposite of salvation is not sin.  The conflict of judgment is not compassion.  There is no conflict for they are one.  True opposition is not when the structure is destroyed to be replaced with another building.  When trepidation is replaced with apprehension you still have fear, and therefore you live, your spirit resides.  No is not opposite of yes, as any good sales representative will tell you, the cash register will not ring the sale when the prospective client says nothing.  We have acquired ground zero my crew, and the enemy of life and the goodness we all seek is nothing.  In nothing is where real abandoned of Sheol reside.  It is the eye of the soul that has been at long vanquished by our civilization, and we are witness to one another of the emptiness we see.  The holiday from nothing has retreated.  The Mid Winter Solstice finds itself changing clothes under the stealth gaze of electronic ghost and weapons, for they see only, but they are nothing in the performance of logic, in the death of the living that they seek.  Nothing has sought to cleanse the law of something.

This December you should eat candy.  This holiday you should sing to your G-D in a minor key.  In the night of the twenty-first you should burn incense and dance naked like perhaps the Druids did before the North Sea.  You should carve your manger out of pieces of lye soap, and celebrate what a wonderful nativity you see.  Hanukkah sweet Hanukkah, it is the Assembly of Yisrael’s time to turn and harvest the tree.  It is an end of time it is a beginning of time.  While we celebrate, the real eternal will change the laws, and that candy you taste will harmonize your being with a glow in your soul that is something free. – DS – 12/12/2013