I enjoyed my time at the “Ugly Sweater Party”. I didn’t win anything but I didn’t need to. I got the opportunity to spend time with some awesome people. The Meyers are excellent hosts!
As far as good dorm stories, yours were so good, I simply couldn’t think of with any. At least not until I got in my car and drove away, then I started to remember stuff. One story in particular I will share here.
It was Christmas Eve, I came back to the dorm. There were only 3 of us who did not go see family, Chris Wolfe, Paul Spinosa, and myself. Now earlier that day, Morris Henderson and I went to do our visitations. We were visiting with a Russian family who requested that we have dinner with them. We resisted at first but I (against my better judgment) gave in and Henderson followed and we ate with this family.
Now I’m back at the dorm and Wolfe got a turkey from work. He went online at the library and downloaded a recipe on how to “smoke a turkey”. He spent all Christmas Eve night smoking it. On Christmas Day I got up and he was finally done and he showed it to me. This was the blackest turkey I had ever seen in my life. I mean, leather jacket black. It was … buh-lack!
I didn’t make fun of him. In fact, I asked him if I could have a slice. He served me up a slice. Turned out the skin was just black. The flesh underneath was a healthy edible color and it was delicious!!! I know, right!? It had a wonderful smoked flavor! Then Brother Spinosa came downstairs and saw it. He clearly didn’t want any and was very skeptical of it.
Here’s where it got interesting…A knock came on the door. I answered it (I think) and it was Morris Henderson. The first words out of his mouth were,
“Are you throwing up yet”?
Naturally I said, “No. Why”?
He explained his suspicions. That we both ate with that Russian family the day before, therefore, if he was sick and projectile vomiting everywhere then surely I was too. I hadn’t. So he went back to his dorm.
As soon as he left and I closed the door, I went straight to the bathroom and projectile vomited myself! It was terrible!! It started coming out of both ends!! Worst Christmas Day ever!
So now I’m sitting in the living room of “The Coop” trying to catch my breath thinking, “Make it stop! Make it stop!!” Then I run to the bathroom again then come back.
Now I notice these two looking at each other and avoiding eye contact with me. Wolfe felt bad. He looked dejected and downcast. Spinosa looked worried and they kept speaking in hushed tones. Finally Spinosa spoke to me.
“Grant, did you eat some of Wolfe’s turkey”!?
Not sure where he was going with this I said, “Yes, I did”.
“SEE WOLFE!? I TOLD YOU!! YOUR TURKEY MADE HIM SICK”!!!
I actually had to laugh at this point but I explained to them both that I was sick for another reason, which I shared with Henderson that night. He was RIGHT! Eating with that Russian family made us both sick.
Neither Wolfe nor Spinosa could be fully convinced. Spinosa never had any of the turkey. Wolfe never cooked another turkey that I am aware of and when I do visitations and people offer me food my answer is emphatically “No thank you”!!!!!!
Saturday, December 13, 2014
Tuesday, September 23, 2014
This Morning’s Epiphany 9.23.2014
I had an epiphany this morning. It is such that I want to write it down and place it upon my blog so that I may go back and read it and remember it. When I graduated New Testament Christian Seminary, my class’ title was Ministers of Truth. I loved that title and wanted to live up to it. I’ve never forgotten how it made me feel when Pastor Davis pronounced this title upon us. The sheer aptness, the incomparable appropriateness of the title, was exactly the theme of my four years of study, of everything my teachers drove home to us. This is the truth and we are ministers of that truth!
Bible College did not make me a bible scholar. It only prepared me to become one. Something I am still working on becoming til this day. I definitely have a long way to go. In that journey I have focused on many things in the bible. Things I understood immediately (thought I understood anyway) and the things I read and did not understand but felt strongly about.
One of those things can be found in Revelation 3:17-18, “(17)… Because thou sayest, I am rich, and increased with goods, and have need of nothing; and knowest not that thou art wretched, and miserable, and poor, and blind, and naked:
(18) I counsel thee to buy of me gold tried in the fire, that thou mayest be rich; and white raiment, that thou mayest be clothed, and that the shame of thy nakedness do not appear; and anoint thine eyes with eyesalve, that thou mayest see…”
I never really understood this verse of scripture until today. I found myself to be in the case of verse 17, but wanting to be in the case of 18. The question arises, how does one buy gold tried in the fire; and that white raiment to clothe oneself in so that the shame of our nakedness isn’t showing? (Nothing is more embarrassing than a wardrobe malfunction in public) How do we obtain that eye salve to anoint our eyes so that we can see properly with our spiritual eyes?
I’ll tell you how and with what! The currency is our faith! The transaction is endurance!! We live our lives serving God, walking by faith. When things come our way to test that faith, we bare them, we endure them. We resist the devil and he is forced to flee from us. Every time the devil flees, every time our faith holds out, we earn that fire tired gold! Our garment remains white. Our eyesight has been anointed with that eye salve that causes us to see more clearly what is of God and what isn't. We are less concerned with the material world and more concerned with the spiritual! We can clearly see right from wrong and are able to make the choices that better affect us both spiritually and physically.
We all know how God makes a definite difference between the carnal man and the spiritual man. We know how God feels about carnality!
[Romans 8:7, “…Because the carnal mind is enmity against God: for it is not subject to the law of God, neither indeed can be…”]
God hated Esau but loved Jacob!
[Malachi 1:2-3, (2) “…I have loved you, saith the LORD. Yet ye say, Wherein hast thou loved us? Was not Esau Jacob's brother? saith the LORD: yet I loved Jacob, (3) And I hated Esau, and laid his mountains and his heritage waste for the dragons of the wilderness.]
What was wrong with Esau that caused God to hate him? I believe it was his carnal mindset! He only cared for the world in which he lived. He cared more about his life than his life as it pertains before God. He was in line to receive a blessing from his father, (his birthright) that would make him the physical and spiritual leader of his people, yet he sold it all to his brother for little more than a bowl of beans.
[Genesis 25:30-34, (30) “…And Esau said to Jacob, Feed me, I pray thee, with that same red pottage; for I am faint: therefore was his name called Edom.
(31) And Jacob said, Sell me this day thy birthright.
(32) And Esau said, Behold, I am at the point to die: and what profit shall this birthright do to me?
(33) And Jacob said, Swear to me this day; and he sware unto him: and he sold his birthright unto Jacob.
(34) Then Jacob gave Esau bread and pottage of lentiles; and he did eat and drink, and rose up, and went his way: thus Esau despised his birthright.]
He despised his birthright. That which God would have given him, which was rightfully his, he despised it. What was the end result? He still became a mighty people, but God still laid waste to his habitation. His carnality caused God to hate him.
I don’t want God to hate me. I want God to love, adore, and treasure me! …and I want to live up to that, WHATEVER IT TAKES!!!
So I’ll humble myself. I’ll accept whatever humiliation comes my way…but at the end of the day, I will bow my head low to the ground and call Jesus Christ my Lord, my savior, my Master!
{Thank you Jesus and God the Father for it is through your mercy and grace that I am saved and by your grace that you allowed me to happen upon this epiphany this morning. Help me to give more attention to myself as it pertains to you and your will for my life and those around me!}
Bible College did not make me a bible scholar. It only prepared me to become one. Something I am still working on becoming til this day. I definitely have a long way to go. In that journey I have focused on many things in the bible. Things I understood immediately (thought I understood anyway) and the things I read and did not understand but felt strongly about.
One of those things can be found in Revelation 3:17-18, “(17)… Because thou sayest, I am rich, and increased with goods, and have need of nothing; and knowest not that thou art wretched, and miserable, and poor, and blind, and naked:
(18) I counsel thee to buy of me gold tried in the fire, that thou mayest be rich; and white raiment, that thou mayest be clothed, and that the shame of thy nakedness do not appear; and anoint thine eyes with eyesalve, that thou mayest see…”
I never really understood this verse of scripture until today. I found myself to be in the case of verse 17, but wanting to be in the case of 18. The question arises, how does one buy gold tried in the fire; and that white raiment to clothe oneself in so that the shame of our nakedness isn’t showing? (Nothing is more embarrassing than a wardrobe malfunction in public) How do we obtain that eye salve to anoint our eyes so that we can see properly with our spiritual eyes?
I’ll tell you how and with what! The currency is our faith! The transaction is endurance!! We live our lives serving God, walking by faith. When things come our way to test that faith, we bare them, we endure them. We resist the devil and he is forced to flee from us. Every time the devil flees, every time our faith holds out, we earn that fire tired gold! Our garment remains white. Our eyesight has been anointed with that eye salve that causes us to see more clearly what is of God and what isn't. We are less concerned with the material world and more concerned with the spiritual! We can clearly see right from wrong and are able to make the choices that better affect us both spiritually and physically.
We all know how God makes a definite difference between the carnal man and the spiritual man. We know how God feels about carnality!
[Romans 8:7, “…Because the carnal mind is enmity against God: for it is not subject to the law of God, neither indeed can be…”]
God hated Esau but loved Jacob!
[Malachi 1:2-3, (2) “…I have loved you, saith the LORD. Yet ye say, Wherein hast thou loved us? Was not Esau Jacob's brother? saith the LORD: yet I loved Jacob, (3) And I hated Esau, and laid his mountains and his heritage waste for the dragons of the wilderness.]
What was wrong with Esau that caused God to hate him? I believe it was his carnal mindset! He only cared for the world in which he lived. He cared more about his life than his life as it pertains before God. He was in line to receive a blessing from his father, (his birthright) that would make him the physical and spiritual leader of his people, yet he sold it all to his brother for little more than a bowl of beans.
[Genesis 25:30-34, (30) “…And Esau said to Jacob, Feed me, I pray thee, with that same red pottage; for I am faint: therefore was his name called Edom.
(31) And Jacob said, Sell me this day thy birthright.
(32) And Esau said, Behold, I am at the point to die: and what profit shall this birthright do to me?
(33) And Jacob said, Swear to me this day; and he sware unto him: and he sold his birthright unto Jacob.
(34) Then Jacob gave Esau bread and pottage of lentiles; and he did eat and drink, and rose up, and went his way: thus Esau despised his birthright.]
He despised his birthright. That which God would have given him, which was rightfully his, he despised it. What was the end result? He still became a mighty people, but God still laid waste to his habitation. His carnality caused God to hate him.
I don’t want God to hate me. I want God to love, adore, and treasure me! …and I want to live up to that, WHATEVER IT TAKES!!!
So I’ll humble myself. I’ll accept whatever humiliation comes my way…but at the end of the day, I will bow my head low to the ground and call Jesus Christ my Lord, my savior, my Master!
{Thank you Jesus and God the Father for it is through your mercy and grace that I am saved and by your grace that you allowed me to happen upon this epiphany this morning. Help me to give more attention to myself as it pertains to you and your will for my life and those around me!}
Tuesday, August 19, 2014
Dreaming In A Docile Society
I had a weird dream last night. I dreamed that some associates and I were investigating a mountain Home. The house was built into the mountain. We discussed living there, you know, the pros and cons. Pros, we could bring livestock up there and raise them. Also, it’s securely set in the mountain and is a basically a mansion. On the downside, or cons, an earthquake that could bring the mountain structure down, not to mention a correctly placed missile.
While we examined the place I told one of the guys in my party that I recognize this place. I recognized it because he had sent me there to do a job once when we worked together (he was the QA guy and I was the installer). The area I installed seem so big and wide now, and I wondered what the owners had done with the place. They, clearly, had abandoned it. Even left behind some old cars, but one of them was new enough that I was reasonably sure that it worked. Perhaps in their retreat, they had no time to get to the vehicle.
While we examined the place, a space ship flew overhead. From the shape of it it didn’t look as if it could fly, yet it did and the size of it was…disconcerting. What came next was just as bad. A horde of portly, older women marched on our position. These women all looked the same leading me to the conclusion that they were clones. They had an aesthetically, non- threatening persona, that is until they were within 20 feet of you. Then their malicious intentions were clear. They pulled out these knives that looked like glass shards and began to attack us.
Even though I was a US Marine, I hate violence. My mom in teaching me how to deal with bullies unwittingly made me a pacifist. It wasn’t until later that I learned that sometimes you have to fight. This was one of those times. As the clone got close, she drew her glass knife, yelled some unintelligible battle cry and attacked. I don’t know what I was expecting because I didn’t immediately move to defend myself. Once I had been cut, however, I moved to defend myself. Years of martial arts training came back to me in a flash as I moved without thought. I disarmed one and took her down. Then another, and another. In an instant I had a glass knife and I was the aggressor. I remember grappling one clone and stabbing her repeatedly in her midsection, way more than necessary to take someone down. No blood. Weird.
The next thing I know we were back in the city. We were in some sort of hospital or medical facility. What I haven’t shared with you yet is that this dream was apocalyptic in nature. Our government made a deal with the devil. They got access to alien technology beyond mankind’s imagination and the aliens got us. I suspect that when our world leaders realized what they really got themselves into, it was too late. I remember thinking something along the lines of where was God in all of this? I wondered if Jesus had already returned for the ones who were worthy and I was deemed unfit to go and had to stay here on a planet whose social system had clearly imploded in upon itself and the replacement rulers were content to treat the rest of us like fodder, meat for the grinder, game legally expendable at their slightest whim.
We tried to quietly leave the hospital. We pressed the button for the elevator only to discover that it doesn’t work. In a new facility like this? Clearly someone wanted us to stay right where we were. I don’t know how we escaped the mountain retreat, nor do I remember how we escaped that medical facility. I do know I ended up in a friend’s house. His mom was just an innocent bystander in this. I did not tell her that I was being pursued. Suddenly her power did not work in her apartment. I knew they were coming, be it for me or for us. When they arrived, I was in the bed room trying to think of an escape route. I found one, the way I came in. I realized as they went through out the apartment and finally settled in the bedroom I was hiding in but pretending that I was where I was supposed to be, they drilled us with questions. While I got suspicious glances, I took the opportunity to move around them letting them believe I was cooperating with their “inspection” of the premises. I removed my belt wrapping it around my fist so as to use the buckle as a bludgeon. I leaned against the door jamb, my posture clearly saying, “Your move”.
Everything that happened after this was fuzzy. We were on the run. People helped us but they did not get involved. It was as if they had accepted this new society as normal. Like birds trapped in a cage too long, they accepted their fate without a fight, without a struggle. I wonder if something was being done to them, fed to them to make them so…docile. After all, this was America! Our nation was born out of the fires of revolution and rebellion! Somewhere, someone convinced the whole country, the whole world to just lay there and take it. But there was a few of us who could not accept that. Mind you…this was just a dream.
While we examined the place I told one of the guys in my party that I recognize this place. I recognized it because he had sent me there to do a job once when we worked together (he was the QA guy and I was the installer). The area I installed seem so big and wide now, and I wondered what the owners had done with the place. They, clearly, had abandoned it. Even left behind some old cars, but one of them was new enough that I was reasonably sure that it worked. Perhaps in their retreat, they had no time to get to the vehicle.
While we examined the place, a space ship flew overhead. From the shape of it it didn’t look as if it could fly, yet it did and the size of it was…disconcerting. What came next was just as bad. A horde of portly, older women marched on our position. These women all looked the same leading me to the conclusion that they were clones. They had an aesthetically, non- threatening persona, that is until they were within 20 feet of you. Then their malicious intentions were clear. They pulled out these knives that looked like glass shards and began to attack us.
Even though I was a US Marine, I hate violence. My mom in teaching me how to deal with bullies unwittingly made me a pacifist. It wasn’t until later that I learned that sometimes you have to fight. This was one of those times. As the clone got close, she drew her glass knife, yelled some unintelligible battle cry and attacked. I don’t know what I was expecting because I didn’t immediately move to defend myself. Once I had been cut, however, I moved to defend myself. Years of martial arts training came back to me in a flash as I moved without thought. I disarmed one and took her down. Then another, and another. In an instant I had a glass knife and I was the aggressor. I remember grappling one clone and stabbing her repeatedly in her midsection, way more than necessary to take someone down. No blood. Weird.
The next thing I know we were back in the city. We were in some sort of hospital or medical facility. What I haven’t shared with you yet is that this dream was apocalyptic in nature. Our government made a deal with the devil. They got access to alien technology beyond mankind’s imagination and the aliens got us. I suspect that when our world leaders realized what they really got themselves into, it was too late. I remember thinking something along the lines of where was God in all of this? I wondered if Jesus had already returned for the ones who were worthy and I was deemed unfit to go and had to stay here on a planet whose social system had clearly imploded in upon itself and the replacement rulers were content to treat the rest of us like fodder, meat for the grinder, game legally expendable at their slightest whim.
We tried to quietly leave the hospital. We pressed the button for the elevator only to discover that it doesn’t work. In a new facility like this? Clearly someone wanted us to stay right where we were. I don’t know how we escaped the mountain retreat, nor do I remember how we escaped that medical facility. I do know I ended up in a friend’s house. His mom was just an innocent bystander in this. I did not tell her that I was being pursued. Suddenly her power did not work in her apartment. I knew they were coming, be it for me or for us. When they arrived, I was in the bed room trying to think of an escape route. I found one, the way I came in. I realized as they went through out the apartment and finally settled in the bedroom I was hiding in but pretending that I was where I was supposed to be, they drilled us with questions. While I got suspicious glances, I took the opportunity to move around them letting them believe I was cooperating with their “inspection” of the premises. I removed my belt wrapping it around my fist so as to use the buckle as a bludgeon. I leaned against the door jamb, my posture clearly saying, “Your move”.
Everything that happened after this was fuzzy. We were on the run. People helped us but they did not get involved. It was as if they had accepted this new society as normal. Like birds trapped in a cage too long, they accepted their fate without a fight, without a struggle. I wonder if something was being done to them, fed to them to make them so…docile. After all, this was America! Our nation was born out of the fires of revolution and rebellion! Somewhere, someone convinced the whole country, the whole world to just lay there and take it. But there was a few of us who could not accept that. Mind you…this was just a dream.
Monday, November 11, 2013
A Patriot’s Heart (Veteran’s Day Science Fiction FTW)
Monday- November 11, 2013. Veteran’s Day
Chapter 1
Rynal Grant woke up with a smile on his face and a slight kink in his back. He stretched it out, yawned then lay back upon his pillow. Then he became serious and recited a prayer and thanked his Lord and Savior Jesus Christ for allowing him to see yet another birthday. He acknowledged that tomorrow isn’t promised but was grateful for what he had been given, even though he felt himself un-worthy. He ended his prayer, got up, showered, dressed, and then made his way to Starbucks. This was his tradition for the past few years, to celebrate his birthday with a nice hot cup of Joe from his favorite coffee place. He just knew that this would be a birthday/Veteran’s Day he’d not soon forget.
At Starbucks he got his coffee and sat down in a comfortable chair. The soft earth toned chair matched the motif that is Starbuck’s signature. He enjoyed being around so many different people’s. He saw them each as someone with a different story to tell. He glanced at them then looked away not wanting to appear creepy. It’s just that he found them so interesting. He could write stories about each of them, made up of course, simply for his own amusement. He could do it because he felt some kind of way about them. He hoped that they were all having as wonderful a day as he was having. Then he focused his attention on his Facebook page. So many notifications from his Facebook friends wishing him a happy birthday drew a huge smile. He had been at this all weekend. Sunday was the United States Marine Corps birthday and Monday was his birthday and simultaneously Veteran’s Day. So having served as a U. S. Marine rounded off the excitement and pride he felt. He posted a picture of himself in his dress blues, that uniform that is easily recognizable the world over. Yes. He was very proud of his service. Proud indeed.
He glanced at the old man to his left. He studied the lines on the old man’s face for a minute. He had a scar that was almost indistinguishable from his normal wrinkles. That combined with the milky whiteness of his left eye was enough to tell the tale. This man was a soldier. He guessed a Vietnam Veteran. The man was elderly, but Rynal could tell from looking at him, he would not have wanted to meet this man in his prime. The old man glanced back then casually looked away. Rynal hoped he hadn’t offended him. He continued to while away the time on his Facebook page, jumping back and forth between social networking sites, as his laptop’s battery slowly drained.
Chapter 2
Being so immersed within the internet, few people recognized the sky. What began as a clear and sunny day was quickly obscured by dark clouds and lightening. It would later be described as a tornado opening in the middle of the sky. Out of the tornado flew a giant insect looking ship. The back of which opened and produced smaller flying ships and bug eyed soldiers who, once their feet hit the ground, began to fire at everything, anything, and anyone in their way. They made their way from the strip mall’s parking lot over to the Starbucks near Hardy St.
Finally the hipsters inside of the Starbucks noticed what was going on. If that didn’t get their attention the explosions and the couple flying through the glass wall did. Rynal quickly packed up his laptop, phone and made for the door. He ignored everyone and everything else. There was so much chaos going on around him, he panicked. He got outside and made a break for his car. Before he got 20 feet from the front door of the Starbucks he found standing directly in front of him a soldier. The humanoid bug faced creature stood 6’5” tall and he pointing right at Rynal’s chest a strange but recognizable weapon, his rifle.
The people inside Starbucks looked on helplessly. They knew this man was about to die. One man even had his camcorder capturing and streaming to YouTube everything that was happening. They all felt useless and dismayed at the inevitable. To everyone’s surprise, including the alien soldier, Rynal grabbed the barrel of the rifle slap the bottom out of the smug invader’s grip then pulled the trigger. The smug grin left the alien’s face when his guts exploded. He lay on the ground looking as if he could not believe this was happening to him of all creatures. He stared into Rynal’s face. He no longer saw someone to conqueror. He no longer saw a story he was going to share with his buddies when this was all over. He saw the face of a U. S. Marine. A face full of mercy and kindness…just no mercy and kindness for him. This was the last face he saw before wishing he stayed home on his own planet.
Something blossomed within Rynal. After he shot the alien attacker in the face he ran back to the Starbucks tucked and rolled behind a parked Hyundai. To his surprise bumping up against him was that one eyed old man with the scar on his face. He shouted with glee,
“Hooah, Devil Dog! This reminds me of the battle of Hue, during the Tet Offensive! We were taken by surprise, but we had some surprises of our own!!”
Rynal, surprised, asked, “How did you know I was a Marine!?!”
The Scar faced Vet said, “Because you yelled Oorah! While you were killing the bug! Name’s Sargent First Class James Metcalf, but you can call me Scarface!”
Rynal didn’t realize that he said anything when he killed the alien. Later he would be totally surprised and glad for his actions when he watched the video that showed him expertly disarming the alien soldier, yelling “Oorah” then pumping the alien with more than the required amount of rounds to kill, well, any living thing.
Scarface said with an edge of satisfaction, “Let’s send these buggers back where they came from.”
With those words the two Veteran’s reenlisted themselves back into their respective branches of military service and they began to drop the alien invaders within the vicinity. When the aliens were down, the human survivors, veterans and civilian, men and women, young and old took up their weapons and began to fight back giving the alien invaders what for.
Chapter 3
Carly Monroe was feeling fidgety. She sat beside her mom quietly watching the program as it progressed. It was a Veteran’s Day program held at the Mississippi Armed Forces Museum. Her grandfather was one of the many veteran’s honored for their bravery during this country’s time of need. As a sophomore at the University of Southern Mississippi she honored her grandfather and her father who was currently a Major in the United States Army serving in Afghanistan, by showing up with the rest of her family for this momentous occasion.
If you asked her, she would have told you exactly how she felt about war. She hated it. She viewed it as the most disgusting action a country can take. The end result is the loss of innocent lives of men, women, and children. The “powers that be” should sit down and talk it out rather than kill each other and put innocent people in danger. She once voiced this to her family. It was after they buried her older brother Caleb, a Marine who died saving a village and his platoon mates back in 2003 in Iraq. She loved her brother so much. He was the most gentle person she knew. She could always count on him to brighten up her day. Even when she knew she was annoying him, he still made time to sit and listen to her.
Her mom would say, "If you two weren’t three years apart, I’d swear you were twins." This was her relationship with her brother.
She thought he’d go off to college and become an actor or some kind of a professional in the entertainment industry, however, when 9/11 occurred, that Monroe patriotism flared up within him and he joined the USMC. Secretly she tried to talk him out of it.
“What are you thinking? Are you trying to make mom, dad and grandpa proud of you? They are! Caleb you don’t need to do this!!”
This drew a small burst of anger from him.
“Yes I do! Carly, we were attacked! Everything I know and love is right here in Kosciusko, MS! If those terrorists think that they can come over here and destroy our way of life, then someone has to stand up to them! Me or someone else like me!
Carly replied, “…but why you!?! Can’t someone else do it!?!”
Caleb, gently grabbing her by her shoulders and looking down into her glistening blue eyes then said to her,
“Because someone has to stand up to the bully. See this scar over my eye? I got it from Richie Jacobs. I was so afraid of him, so were my friends. Dad told me that I should stand up to him. I asked him why me too. He said because someone has to. If not you, then who? One day Richie was pushing my friend Terrell Jones around, calling him the N-Word and what not. Even though he was way bigger than me and Terrell, I still walked over there and stood up for my friend. That day Terrell and me gave ol’ Richie Jacobs a well deserved beating. He hasn’t bothered either of us since. I hate bullies. I WILL stand up to them and give them the whooping they need. It’s like grandpa said, “The only thing necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing.” I refuse to just sit around and do nothing. I’m gonna fight!”
Carly, tears flowing freely, but still persistent asked, “B-But what if you die?”
The words came out shakily. Caleb replied,
“If my sacrifice affords you a day, a week, a year of freedom to live your life without fear, then I think it’s worth it.”
Her thoughts drifted back to the present. Her grandfather had taken center stage and was giving a speech backed by several
vets, one of which was a Tuskegee Airman. They stood covered in their medals offering the best salute men of their age could offer. She caught wind of what was to be her grandfather’s last recorded words.
“…my actions, and the actions of these brave men behind me have afforded this country the freedom they now enjoy, but I fear our time is at an end. It is up to young people like you to fight for the freedom of the generations that are following you. In the words of Edmund Burke, “The only thing necessary for evil to triumph is for good men (and women, he looked at his granddaughter) to do nothing.”
At that instant, her grandfather’s chest exploded into a cloud of red that sprayed everyone in the front row. In the commotion that followed she ignored it all and ran to his aid. She lifted his head and called to him. The aliens subdued and or killed the armed soldiers in the museum. One of their kind, perhaps a Lieutenant approached the podium and began to make clicking sounds that no human understood. He pressed something on his breast then began again. He urged everyone to calm down and assured that this would not take long. He asserted his people’s dominance over the peoples of the earth. He told of how they came from a great distance away in search of another planet to take over and that the primitives here had two choices, to obey and live or resist and die.
Carly recognized several things here. This alien guy, with his condescending talk, was a bully. Bullies need to be taught a lesson. She noticed his side arm and that he did not consider her a threat. She noticed her grandfather had come to for the moment and was mouthing something to her. She leaned in closer to listen.
“You can do something baby. Be strong. You can fig-…”
She thought of her brother Caleb and his words to her. She decided to do something. She didn’t know what exactly, but it would be something for sure. She kissed her now dead grandpa on the forehead, whispered goodbye, and then lay him down. She glanced around taking stock of the room. The aliens were comfortable that there were no other threats so they were somewhat relaxed. She could hear the struggle going on outside, and soon the rear door to the room they were in burst open. A small group of U. S. Army soldiers comprised of both men and women came busting through the doors firing at the aliens.
That was all the distraction she needed. She sprang to her feet, snatched the alien lieutenant’s side arm out of its holster then fired point blank into his back and said into what she believed to be his ear,
“That was for my grandpa and this is for my planet!”
She fired into his back a second time then discarded his limp body to the side. Unconsciously taking on a classic shooter’s stance she fired at the alien soldiers at her left side, dropping every one with an accurately placed head shot as the Army soldiers who unknowingly provided her with the distraction, dropped the rest. The aliens in that room did not stand a chance.
Carly Monroe’s views changed that day. She realized that there is a time when you must fight. She realized that the weak and defenseless needed a Caleb Monroe to come to their rescue. She purposed within herself to be that defender of the weak. Not only would she fight, but she would see to it that these invaders who haphazardly took innocent lives got exactly what they deserved.
…to be continued…
Chapter 1
Rynal Grant woke up with a smile on his face and a slight kink in his back. He stretched it out, yawned then lay back upon his pillow. Then he became serious and recited a prayer and thanked his Lord and Savior Jesus Christ for allowing him to see yet another birthday. He acknowledged that tomorrow isn’t promised but was grateful for what he had been given, even though he felt himself un-worthy. He ended his prayer, got up, showered, dressed, and then made his way to Starbucks. This was his tradition for the past few years, to celebrate his birthday with a nice hot cup of Joe from his favorite coffee place. He just knew that this would be a birthday/Veteran’s Day he’d not soon forget.
At Starbucks he got his coffee and sat down in a comfortable chair. The soft earth toned chair matched the motif that is Starbuck’s signature. He enjoyed being around so many different people’s. He saw them each as someone with a different story to tell. He glanced at them then looked away not wanting to appear creepy. It’s just that he found them so interesting. He could write stories about each of them, made up of course, simply for his own amusement. He could do it because he felt some kind of way about them. He hoped that they were all having as wonderful a day as he was having. Then he focused his attention on his Facebook page. So many notifications from his Facebook friends wishing him a happy birthday drew a huge smile. He had been at this all weekend. Sunday was the United States Marine Corps birthday and Monday was his birthday and simultaneously Veteran’s Day. So having served as a U. S. Marine rounded off the excitement and pride he felt. He posted a picture of himself in his dress blues, that uniform that is easily recognizable the world over. Yes. He was very proud of his service. Proud indeed.
He glanced at the old man to his left. He studied the lines on the old man’s face for a minute. He had a scar that was almost indistinguishable from his normal wrinkles. That combined with the milky whiteness of his left eye was enough to tell the tale. This man was a soldier. He guessed a Vietnam Veteran. The man was elderly, but Rynal could tell from looking at him, he would not have wanted to meet this man in his prime. The old man glanced back then casually looked away. Rynal hoped he hadn’t offended him. He continued to while away the time on his Facebook page, jumping back and forth between social networking sites, as his laptop’s battery slowly drained.
Chapter 2
Being so immersed within the internet, few people recognized the sky. What began as a clear and sunny day was quickly obscured by dark clouds and lightening. It would later be described as a tornado opening in the middle of the sky. Out of the tornado flew a giant insect looking ship. The back of which opened and produced smaller flying ships and bug eyed soldiers who, once their feet hit the ground, began to fire at everything, anything, and anyone in their way. They made their way from the strip mall’s parking lot over to the Starbucks near Hardy St.
Finally the hipsters inside of the Starbucks noticed what was going on. If that didn’t get their attention the explosions and the couple flying through the glass wall did. Rynal quickly packed up his laptop, phone and made for the door. He ignored everyone and everything else. There was so much chaos going on around him, he panicked. He got outside and made a break for his car. Before he got 20 feet from the front door of the Starbucks he found standing directly in front of him a soldier. The humanoid bug faced creature stood 6’5” tall and he pointing right at Rynal’s chest a strange but recognizable weapon, his rifle.
The people inside Starbucks looked on helplessly. They knew this man was about to die. One man even had his camcorder capturing and streaming to YouTube everything that was happening. They all felt useless and dismayed at the inevitable. To everyone’s surprise, including the alien soldier, Rynal grabbed the barrel of the rifle slap the bottom out of the smug invader’s grip then pulled the trigger. The smug grin left the alien’s face when his guts exploded. He lay on the ground looking as if he could not believe this was happening to him of all creatures. He stared into Rynal’s face. He no longer saw someone to conqueror. He no longer saw a story he was going to share with his buddies when this was all over. He saw the face of a U. S. Marine. A face full of mercy and kindness…just no mercy and kindness for him. This was the last face he saw before wishing he stayed home on his own planet.
Something blossomed within Rynal. After he shot the alien attacker in the face he ran back to the Starbucks tucked and rolled behind a parked Hyundai. To his surprise bumping up against him was that one eyed old man with the scar on his face. He shouted with glee,
“Hooah, Devil Dog! This reminds me of the battle of Hue, during the Tet Offensive! We were taken by surprise, but we had some surprises of our own!!”
Rynal, surprised, asked, “How did you know I was a Marine!?!”
The Scar faced Vet said, “Because you yelled Oorah! While you were killing the bug! Name’s Sargent First Class James Metcalf, but you can call me Scarface!”
Rynal didn’t realize that he said anything when he killed the alien. Later he would be totally surprised and glad for his actions when he watched the video that showed him expertly disarming the alien soldier, yelling “Oorah” then pumping the alien with more than the required amount of rounds to kill, well, any living thing.
Scarface said with an edge of satisfaction, “Let’s send these buggers back where they came from.”
With those words the two Veteran’s reenlisted themselves back into their respective branches of military service and they began to drop the alien invaders within the vicinity. When the aliens were down, the human survivors, veterans and civilian, men and women, young and old took up their weapons and began to fight back giving the alien invaders what for.
Chapter 3
Carly Monroe was feeling fidgety. She sat beside her mom quietly watching the program as it progressed. It was a Veteran’s Day program held at the Mississippi Armed Forces Museum. Her grandfather was one of the many veteran’s honored for their bravery during this country’s time of need. As a sophomore at the University of Southern Mississippi she honored her grandfather and her father who was currently a Major in the United States Army serving in Afghanistan, by showing up with the rest of her family for this momentous occasion.
If you asked her, she would have told you exactly how she felt about war. She hated it. She viewed it as the most disgusting action a country can take. The end result is the loss of innocent lives of men, women, and children. The “powers that be” should sit down and talk it out rather than kill each other and put innocent people in danger. She once voiced this to her family. It was after they buried her older brother Caleb, a Marine who died saving a village and his platoon mates back in 2003 in Iraq. She loved her brother so much. He was the most gentle person she knew. She could always count on him to brighten up her day. Even when she knew she was annoying him, he still made time to sit and listen to her.
Her mom would say, "If you two weren’t three years apart, I’d swear you were twins." This was her relationship with her brother.
She thought he’d go off to college and become an actor or some kind of a professional in the entertainment industry, however, when 9/11 occurred, that Monroe patriotism flared up within him and he joined the USMC. Secretly she tried to talk him out of it.
“What are you thinking? Are you trying to make mom, dad and grandpa proud of you? They are! Caleb you don’t need to do this!!”
This drew a small burst of anger from him.
“Yes I do! Carly, we were attacked! Everything I know and love is right here in Kosciusko, MS! If those terrorists think that they can come over here and destroy our way of life, then someone has to stand up to them! Me or someone else like me!
Carly replied, “…but why you!?! Can’t someone else do it!?!”
Caleb, gently grabbing her by her shoulders and looking down into her glistening blue eyes then said to her,
“Because someone has to stand up to the bully. See this scar over my eye? I got it from Richie Jacobs. I was so afraid of him, so were my friends. Dad told me that I should stand up to him. I asked him why me too. He said because someone has to. If not you, then who? One day Richie was pushing my friend Terrell Jones around, calling him the N-Word and what not. Even though he was way bigger than me and Terrell, I still walked over there and stood up for my friend. That day Terrell and me gave ol’ Richie Jacobs a well deserved beating. He hasn’t bothered either of us since. I hate bullies. I WILL stand up to them and give them the whooping they need. It’s like grandpa said, “The only thing necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing.” I refuse to just sit around and do nothing. I’m gonna fight!”
Carly, tears flowing freely, but still persistent asked, “B-But what if you die?”
The words came out shakily. Caleb replied,
“If my sacrifice affords you a day, a week, a year of freedom to live your life without fear, then I think it’s worth it.”
Her thoughts drifted back to the present. Her grandfather had taken center stage and was giving a speech backed by several
vets, one of which was a Tuskegee Airman. They stood covered in their medals offering the best salute men of their age could offer. She caught wind of what was to be her grandfather’s last recorded words.
“…my actions, and the actions of these brave men behind me have afforded this country the freedom they now enjoy, but I fear our time is at an end. It is up to young people like you to fight for the freedom of the generations that are following you. In the words of Edmund Burke, “The only thing necessary for evil to triumph is for good men (and women, he looked at his granddaughter) to do nothing.”
At that instant, her grandfather’s chest exploded into a cloud of red that sprayed everyone in the front row. In the commotion that followed she ignored it all and ran to his aid. She lifted his head and called to him. The aliens subdued and or killed the armed soldiers in the museum. One of their kind, perhaps a Lieutenant approached the podium and began to make clicking sounds that no human understood. He pressed something on his breast then began again. He urged everyone to calm down and assured that this would not take long. He asserted his people’s dominance over the peoples of the earth. He told of how they came from a great distance away in search of another planet to take over and that the primitives here had two choices, to obey and live or resist and die.
Carly recognized several things here. This alien guy, with his condescending talk, was a bully. Bullies need to be taught a lesson. She noticed his side arm and that he did not consider her a threat. She noticed her grandfather had come to for the moment and was mouthing something to her. She leaned in closer to listen.
“You can do something baby. Be strong. You can fig-…”
She thought of her brother Caleb and his words to her. She decided to do something. She didn’t know what exactly, but it would be something for sure. She kissed her now dead grandpa on the forehead, whispered goodbye, and then lay him down. She glanced around taking stock of the room. The aliens were comfortable that there were no other threats so they were somewhat relaxed. She could hear the struggle going on outside, and soon the rear door to the room they were in burst open. A small group of U. S. Army soldiers comprised of both men and women came busting through the doors firing at the aliens.
That was all the distraction she needed. She sprang to her feet, snatched the alien lieutenant’s side arm out of its holster then fired point blank into his back and said into what she believed to be his ear,
“That was for my grandpa and this is for my planet!”
She fired into his back a second time then discarded his limp body to the side. Unconsciously taking on a classic shooter’s stance she fired at the alien soldiers at her left side, dropping every one with an accurately placed head shot as the Army soldiers who unknowingly provided her with the distraction, dropped the rest. The aliens in that room did not stand a chance.
Carly Monroe’s views changed that day. She realized that there is a time when you must fight. She realized that the weak and defenseless needed a Caleb Monroe to come to their rescue. She purposed within herself to be that defender of the weak. Not only would she fight, but she would see to it that these invaders who haphazardly took innocent lives got exactly what they deserved.
…to be continued…
Thursday, July 25, 2013
Women Problems: Why Do I Bother
~ I have a problem. I know I’ve titled this post “Women Problems: Why Do I Bother?”, but my real problem is I haven’t learned the art of “Baby, You’re Right!” Perhaps it’s because I’ve been single for so long. Perhaps it’s because of my pride. I’m not clear on the reasons and the whys. What I do know is women drive me crazy. Thus far, I have endeavoured to keep this blog positive and I think I have done a very good job of that. However, this post is a rant to someone. I don't mind you reading it but don't be all bent out of shape with me for this one rant. ~
The reason I didn’t want to continue talking to you is because I realized, right off the bat, I was the bad guy. No matter what valid point I made, it would be turned around and used against me. It was clear to me that you were in a very emotional state and I really didn’t want to argue. I wish I didn’t send you that last text message, telling you just that, because I just furnished you with ammo for the next time you want to argue. I apologize for that.
As far as communication goes, I understand you want to feel “loved” and “pursued” and “wanted” but the fact of the matter is if I don’t call you for a couple of days doesn’t mean I don’t love you. You should understand, I’m 37 years old and I’ve never been married. I’m used to having time to myself. I love you but sometimes I like to be by myself. I’m a loner like that. If we were actually married, I would look at things differently. I know you are always going to be there. I know the kids are always going to be there. I understand that. Guess what…we’re not married! I’m, technically, still single and I still want time for myself (many times I feel like you expect me to be a husband but I don’t see it that way because we aren’t married…yet).
You seem to want me to change a lot of things about myself before we get married. I understand that with “precision understanding”. I know if I don’t (for example) brush my teeth regularly before I’m married, I’m not going to do it after I get married. Well, I’m not the only one who needs to change things prior to our “elusive” nuptials. I do remember the episode that followed an announcement I made to you when I explained to you that when we get married, you would have to attend seminary school (I was only trying to plant a seed, prepare you for the future). You got all upset as if I slapped your face. I wasn’t asking you to drop everything you were doing right now, change, and move away from everything you know with me (just so you know, I don’t expect to live here in MS until I’m old unless God wants me to. If I had my way, I’d be somewhere else like London, England). You say you love me and that you have faith in God but why does it scare you to move to the other side of the country with me so that you can attend Bible Seminary? It’s not like you won’t be able to visit (I want a wife not a prisoner)!
Wait! Let me guess! You are afraid that I’m going to change on you. You are afraid that I am going to become someone else or treat you differently around people that you do not know. You are afraid that I will not be responsible with/for your kids because after all, “they are YOUR kids and you have a responsibility to them and because they aren’t mine, I won’t care about them the way you would! That’s a mother’s love!!!” (Really!? You think I’m that heartless, really!?!)
This tells me that you don’t trust me or understand me. I understand, but you your feelings on the matter were so strong it causes me to wonder, why would you be with me at all? If I’m this “threat” that you think I am, if I am this “big danger”, why are you with me? Would you rather I lay my ministry to the side and just change into what YOU want me to be and you yourself not have to change? (This is the impression I get from you.)
It is for this reason that I have not “officially” proposed. For one thing, to be with you is expensive. I have not been the most financially responsible in the past, I know that. For the past few years I have been actively working to reverse my financial situation. So far, I don’t see how being with you is going to change that (I’m not blaming you for my financial situation. I clearly said “I have not been the most financially responsible in the past”).
Look. I can go on and on and on about many things. Your “communication policy” (How much affirmation do you need!?!), your reluctance to change but demanding that I be different, even your subtle attacks on my character (…because you’re so perfect). I am forced to ask myself, why do I bother? Why do I put up with you? Six years ago, I broke up with you (I’ve broken up with you several times within the past 7 months actually) because of similar things I’ve enumerated above. If I am as “messed up”, as you obviously feel I am, why would you put up with me?
It’s things like this that frustrates me so much. Why should we bother? You’ve mentioned to me that you have a ministry to perform before God. You’ve told me what that is. I honestly do not see how that is going to work if we are married. You don’t seem to be the kind of woman that can let a man be a man and run things. Though you claim that this is what you want. All I see from you is a big ball of fight, resistance and rebellion.
I know this is where you’ll try to point out some flaw I have. Yes, I have flaws. I choose to keep those flaws between me and God. I prefer to work them out with Him, but tell me something…why is it you have so much confidence/understanding in God and His word but the meaning of I Corinthians 11:5-6 totally and completely eludes you.
[I Corinthians 11:5-6, “…But every woman that prayeth or prophesieth with her head uncovered dishonoureth her head: for that is even all one as if she were shaven. (6) For if the woman be not covered, let her also be shorn: but if it be a shame for a woman to be shorn or shaven, let her be covered.]
So, yeah, we all have areas we need to work on. My closing statement or the sum of it all is my reluctance to marry you is due to you. I put up with you because I do love you and I feel that you are my soul mate. I am careful and reluctant to marry you because despite me feeling like you are my soul mate, I want to be sure that I want you (too many times people have told me to take my time, well, I’m taking my time). To want you means I’m willing to put up with all of your problems (many of which you have not shared with me and it’s not due to my lack of communication or you having the opportunity to tell me) and quite frankly, “I can do bad all by myself”.
I would much rather us not be married and happy than to be married and miserable. I feel like this, if you feel like I am going to be a problem/more trouble than I am worth to you, then feel free to let me move on. Sure I will hurt, but I will also put on my big boy pants and move on with my life. That is how I feel about you. I know people believe that if you love someone, you’ll do anything for them or to be with them. I believe that includes letting them go as well. I don’t require much of you, but I do require that you be “with the program”. If you can’t do that (you’ve been reluctant thus far) then please…love me enough to let me go on my way. There ARE other people out there for us. There is NO shame in NOT getting married.
The reason I didn’t want to continue talking to you is because I realized, right off the bat, I was the bad guy. No matter what valid point I made, it would be turned around and used against me. It was clear to me that you were in a very emotional state and I really didn’t want to argue. I wish I didn’t send you that last text message, telling you just that, because I just furnished you with ammo for the next time you want to argue. I apologize for that.
As far as communication goes, I understand you want to feel “loved” and “pursued” and “wanted” but the fact of the matter is if I don’t call you for a couple of days doesn’t mean I don’t love you. You should understand, I’m 37 years old and I’ve never been married. I’m used to having time to myself. I love you but sometimes I like to be by myself. I’m a loner like that. If we were actually married, I would look at things differently. I know you are always going to be there. I know the kids are always going to be there. I understand that. Guess what…we’re not married! I’m, technically, still single and I still want time for myself (many times I feel like you expect me to be a husband but I don’t see it that way because we aren’t married…yet).
You seem to want me to change a lot of things about myself before we get married. I understand that with “precision understanding”. I know if I don’t (for example) brush my teeth regularly before I’m married, I’m not going to do it after I get married. Well, I’m not the only one who needs to change things prior to our “elusive” nuptials. I do remember the episode that followed an announcement I made to you when I explained to you that when we get married, you would have to attend seminary school (I was only trying to plant a seed, prepare you for the future). You got all upset as if I slapped your face. I wasn’t asking you to drop everything you were doing right now, change, and move away from everything you know with me (just so you know, I don’t expect to live here in MS until I’m old unless God wants me to. If I had my way, I’d be somewhere else like London, England). You say you love me and that you have faith in God but why does it scare you to move to the other side of the country with me so that you can attend Bible Seminary? It’s not like you won’t be able to visit (I want a wife not a prisoner)!
Wait! Let me guess! You are afraid that I’m going to change on you. You are afraid that I am going to become someone else or treat you differently around people that you do not know. You are afraid that I will not be responsible with/for your kids because after all, “they are YOUR kids and you have a responsibility to them and because they aren’t mine, I won’t care about them the way you would! That’s a mother’s love!!!” (Really!? You think I’m that heartless, really!?!)
This tells me that you don’t trust me or understand me. I understand, but you your feelings on the matter were so strong it causes me to wonder, why would you be with me at all? If I’m this “threat” that you think I am, if I am this “big danger”, why are you with me? Would you rather I lay my ministry to the side and just change into what YOU want me to be and you yourself not have to change? (This is the impression I get from you.)
It is for this reason that I have not “officially” proposed. For one thing, to be with you is expensive. I have not been the most financially responsible in the past, I know that. For the past few years I have been actively working to reverse my financial situation. So far, I don’t see how being with you is going to change that (I’m not blaming you for my financial situation. I clearly said “I have not been the most financially responsible in the past”).
Look. I can go on and on and on about many things. Your “communication policy” (How much affirmation do you need!?!), your reluctance to change but demanding that I be different, even your subtle attacks on my character (…because you’re so perfect). I am forced to ask myself, why do I bother? Why do I put up with you? Six years ago, I broke up with you (I’ve broken up with you several times within the past 7 months actually) because of similar things I’ve enumerated above. If I am as “messed up”, as you obviously feel I am, why would you put up with me?
It’s things like this that frustrates me so much. Why should we bother? You’ve mentioned to me that you have a ministry to perform before God. You’ve told me what that is. I honestly do not see how that is going to work if we are married. You don’t seem to be the kind of woman that can let a man be a man and run things. Though you claim that this is what you want. All I see from you is a big ball of fight, resistance and rebellion.
I know this is where you’ll try to point out some flaw I have. Yes, I have flaws. I choose to keep those flaws between me and God. I prefer to work them out with Him, but tell me something…why is it you have so much confidence/understanding in God and His word but the meaning of I Corinthians 11:5-6 totally and completely eludes you.
[I Corinthians 11:5-6, “…But every woman that prayeth or prophesieth with her head uncovered dishonoureth her head: for that is even all one as if she were shaven. (6) For if the woman be not covered, let her also be shorn: but if it be a shame for a woman to be shorn or shaven, let her be covered.]
So, yeah, we all have areas we need to work on. My closing statement or the sum of it all is my reluctance to marry you is due to you. I put up with you because I do love you and I feel that you are my soul mate. I am careful and reluctant to marry you because despite me feeling like you are my soul mate, I want to be sure that I want you (too many times people have told me to take my time, well, I’m taking my time). To want you means I’m willing to put up with all of your problems (many of which you have not shared with me and it’s not due to my lack of communication or you having the opportunity to tell me) and quite frankly, “I can do bad all by myself”.
I would much rather us not be married and happy than to be married and miserable. I feel like this, if you feel like I am going to be a problem/more trouble than I am worth to you, then feel free to let me move on. Sure I will hurt, but I will also put on my big boy pants and move on with my life. That is how I feel about you. I know people believe that if you love someone, you’ll do anything for them or to be with them. I believe that includes letting them go as well. I don’t require much of you, but I do require that you be “with the program”. If you can’t do that (you’ve been reluctant thus far) then please…love me enough to let me go on my way. There ARE other people out there for us. There is NO shame in NOT getting married.
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
I Hate The Word "Gangsta" & Here Is Why
I like words. In the lexicon that is English, there are so many words that by themselves are useless. However, when combined with other words they become something greater. They become a tool for good or evil. Many times they are used for good, like waking people up to threats, empowering them to face that threat, and giving them that forward thought that they’ll need to continue on. Other times they are used to tear down and destroy. They are used to incriminate the guilty or insinuate guilt. Even worse, they are used to divide people, to manipulate entire nations, bringing them to a quick demise, a sudden end by words that are not a correct reflection of reality. These are the words that I hate and avoid.
In today’s modern vernacular, there are words that didn’t previously exist in the afore mentioned lexicon. However, due to their popularity, they have quickly become, or perceived to be, “normal” everyday words. These words will not be found in proper dictionaries such as tend to carry historically respectable names like Oxford, Webster, or Britannica. These words, these slang words are only found on the internet. More specifically on websites like urbandictionary.com, where any Joe Schmoe or Suzie Schmoe, as the case may be, can provide a definition. That being the case it gives those words the same credibility as an article found on Wikipedia. On Wikipedia I found an article stating that Steve Urkel (a fictional television character from the ‘90s sitcom Family Matters as portrayed by Jaleel White) is the current and 44th President of the United States of America. Enough said.
As I stated before, I like words. I like catch phrases, epitaphs, and different and various euphemisms. There is a word that is used that I dislike. It’s not that I hate the word in and of itself. I hate that “urban” meaning the word. This word is “gangsta”. I hate it, utterly despise it, can not stand it. Sure there was a time when I used it to my own amusement and in some cases seriously. However, as a Christian, as a man of evolved understanding, as someone who once was a child with childish thinking but is now an adult having put away childish things, especially that childish thinking, I’ve come to passionately dislike that word and it’s urban meaning. So let’s go through the number’s here:
gangster. Noun: a violent, brutal person who is often a member of an organized gang -- see HOODLUM - Student Thesaurus
gangster. gang•ster. noun: a member of a gang of criminals : RACKETEER - gang•ster•ism /-stschwa-secondarystressriz-schwam/ noun -Merriam-Webster
gang•ster (gngstr) n. 1. A member of an organized group of criminals; a racketeer. 2. A member of a gang of delinquents. gangster•dom n. gangster•ism n. -The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, Fourth Edition copyright ©2000 by Houghton Mifflin Company.
It all gets pretty redundant after a while. It doesn’t take a genius to see where the term “gangsta” came from. Today people who would take upon themselves the term gangsta are delusional. Many of the “gangstas” I’ve ran into were usually kids, from preteens to the older teenagers (those whose predisposition is to seek an identity). They start them out young much like communist who start their programming with children. This is obviously done for nefarious reasons. The thing that made me dislike the term is the fact that this is promoted as something good to be. This is promoted like is something to be proud of, adored, worshipped. The truth is it is not. Since when has it become acceptable to be proud of one’s sins? Murder, recreational drug distribution, hating people because they are from the north end of town and you are from the south end...this makes no sense to me! What makes it worse is the entertainment industry. They make movies such as Scarface, New Jack City, and more recently, American Gangster and people flock to these in droves. I understand that it is story telling. I understand that these things are taken from real life situations. I even understand the term “art imitating life”. The problem is when life begins to mimic art.
This is where the brunt of my whole problem with the word lies. Recently I read a facebook post about Samuel Whittemore, who at 80 years old killed 3 British Soldiers on April 19, 1775. He was shot, bayoneted, beaten, and left for dead, but recovered and lived to see 98 years of age. My first response in my mind to put on the post was this: “An 80 year old man did that…and still lived 19 years? Dude was GANGSTA!” Then I thought about it. Why would I say that!?! Needless to say, I put something else, because I will not glorify all the things “gangsta”, “gangster”, “g” (or any other variation of the word) stands for.
By they way, many of these people on the music side of the Entertainment Industry, namely rappers, come from well to do homes. Many of them did not rise from the various ghettos around America like they claim to have done so in their music. Many of them come from good homes, well to do families full of professionals such as doctors and lawyers. They went to good schools, gained education from quality institutions, and now get paid to portray a lifestyle for which , many of you are willing to use your EBT cards to emulate. I wish I was stretching the truth here, but sadly, I’m not. So go ahead, point your hat the wrong direction, leave your belt at home, buy your 4 year old Air Jordan’s, and dye your hair the brightest shade of pink on the spectrum, then stand up in public and tell everyone how much swag you currently possess. Then realize how much of a fool you are for living within the bounds of the Entertainment Industry’s “hive mind”. Or…wake up to reality.
In today’s modern vernacular, there are words that didn’t previously exist in the afore mentioned lexicon. However, due to their popularity, they have quickly become, or perceived to be, “normal” everyday words. These words will not be found in proper dictionaries such as tend to carry historically respectable names like Oxford, Webster, or Britannica. These words, these slang words are only found on the internet. More specifically on websites like urbandictionary.com, where any Joe Schmoe or Suzie Schmoe, as the case may be, can provide a definition. That being the case it gives those words the same credibility as an article found on Wikipedia. On Wikipedia I found an article stating that Steve Urkel (a fictional television character from the ‘90s sitcom Family Matters as portrayed by Jaleel White) is the current and 44th President of the United States of America. Enough said.
As I stated before, I like words. I like catch phrases, epitaphs, and different and various euphemisms. There is a word that is used that I dislike. It’s not that I hate the word in and of itself. I hate that “urban” meaning the word. This word is “gangsta”. I hate it, utterly despise it, can not stand it. Sure there was a time when I used it to my own amusement and in some cases seriously. However, as a Christian, as a man of evolved understanding, as someone who once was a child with childish thinking but is now an adult having put away childish things, especially that childish thinking, I’ve come to passionately dislike that word and it’s urban meaning. So let’s go through the number’s here:
gangster. Noun: a violent, brutal person who is often a member of an organized gang
gangster. gang•ster. noun: a member of a gang of criminals : RACKETEER - gang•ster•ism /-stschwa-secondarystressriz-schwam/ noun -Merriam-Webster
gang•ster (gngstr) n. 1. A member of an organized group of criminals; a racketeer. 2. A member of a gang of delinquents. gangster•dom n. gangster•ism n. -The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, Fourth Edition copyright ©2000 by Houghton Mifflin Company.
It all gets pretty redundant after a while. It doesn’t take a genius to see where the term “gangsta” came from. Today people who would take upon themselves the term gangsta are delusional. Many of the “gangstas” I’ve ran into were usually kids, from preteens to the older teenagers (those whose predisposition is to seek an identity). They start them out young much like communist who start their programming with children. This is obviously done for nefarious reasons. The thing that made me dislike the term is the fact that this is promoted as something good to be. This is promoted like is something to be proud of, adored, worshipped. The truth is it is not. Since when has it become acceptable to be proud of one’s sins? Murder, recreational drug distribution, hating people because they are from the north end of town and you are from the south end...this makes no sense to me! What makes it worse is the entertainment industry. They make movies such as Scarface, New Jack City, and more recently, American Gangster and people flock to these in droves. I understand that it is story telling. I understand that these things are taken from real life situations. I even understand the term “art imitating life”. The problem is when life begins to mimic art.
This is where the brunt of my whole problem with the word lies. Recently I read a facebook post about Samuel Whittemore, who at 80 years old killed 3 British Soldiers on April 19, 1775. He was shot, bayoneted, beaten, and left for dead, but recovered and lived to see 98 years of age. My first response in my mind to put on the post was this: “An 80 year old man did that…and still lived 19 years? Dude was GANGSTA!” Then I thought about it. Why would I say that!?! Needless to say, I put something else, because I will not glorify all the things “gangsta”, “gangster”, “g” (or any other variation of the word) stands for.
By they way, many of these people on the music side of the Entertainment Industry, namely rappers, come from well to do homes. Many of them did not rise from the various ghettos around America like they claim to have done so in their music. Many of them come from good homes, well to do families full of professionals such as doctors and lawyers. They went to good schools, gained education from quality institutions, and now get paid to portray a lifestyle for which , many of you are willing to use your EBT cards to emulate. I wish I was stretching the truth here, but sadly, I’m not. So go ahead, point your hat the wrong direction, leave your belt at home, buy your 4 year old Air Jordan’s, and dye your hair the brightest shade of pink on the spectrum, then stand up in public and tell everyone how much swag you currently possess. Then realize how much of a fool you are for living within the bounds of the Entertainment Industry’s “hive mind”. Or…wake up to reality.
Thursday, September 20, 2012
Disturbing Dream
I had a disturbing dream. So disturbing that as I sit and type this, right now, I can still feel the fear of it all. It’s been 12 hours since I awoke from that horrifying experience.
I found myself standing in a parking lot. Perhaps I was in parking lot of the apartment complex where I grew up. I’m dressed in my security guard uniform. It’s dark out. I can see just enough. Is it dusk? Or has a dark reddish cloud settled upon everything. I'm not sure. Suddenly I look towards the place my mom’s apartment should have been. Something...no,...someone is charging me. This is the biggest man I have ever seen in my life.
He makes no sound. No grunts, nothing. The only thing that made me aware of his presence was the ground as it trembled beneath my feet, in tune with every step he took towards me. As he drew near me he reached behind his head and produced an ax or a tomahawk of some sort. He came at me with one purpose and that was to get to me.
I was so startled, I managed a yelp. I'm glad I still had the faculties to reach for my pistol. In that instant, I didn’t even know if it was there. Now that I think about it, I don’t even know if the gun would have fired or if the bullets would have even slowed him down. He got closer, closer, and closer still.
I awoke speaking in tongues. I believed it to be a cry for mercy or help from God, the only one I KNOW that can help in such a situation. I’m so relieved that I woke up. I’m equally relieved that it was just a dream. Or was it? I looked at my alarm clock. I had been asleep for approximately 1 to 1 1/2 hours. While I don’t know what the dream meant, I am certain that I don’t want to have it again. My only concern right now is what does that dream mean?
I found myself standing in a parking lot. Perhaps I was in parking lot of the apartment complex where I grew up. I’m dressed in my security guard uniform. It’s dark out. I can see just enough. Is it dusk? Or has a dark reddish cloud settled upon everything. I'm not sure. Suddenly I look towards the place my mom’s apartment should have been. Something...no,...someone is charging me. This is the biggest man I have ever seen in my life.
He makes no sound. No grunts, nothing. The only thing that made me aware of his presence was the ground as it trembled beneath my feet, in tune with every step he took towards me. As he drew near me he reached behind his head and produced an ax or a tomahawk of some sort. He came at me with one purpose and that was to get to me.
I was so startled, I managed a yelp. I'm glad I still had the faculties to reach for my pistol. In that instant, I didn’t even know if it was there. Now that I think about it, I don’t even know if the gun would have fired or if the bullets would have even slowed him down. He got closer, closer, and closer still.
I awoke speaking in tongues. I believed it to be a cry for mercy or help from God, the only one I KNOW that can help in such a situation. I’m so relieved that I woke up. I’m equally relieved that it was just a dream. Or was it? I looked at my alarm clock. I had been asleep for approximately 1 to 1 1/2 hours. While I don’t know what the dream meant, I am certain that I don’t want to have it again. My only concern right now is what does that dream mean?
Friday, April 27, 2012
Reflecting On Spring Conference 2012
Let me first start by saying that I am here by the grace and mercy of God. I thank God the Father and my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ for their provisions and the opportunity to even come here. Like so many I could have left and been doing my own thing. Yet, God is merciful and I owe Him so much. I owe it to Him to stay and to fulfill my reasonable service.
Getting Started
I was going to drive my own car but I had some troubles with it that prevented that. It seems my car needed some repairs, which I already knew of. So I ended up riding with someone else which is perfectly fine. All the money I had for gas, I took it and gave it to them. At first it seemed like we were all going to miss another Conference, but in the end, here we are. On the way I was so amazed at how it all worked out that we could all go, that I had to make a post about it on Google +. I could feel in my spirit that God was congruent with my decision to get there regardless of the cost. I thanked Him then and there while we were on the road.
The first night was like a struggle for me. I felt like I was holding back or like I should make myself feel a certain way. Of course we do not live life by our feelings. So I ignored them and decided to just get in. and let what happen, happen. Rev Olsen preached the first night and the message was so very encouraging. Immediately I began to review my life, its direction, and my decisions both past and present. I looked on at my personal relationships I’d formed over the years. I looked on with regret at the ones I did not form. I can make an abundance of excuses but in the end, the fault is mine and the past cannot be redone. I definitely plan to form more relationships, better relationships in the coming years.
My Ministry
My main concern in this conference is my ministry. Where is it going? I feel like it could be so much better. I feel like things could be so different for me. I should be pastoring a work right now! Yet, I’m not. Why? I know why but I’m not going into detail here. The short answer is, "me". I am the reason that I am where I am and only I can change that. I feel like I’ve put my ministry on the shelf. I have allowed the lack of finances, a lack of an education, and other personal devices to come in and choke out my ministry. If I am indeed the gardener, it is high time to get some weeds and stones out of the way so that my ministry can begin to produce fruit.
So starting right now, I’m changing things. This is me making a difference in the world. I’m making a difference by overcoming the obstacles that are in my way. I can overcome them and have done so already because my master has already overcome.
1 John 4:4, "Ye are of God, little children, and have overcome them: because greater is he that is in you, than he that is in the world."
Interpreting The Skit
The Wednesday morning conference service featured a skit. As it stands, I am a fan of situational comedies. The skit was very funny but the lesson within dealt directly with real life situations. As we live our lives for God, things happen that wear on us. These things are little, subtle. They won’t occur all at once, but little by little. Bit by bit. In this manner, the enemy of our soul manages to strip away our armor leaving us defenseless. That armor which is given to us by God so that we may protect ourselves against those things that would come against us and destroy us. As each scene went on and ended, the soldier found himself being de-armed until finally he was completely defenseless. Once he was defenseless, he was attacked by many obstacles. Doubt, circumventing questions, money problems (the need for more or the want for more), social networking, video games, success in endeavors other than that of God, all of these things attacked him.
The soldier realized that he was not completely unarmed. He still had prayer. It wasn’t long before he reacquired his shield of faith, and his sword which is the Word of God, that he was able to fight and defeat some of these enemies. It wasn’t much longer after that before he defeated everyone and regained the helmet of salvation and the other pieces of armor necessary for survival.
In my own life, I see that I cannot change the past. I can’t make people like me nor can I make them love me. What I can do is go to war. I can put my armor on and fight. God is the one who I must please. If I can improve my relationship with Him, coupled with doing what I am supposed to do (developing habits of prayer, studying to show myself approved, a workman unto God, soul winning) everything will fall into place. By faith, prayer, bible reading/study, doing what is right, being right before God and man, I can regain my power. I can establish myself as a man of God. I can make my calling and election sure.
Removing Barriers
Tonight’s service was different. It was the second night that someone did not get to preach. I suspect that particular minister didn’t mind, because the Holy Ghost is the order of the service. Tonight He had his way. Tonight I tore down barriers that I had allowed to be in my heart and mind. I realize that I was being very pessimistic and allowing the enemy of my soul to lie to me. I will not do that again. I’m going to be positive, keep looking up and pressing forward in my life to God.
I trust God. I believe in Him. I have faith in Him. I know the things He has done for me and I know that I my service to him is only reasonable.
Over Too Soon
We finally, albeit quickly, reached the last service. At first it did not look like anyone was going to preach again, but finally the song service came down. I do not know what the last song the choir sang was, but it seemed . . . "not ready". Perhaps it is because I never heard the song before, I don’t know. I just did not like it. It’s not that it was a bad song, I just think the choir needs to practice it a little more . . .maybe a lot more.
Then the Reverend was called upon to preach. Even he admitted he did not expect to preach that night. Looking back on the service and the content of the message, it was probably best that he did preach. This was the summary message, the one to send us home.
Jude 1:12-13, "These are spots in your feasts of charity, when they feast with you, feeding themselves without fear: clouds they are without water, carried about of winds; trees whose fruit withereth, without fruit, twice dead, plucked up by the roots; (13) Raging waves of the sea, foaming out their own shame; wandering stars, to whom is reserved the blackness of darkness forever."
Revelation 3:1-6, "And unto the angel of the church in Sardis write; These things saith he that hath the seven Spirits of God, and the seven stars; I know thy works, that thou hast a name that thou livest, and art dead. (2) Be watchful, and strengthen the things which remain, that are ready to die: for I have not found thy works perfect before God. (3) Remember therefore how thou hast received and heard, and hold fast, and repent. If therefore thou shalt not watch, I will come on thee as a thief, and thou shalt not know what hour I will come upon thee. (4) Thou hast a few names even in Sardis which have not defiled their garments; and they shall walk with me in white: for they are worthy. (5) He that overcometh, the same shall be clothed in white raiment; and I will not blot out his name out of the book of life, but I will confess his name before my Father, and before his angels. (6) He that hath an ear, let him hear what the Spirit saith unto the churches."
The above verses are what Rev Kekel covered in his message entitled: "Hate The Garment". I wish I had the memory to put everything I heard back together for you, sadly, I do not. What I do know is we do not have to walk around in stained garments. We do not have to be those clouds without water, trees without fruit, waves of foam, or wandering stars. We can come to Jesus Christ and through #1 Faith, #2 The Blood of Jesus, and #3 a Strong Resolve, keep clean our garments and overcome in our lives for God. There is no need to be a hypocrite oppressed by our pride, hatred, jealously, and et cetera. All of these things can be done away with by faith in the Lamb of God. He is an overcomer. THE overcomer. It is because He overcame that we are able to over come. 1 John 4:4, "Ye are of God, little children, and have overcome them: because greater is he that is in you, than he that is in the world."
Getting Started
I was going to drive my own car but I had some troubles with it that prevented that. It seems my car needed some repairs, which I already knew of. So I ended up riding with someone else which is perfectly fine. All the money I had for gas, I took it and gave it to them. At first it seemed like we were all going to miss another Conference, but in the end, here we are. On the way I was so amazed at how it all worked out that we could all go, that I had to make a post about it on Google +. I could feel in my spirit that God was congruent with my decision to get there regardless of the cost. I thanked Him then and there while we were on the road.
The first night was like a struggle for me. I felt like I was holding back or like I should make myself feel a certain way. Of course we do not live life by our feelings. So I ignored them and decided to just get in. and let what happen, happen. Rev Olsen preached the first night and the message was so very encouraging. Immediately I began to review my life, its direction, and my decisions both past and present. I looked on at my personal relationships I’d formed over the years. I looked on with regret at the ones I did not form. I can make an abundance of excuses but in the end, the fault is mine and the past cannot be redone. I definitely plan to form more relationships, better relationships in the coming years.
My Ministry
My main concern in this conference is my ministry. Where is it going? I feel like it could be so much better. I feel like things could be so different for me. I should be pastoring a work right now! Yet, I’m not. Why? I know why but I’m not going into detail here. The short answer is, "me". I am the reason that I am where I am and only I can change that. I feel like I’ve put my ministry on the shelf. I have allowed the lack of finances, a lack of an education, and other personal devices to come in and choke out my ministry. If I am indeed the gardener, it is high time to get some weeds and stones out of the way so that my ministry can begin to produce fruit.
So starting right now, I’m changing things. This is me making a difference in the world. I’m making a difference by overcoming the obstacles that are in my way. I can overcome them and have done so already because my master has already overcome.
1 John 4:4, "Ye are of God, little children, and have overcome them: because greater is he that is in you, than he that is in the world."
Interpreting The Skit
The Wednesday morning conference service featured a skit. As it stands, I am a fan of situational comedies. The skit was very funny but the lesson within dealt directly with real life situations. As we live our lives for God, things happen that wear on us. These things are little, subtle. They won’t occur all at once, but little by little. Bit by bit. In this manner, the enemy of our soul manages to strip away our armor leaving us defenseless. That armor which is given to us by God so that we may protect ourselves against those things that would come against us and destroy us. As each scene went on and ended, the soldier found himself being de-armed until finally he was completely defenseless. Once he was defenseless, he was attacked by many obstacles. Doubt, circumventing questions, money problems (the need for more or the want for more), social networking, video games, success in endeavors other than that of God, all of these things attacked him.
The soldier realized that he was not completely unarmed. He still had prayer. It wasn’t long before he reacquired his shield of faith, and his sword which is the Word of God, that he was able to fight and defeat some of these enemies. It wasn’t much longer after that before he defeated everyone and regained the helmet of salvation and the other pieces of armor necessary for survival.
In my own life, I see that I cannot change the past. I can’t make people like me nor can I make them love me. What I can do is go to war. I can put my armor on and fight. God is the one who I must please. If I can improve my relationship with Him, coupled with doing what I am supposed to do (developing habits of prayer, studying to show myself approved, a workman unto God, soul winning) everything will fall into place. By faith, prayer, bible reading/study, doing what is right, being right before God and man, I can regain my power. I can establish myself as a man of God. I can make my calling and election sure.
Removing Barriers
Tonight’s service was different. It was the second night that someone did not get to preach. I suspect that particular minister didn’t mind, because the Holy Ghost is the order of the service. Tonight He had his way. Tonight I tore down barriers that I had allowed to be in my heart and mind. I realize that I was being very pessimistic and allowing the enemy of my soul to lie to me. I will not do that again. I’m going to be positive, keep looking up and pressing forward in my life to God.
I trust God. I believe in Him. I have faith in Him. I know the things He has done for me and I know that I my service to him is only reasonable.
Over Too Soon
We finally, albeit quickly, reached the last service. At first it did not look like anyone was going to preach again, but finally the song service came down. I do not know what the last song the choir sang was, but it seemed . . . "not ready". Perhaps it is because I never heard the song before, I don’t know. I just did not like it. It’s not that it was a bad song, I just think the choir needs to practice it a little more . . .maybe a lot more.
Then the Reverend was called upon to preach. Even he admitted he did not expect to preach that night. Looking back on the service and the content of the message, it was probably best that he did preach. This was the summary message, the one to send us home.
Jude 1:12-13, "These are spots in your feasts of charity, when they feast with you, feeding themselves without fear: clouds they are without water, carried about of winds; trees whose fruit withereth, without fruit, twice dead, plucked up by the roots; (13) Raging waves of the sea, foaming out their own shame; wandering stars, to whom is reserved the blackness of darkness forever."
Revelation 3:1-6, "And unto the angel of the church in Sardis write; These things saith he that hath the seven Spirits of God, and the seven stars; I know thy works, that thou hast a name that thou livest, and art dead. (2) Be watchful, and strengthen the things which remain, that are ready to die: for I have not found thy works perfect before God. (3) Remember therefore how thou hast received and heard, and hold fast, and repent. If therefore thou shalt not watch, I will come on thee as a thief, and thou shalt not know what hour I will come upon thee. (4) Thou hast a few names even in Sardis which have not defiled their garments; and they shall walk with me in white: for they are worthy. (5) He that overcometh, the same shall be clothed in white raiment; and I will not blot out his name out of the book of life, but I will confess his name before my Father, and before his angels. (6) He that hath an ear, let him hear what the Spirit saith unto the churches."
The above verses are what Rev Kekel covered in his message entitled: "Hate The Garment". I wish I had the memory to put everything I heard back together for you, sadly, I do not. What I do know is we do not have to walk around in stained garments. We do not have to be those clouds without water, trees without fruit, waves of foam, or wandering stars. We can come to Jesus Christ and through #1 Faith, #2 The Blood of Jesus, and #3 a Strong Resolve, keep clean our garments and overcome in our lives for God. There is no need to be a hypocrite oppressed by our pride, hatred, jealously, and et cetera. All of these things can be done away with by faith in the Lamb of God. He is an overcomer. THE overcomer. It is because He overcame that we are able to over come. 1 John 4:4, "Ye are of God, little children, and have overcome them: because greater is he that is in you, than he that is in the world."
Monday, December 12, 2011
Poetry For The Lesser Minded
poetry for the lesser minded
a crayola box for the color blinded
they searched all over but couldn't find it
yet this is where we hide it
a secret place set in plain sight
to store our power, display our might
to soothe our fears we bottle up tight
taking our fraternity to a higher height
knowing the truth, they won't get behind it
the authorities have classified it
no dictionary would dare define it
this poetry of the greater minded
a crayola box for the color blinded
they searched all over but couldn't find it
yet this is where we hide it
a secret place set in plain sight
to store our power, display our might
to soothe our fears we bottle up tight
taking our fraternity to a higher height
knowing the truth, they won't get behind it
the authorities have classified it
no dictionary would dare define it
this poetry of the greater minded
Thursday, June 23, 2011
The Awful Slayer
her skin is smooth and perfect
her hair, like fine silk, shining
her hand's gentle effect
is me uncontrollably smiling
i wish that I could steal her
& from desirous men protect
i've become the awful slayer
eliminating every threat
100 men are insufficient
1000 men won't do
10000 are most deficient
in keeping me away from you...MY girl!
her hair, like fine silk, shining
her hand's gentle effect
is me uncontrollably smiling
i wish that I could steal her
& from desirous men protect
i've become the awful slayer
eliminating every threat
100 men are insufficient
1000 men won't do
10000 are most deficient
in keeping me away from you...MY girl!
Monday, May 16, 2011
The Book of My Life
Life is a series of transitions. It is nothing more than an author writing a book. We are all the authors of our own lives. We have a definite say in which way our lives go. We choose. When we don't choose or refuse to choose, we choose still.
Chapters open in our lives and they close. You may have noticed that leaving high school, you had a realization that this was it. This is the end of the road. It is now time for me to enter adult life. We were novices who thought we knew it all.
This was me 17 years ago. The longer I live the more I realize that I am crossing threshold after threshold, ending chapter after chapter and I cannot help but wonder, what is it that I am going to publish about myself.
These words cannot be unwritten, edited for mature audiences, or banned from any reading list. It cannot be undone because it is the truth. The truth is the truth. Sometimes I love the truth and sometimes truth gets ugly and I dare not face it. Yet it stands there waiting for my acknowledgement.
One truth I am realizing now is this, I am concerned. Things are changing at such a rapid rate that I can not fathom the real speed at which I am traveling. As I look back at the pages upon pages, chapters upon chapters of my life written by my choices with the ink of purpose, forming characters of memories whose jots and tittles remind me of the good times and haunt me with the bad, I cannot help but wonder what is in the next chapter?
Will it be the final chapter? Will I attain novel status as did my grandmother? Or will the ancient field-hand claim me with his sharp scythe, whose blade cuts steadily and indiscriminately. What, I wonder, will the Great Critic of mankind say concerning what I have written?
Chapters open in our lives and they close. You may have noticed that leaving high school, you had a realization that this was it. This is the end of the road. It is now time for me to enter adult life. We were novices who thought we knew it all.
This was me 17 years ago. The longer I live the more I realize that I am crossing threshold after threshold, ending chapter after chapter and I cannot help but wonder, what is it that I am going to publish about myself.
These words cannot be unwritten, edited for mature audiences, or banned from any reading list. It cannot be undone because it is the truth. The truth is the truth. Sometimes I love the truth and sometimes truth gets ugly and I dare not face it. Yet it stands there waiting for my acknowledgement.
One truth I am realizing now is this, I am concerned. Things are changing at such a rapid rate that I can not fathom the real speed at which I am traveling. As I look back at the pages upon pages, chapters upon chapters of my life written by my choices with the ink of purpose, forming characters of memories whose jots and tittles remind me of the good times and haunt me with the bad, I cannot help but wonder what is in the next chapter?
Will it be the final chapter? Will I attain novel status as did my grandmother? Or will the ancient field-hand claim me with his sharp scythe, whose blade cuts steadily and indiscriminately. What, I wonder, will the Great Critic of mankind say concerning what I have written?
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
The Lord, the Pleading Man, & the Game Room
I had a dream last night. I was with an Angel. He stood 5’ 7” with dark curly hair. He even spoke in a jovial, upbeat, and wise cracking manner. He seemed like any other guy with a job to do. I got to tag along as an observer. We met with a new arrival. When he spoke to the angel he was kind of defensive and quick to justify himself. “I lived a good life”, he said pointedly. The angel did not get mad or upset as the guy seemed to be the “in your face’ type. He simply told him, “Okay, we’ll see what kind of life you lived.” Then he warned, “I WILL find out too.”
Then the angel and I left. We reviewed the man’s life. It was not like watching a television show. It was like scene around us dissipated and reformed and we were in his life. We watched him live. We saw the good and the bad. We eventually watched him commit a crime against another human being. He had no love whatsoever! What a selfish thing to do.
After that last scene, I believe the Angel saw enough, or at least all He could stomach. We went back. We stood with the man in question in a room with white floors and walls. In this room were people playing all sorts of games. The games were strange to me and all different. Yet, I understood the premise of each one like an inherited knowledge from just being there. One of the games closely resembled chess only the pieces were red and white…possibly and the board was triangle shaped with raised half inch borders. Some people were winning, and some people were losing badly. The ones who were losing were loud and seemed to shout in unison, but over all they were happy.
The Angel sat with His leg crossed and His desk/table to His back. He was obviously in charge. The man stood in front of him waiting to listen. I stood off to the side of the Angel, still observing. He opened his mouth and spoke to the man. “You tried to deceive me!” He said pointedly. “No, I … let me explain” are the effect of what the man on trial said. “I SAW what you did!” The Angel said effectively shutting the man’s protesting and arguments down. He gestured to the people playing games around the room and said to the man, “Do you see all of these people playing here? You are EVERYONE who is losing. This is your sentence to be carried out immediately.” There was no joy in this decision nor it’s decree.
There was nothing else the man could say. He stood silent and non-argumentative. The Angel turned around to His desk. Though I stood there fearing, I asked, “Is he going to Hell now”? The Angel did not answer. Then I thought on the Angel’s words … “You tried to deceive me!” It was then that I realized that this was no mere angel. This was Jesus Himself. The man tried to lie to Jesus and failed miserably. Did he think he would get away? Did he think that God would just overlook his “indiscretions”? No matter what he thought, his beliefs were met with disappointment.
As I stood before the Angel who seemed to ignore my presence, I realized that one day, I too would have to stand before Him. I also realized that He would not overlook my “indiscretions”. My mind was flooded with this sobering thought and I think myself privileged to receive such a serious warning. My dream of the Lord, the pleading man, and the game room began to cloud over and I awoke in my bed … with my mind on Jesus and my heart in awe.
Then the angel and I left. We reviewed the man’s life. It was not like watching a television show. It was like scene around us dissipated and reformed and we were in his life. We watched him live. We saw the good and the bad. We eventually watched him commit a crime against another human being. He had no love whatsoever! What a selfish thing to do.
After that last scene, I believe the Angel saw enough, or at least all He could stomach. We went back. We stood with the man in question in a room with white floors and walls. In this room were people playing all sorts of games. The games were strange to me and all different. Yet, I understood the premise of each one like an inherited knowledge from just being there. One of the games closely resembled chess only the pieces were red and white…possibly and the board was triangle shaped with raised half inch borders. Some people were winning, and some people were losing badly. The ones who were losing were loud and seemed to shout in unison, but over all they were happy.
The Angel sat with His leg crossed and His desk/table to His back. He was obviously in charge. The man stood in front of him waiting to listen. I stood off to the side of the Angel, still observing. He opened his mouth and spoke to the man. “You tried to deceive me!” He said pointedly. “No, I … let me explain” are the effect of what the man on trial said. “I SAW what you did!” The Angel said effectively shutting the man’s protesting and arguments down. He gestured to the people playing games around the room and said to the man, “Do you see all of these people playing here? You are EVERYONE who is losing. This is your sentence to be carried out immediately.” There was no joy in this decision nor it’s decree.
There was nothing else the man could say. He stood silent and non-argumentative. The Angel turned around to His desk. Though I stood there fearing, I asked, “Is he going to Hell now”? The Angel did not answer. Then I thought on the Angel’s words … “You tried to deceive me!” It was then that I realized that this was no mere angel. This was Jesus Himself. The man tried to lie to Jesus and failed miserably. Did he think he would get away? Did he think that God would just overlook his “indiscretions”? No matter what he thought, his beliefs were met with disappointment.
As I stood before the Angel who seemed to ignore my presence, I realized that one day, I too would have to stand before Him. I also realized that He would not overlook my “indiscretions”. My mind was flooded with this sobering thought and I think myself privileged to receive such a serious warning. My dream of the Lord, the pleading man, and the game room began to cloud over and I awoke in my bed … with my mind on Jesus and my heart in awe.
Friday, May 6, 2011
Mom In Retrospect
She made me go places I didn't want to
& to say I'm sorry. She made me eat
food that I thought so nasty, and to
go to bed early.
She made me carry the heavy stuff,
after all I'm a strong man! Whenever
we crossed the street she made me hold
her hand.
I couldn't go to party's though I went
when she didn't know, but she just had
to ask the question, "Last night, where
did you go"?
It's half as cruel to beat me as to
make me get my own switch. “An attitude
adjustment tool”, I believe that was
her pitch.
Through all of life's ups and downs
retrospect reveals its ebb and flow.
I am the man I am today because of her,
you know.
If I should be a dad one day I’ll make
sure my kids understand, what a wonderful
woman you are, and you filled your role
in God’s plan.
& to say I'm sorry. She made me eat
food that I thought so nasty, and to
go to bed early.
She made me carry the heavy stuff,
after all I'm a strong man! Whenever
we crossed the street she made me hold
her hand.
I couldn't go to party's though I went
when she didn't know, but she just had
to ask the question, "Last night, where
did you go"?
It's half as cruel to beat me as to
make me get my own switch. “An attitude
adjustment tool”, I believe that was
her pitch.
Through all of life's ups and downs
retrospect reveals its ebb and flow.
I am the man I am today because of her,
you know.
If I should be a dad one day I’ll make
sure my kids understand, what a wonderful
woman you are, and you filled your role
in God’s plan.
Friday, April 22, 2011
The Chosen Ones
The book of Matthew 22:14 says, "...For many are called, but few are chosen..." These are Jesus' words after telling a parable concerning the King throwing a wedding feast for his son. The thought concerning being called and chosen came to me as I was driving down Hardy Street.
I am not one of those persons that exclaim every now and then, "I think I have missed my calling"! I know without a shadow of a doubt that God has called me to be a preacher. I have not missed my calling. The problem is MANY are called. Wonderful, I am one of the many that have been called! FEW are chosen. Here is where I'm taking issue or am concerned. Will I be chosen? Am I doing what it takes to be chosen? What lack I yet?
I feel preaching is just one level up from being a Christian and if that is so, what is the next level? Those few that are chosen, what did they do to become chosen and what are they chosen to do? Thoughts anyone?
I am not one of those persons that exclaim every now and then, "I think I have missed my calling"! I know without a shadow of a doubt that God has called me to be a preacher. I have not missed my calling. The problem is MANY are called. Wonderful, I am one of the many that have been called! FEW are chosen. Here is where I'm taking issue or am concerned. Will I be chosen? Am I doing what it takes to be chosen? What lack I yet?
I feel preaching is just one level up from being a Christian and if that is so, what is the next level? Those few that are chosen, what did they do to become chosen and what are they chosen to do? Thoughts anyone?
Sunday, February 6, 2011
The Farmer, The Car, And The Cornfield
This story is a result of a dream I had Saturday night and woke up Sunday morning reeling over. Written by Rynal Grant (THR) 2/6/11…Sunday morning.
I had a dream that I was in my home town. I walked around with my mother and we discussed how they were tearing down different buildings and building new ones.
She told me of how years ago this old man was given a car. In the trunk of the car was millions of dollars. He took the money and built himself a house, and started a farm.
Then I had an idea for a product that would make the world a better place. It was drinking water. But as the dream progressed, I wanted to improve upon that idea.
I went out and recruited a few folks that I believed could help me realize this dream. Among them a high school friend and a guy from India. We were in a room with an expansive view of our town fast becoming a city.
I asked them spreading my arms abroad, look around and tell me what you see? They answered but did not get it. I told them the answer, “No! Things (times) are changing.”
We proceeded to build our business. I had them recruit others (college students) to help. Then I got another idea for a small powdered packet that would add flavor to the drink while simultaneously making it cool. I got the idea thinking about people in other countries living under sweltering heat.
With all of the college students assembled in the classroom (slowly becoming a cornfield) I had the stage floor. I told them that this is the beginning of a company! I started to tell them what they had to do to help this come about. Simultaneously they disagreed and got up to leave.
After my failure I was walking through town and thinking to myself, I’m going to get with the Indian (from India) and see if we could still go forward with my cool water idea. I was walking with my friend down this dusty raod flanked by a cornfield and an older man, a farmer must have heard us talking and approached us. He told us, boys years ago someone gave me some money in a car, and I want to share it with you. I began to thank the man profusely. My friend began the descent down the steep embankment. I found myself on top of an old semi.
I told the old farmer that I’ll find another way down to the car. He seemed to agree that that was fine. As I searched for a safe way down another older man began to talk with him.
They spoke about the national anthem and hos someone sang it today. The farmer said with all seriousness, something about “they ought not to let him sing it! Sing about my America! I’d get up there and sing it myself!
It was then that I realized that these men were WWII veterans and my respect for them grew immensely.
The End.
In the beginning of the dream, the sky was obviously cloudy and dark. Towards the end of the dream, the sky was a bright golden color. I do not even remember seeing the blue of the sky. I never actually made it to the car that contained the money.
This dream was still so strongly in my mind when I work, I knew immediately that I needed to write about it before it went away. I did my best to accurately describe the story. I wanted to present to you the main parts or points.
Specific details of the city and the faces of people on down to the Indian, the farmer, and even my high school friend are very sketchy as I do not really recall ever seeing the details of their faces. It was as if I was dreaming out of my peripherals, only in reverse. Meaning the faces was more visible if I did not look at them directly.
Weird dream … huh?
I had a dream that I was in my home town. I walked around with my mother and we discussed how they were tearing down different buildings and building new ones.
She told me of how years ago this old man was given a car. In the trunk of the car was millions of dollars. He took the money and built himself a house, and started a farm.
Then I had an idea for a product that would make the world a better place. It was drinking water. But as the dream progressed, I wanted to improve upon that idea.
I went out and recruited a few folks that I believed could help me realize this dream. Among them a high school friend and a guy from India. We were in a room with an expansive view of our town fast becoming a city.
I asked them spreading my arms abroad, look around and tell me what you see? They answered but did not get it. I told them the answer, “No! Things (times) are changing.”
We proceeded to build our business. I had them recruit others (college students) to help. Then I got another idea for a small powdered packet that would add flavor to the drink while simultaneously making it cool. I got the idea thinking about people in other countries living under sweltering heat.
With all of the college students assembled in the classroom (slowly becoming a cornfield) I had the stage floor. I told them that this is the beginning of a company! I started to tell them what they had to do to help this come about. Simultaneously they disagreed and got up to leave.
After my failure I was walking through town and thinking to myself, I’m going to get with the Indian (from India) and see if we could still go forward with my cool water idea. I was walking with my friend down this dusty raod flanked by a cornfield and an older man, a farmer must have heard us talking and approached us. He told us, boys years ago someone gave me some money in a car, and I want to share it with you. I began to thank the man profusely. My friend began the descent down the steep embankment. I found myself on top of an old semi.
I told the old farmer that I’ll find another way down to the car. He seemed to agree that that was fine. As I searched for a safe way down another older man began to talk with him.
They spoke about the national anthem and hos someone sang it today. The farmer said with all seriousness, something about “they ought not to let him sing it! Sing about my America! I’d get up there and sing it myself!
It was then that I realized that these men were WWII veterans and my respect for them grew immensely.
The End.
In the beginning of the dream, the sky was obviously cloudy and dark. Towards the end of the dream, the sky was a bright golden color. I do not even remember seeing the blue of the sky. I never actually made it to the car that contained the money.
This dream was still so strongly in my mind when I work, I knew immediately that I needed to write about it before it went away. I did my best to accurately describe the story. I wanted to present to you the main parts or points.
Specific details of the city and the faces of people on down to the Indian, the farmer, and even my high school friend are very sketchy as I do not really recall ever seeing the details of their faces. It was as if I was dreaming out of my peripherals, only in reverse. Meaning the faces was more visible if I did not look at them directly.
Weird dream … huh?
Monday, November 29, 2010
Hope For Tomorrow
No deep thoughts
It seems the levy is dry.
No sweet thoughts
Only the tears I’ve cried.
No free thoughts
Controlled by baser minds
No sleep thoughts
In insomnia I confide.
The song, it plays
The only sound I hear.
The song, it stays
So deep within my ear.
The song, it betrays
My most secret fears.
The song it plays
The song must end here.
The darkest night
Pinnacle of the sun’s way.
The darkest night
ALWAYS vanish away.
The darkest night
What more can I say.
The darkest night
Bring forth the brightest day.
It seems the levy is dry.
No sweet thoughts
Only the tears I’ve cried.
No free thoughts
Controlled by baser minds
No sleep thoughts
In insomnia I confide.
The song, it plays
The only sound I hear.
The song, it stays
So deep within my ear.
The song, it betrays
My most secret fears.
The song it plays
The song must end here.
The darkest night
Pinnacle of the sun’s way.
The darkest night
ALWAYS vanish away.
The darkest night
What more can I say.
The darkest night
Bring forth the brightest day.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Palaver
Blue skies call my name
I will answer just the same
White clouds underneath
Help me forget about my pain
Stars flash with brilliant flares
And I cannot but stand and stare
Earth is turning underneath
As I proceed without a care
HIS gentle voice is calling me
I behold HIS infinite majesty
Strong hands hold me underneath
No longer shadows now clearly I see
…YOU do love me
Rynal Grant “The Hopeless Romantic”
I will answer just the same
White clouds underneath
Help me forget about my pain
Stars flash with brilliant flares
And I cannot but stand and stare
Earth is turning underneath
As I proceed without a care
HIS gentle voice is calling me
I behold HIS infinite majesty
Strong hands hold me underneath
No longer shadows now clearly I see
…YOU do love me
Rynal Grant “The Hopeless Romantic”
Monday, November 15, 2010
Come On In, The Water’s Fine
The day at the Hotel was starting off reasonably good. As I walked into the office everyone was happy and all smiles. I shot the breakfast lady, Marcie my usual look of “nah, nah, ne-nah, nah” too which she responded with a scowl. This is our relationship. We kid back and forth like that. I proceeded to clock in pick up all maintence requests, my radio, clipboard, and off to the maintence shack. From there I began the general cleanup of the hotel grounds.
It was a cool Mississippi morning. I was grateful for this. This past summer was so very unkind to me. But the sun came out, it was still cool, and the day was for lack of a better word, gorgeous. I passed an elderly gentleman who spoke and said, “It turned out to be a nice day.” I replied, “So far, anyway.” He laughed rather hysterically at my response, but in my mind I felt I was a little negative. After all of those classes my Pastor taught on being “positive”, having a “PMA, positive mental attitude”, and “self-fulfilling prophecies”, I should have known better. But I went my way and completed all of my initial tasks.
The final task of the day is testing, cleaning, and opening the pool. This has to be done before 10am when the pool is to be officially opened. First I decided to brush the sides before vacuuming it. As I neared the deep end, Marcie stepped outside the kitchen and asked me a question. I answered it. Then Miss Judy showed up. She’s the head housekeeper. The harassment ensued. We went back and forth briefly. But I continued to brush the sides of the pool.
They began to say things like, don’t go falling in and such the like. I’m not clear on what I said. But I think I said, “I won’t fall in.” I’ve been cleaning the pool for almost 2yrs and never fell in before. Then I brushed the side of the pool one more time. Because I’m in the deep end, I’m trying to make sure I hit the walls all the way down to the bottom. In doing so, I leaned too far forward. Then I realize, like a cartoon character, that there was nothing holding me up except for gravity. All the flailing, arm waving, and yelling could not stop gravity from her nefarious deed. I went in head first into 60 degree water.
I came up for air. I’m panicking and trying to stabilize myself. As you all know, statics does not look favorably upon blacks and our swimming skills. Luck for me, I am in that 5% range that can swim. But there is a difference between diving into cool water and falling head first in to cold water! I got my bearings, found the edge and did a series of breast strokes to get out of the water. When I got to the edge I pushed myself down into the water and back out again to give myself some leverage to get out.
Once I am out I got a guest on my left arm tugging and one of the other breakfast ladies, Shelia, on my right arm tugging and helping me out of the water. Well, I was already out of the water and I said as much. Marcie who was watching me went and told Frank our General Manager who came running to see if I was okay. He glanced, saw that I was fine and went back inside. Marcie chided him for that, but had I been in Frank’s position, I would have done the same. Even the front desk girl, Kawanna came out briefly to see what was happening. Then promptly went back inside to “tweet” about it on facebook and twitter.
*Smiles and says, friends*
This is an accurate account of what occurred that day. My cell phone was in my pocket and my radio on my hip. Both got wet. As of this post, my cell phone is in good working order. If you wish to hear the M. Night Shyamalan version (the version with a twist at the end) you can contact Marcie the breakfast lady for that version. In her version, Sheila clears the pool fence without using the gate and pulls me out of the pool. Never mind that I’m 5’ 11”, 300lbs and Sheila is 5’6” 160lbs. Sheila must be Wonder Woman in disguise, or something. The moral of the story is … when an elderly gentleman says to you, “It turned out to be a nice day.” Reply to him, “Yes Sir, it sure has.”
-Rynal Grant “The Hopeless Romantic”
It was a cool Mississippi morning. I was grateful for this. This past summer was so very unkind to me. But the sun came out, it was still cool, and the day was for lack of a better word, gorgeous. I passed an elderly gentleman who spoke and said, “It turned out to be a nice day.” I replied, “So far, anyway.” He laughed rather hysterically at my response, but in my mind I felt I was a little negative. After all of those classes my Pastor taught on being “positive”, having a “PMA, positive mental attitude”, and “self-fulfilling prophecies”, I should have known better. But I went my way and completed all of my initial tasks.
The final task of the day is testing, cleaning, and opening the pool. This has to be done before 10am when the pool is to be officially opened. First I decided to brush the sides before vacuuming it. As I neared the deep end, Marcie stepped outside the kitchen and asked me a question. I answered it. Then Miss Judy showed up. She’s the head housekeeper. The harassment ensued. We went back and forth briefly. But I continued to brush the sides of the pool.
They began to say things like, don’t go falling in and such the like. I’m not clear on what I said. But I think I said, “I won’t fall in.” I’ve been cleaning the pool for almost 2yrs and never fell in before. Then I brushed the side of the pool one more time. Because I’m in the deep end, I’m trying to make sure I hit the walls all the way down to the bottom. In doing so, I leaned too far forward. Then I realize, like a cartoon character, that there was nothing holding me up except for gravity. All the flailing, arm waving, and yelling could not stop gravity from her nefarious deed. I went in head first into 60 degree water.
I came up for air. I’m panicking and trying to stabilize myself. As you all know, statics does not look favorably upon blacks and our swimming skills. Luck for me, I am in that 5% range that can swim. But there is a difference between diving into cool water and falling head first in to cold water! I got my bearings, found the edge and did a series of breast strokes to get out of the water. When I got to the edge I pushed myself down into the water and back out again to give myself some leverage to get out.
Once I am out I got a guest on my left arm tugging and one of the other breakfast ladies, Shelia, on my right arm tugging and helping me out of the water. Well, I was already out of the water and I said as much. Marcie who was watching me went and told Frank our General Manager who came running to see if I was okay. He glanced, saw that I was fine and went back inside. Marcie chided him for that, but had I been in Frank’s position, I would have done the same. Even the front desk girl, Kawanna came out briefly to see what was happening. Then promptly went back inside to “tweet” about it on facebook and twitter.
*Smiles and says, friends*
This is an accurate account of what occurred that day. My cell phone was in my pocket and my radio on my hip. Both got wet. As of this post, my cell phone is in good working order. If you wish to hear the M. Night Shyamalan version (the version with a twist at the end) you can contact Marcie the breakfast lady for that version. In her version, Sheila clears the pool fence without using the gate and pulls me out of the pool. Never mind that I’m 5’ 11”, 300lbs and Sheila is 5’6” 160lbs. Sheila must be Wonder Woman in disguise, or something. The moral of the story is … when an elderly gentleman says to you, “It turned out to be a nice day.” Reply to him, “Yes Sir, it sure has.”
-Rynal Grant “The Hopeless Romantic”
Monday, August 30, 2010
Unsympathetic
Times are changing in this crazy world, minds are straying on this hazy pearl, wasting precious knowledge on the insatiably lazy, chasing that elusive dream, a bottled genie.
Men are born amazed at their years of slumber. Babies die betrayed at the hands of their mothers, sacrificed to the gods who count and number themselves deserving of the adoration of others.
The voice of the oppressed go unheard on a daily basis, the deafening sound canceled on the mind's oasis, a pleasantry offered within the ignorant and walled cities of unbelief.
The gramophone has exhausted it's vinyl polymer, the gullible will soon meet their end. The music was made, they danced and they played and finally in the end they did win! His inheritance is gone with the wind.
And those who opposed the righteous' cause, which argued against them day and night, stood face to face with their own executioner's blade, reflecting the truth of their plight, uttered these word's to Death's unsympathetic face ...
"We were wrong, and they were right".
Men are born amazed at their years of slumber. Babies die betrayed at the hands of their mothers, sacrificed to the gods who count and number themselves deserving of the adoration of others.
The voice of the oppressed go unheard on a daily basis, the deafening sound canceled on the mind's oasis, a pleasantry offered within the ignorant and walled cities of unbelief.
The gramophone has exhausted it's vinyl polymer, the gullible will soon meet their end. The music was made, they danced and they played and finally in the end they did win! His inheritance is gone with the wind.
And those who opposed the righteous' cause, which argued against them day and night, stood face to face with their own executioner's blade, reflecting the truth of their plight, uttered these word's to Death's unsympathetic face ...
"We were wrong, and they were right".
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
A Fool's Rule
Am I to roam the dark of night without hearing from you?
Even as I walk and ponder, my heart, it yearns for you.
So I take a penny to splash a wish, a word concerning you,
Because I can't remember the nights I’ve spent without you.
The thought of you is soothing like a silk memory in the mind.
Your gentle blush is a wispy cloud accenting a blue laden sky.
Who is that one who’d dare attempt to occupy your time?
Tis I! Constantly thinking, praying, working to make you mine!
If desiring gold is a foolish thing, then a treasure hunter's a fool,
A pick, an axe, a rope, and compass are a fool's tools.
I find within that a sobering truth, a letter of the very rule,
My pen and paper, words and thoughts, make me a fool for you.
Even as I walk and ponder, my heart, it yearns for you.
So I take a penny to splash a wish, a word concerning you,
Because I can't remember the nights I’ve spent without you.
The thought of you is soothing like a silk memory in the mind.
Your gentle blush is a wispy cloud accenting a blue laden sky.
Who is that one who’d dare attempt to occupy your time?
Tis I! Constantly thinking, praying, working to make you mine!
If desiring gold is a foolish thing, then a treasure hunter's a fool,
A pick, an axe, a rope, and compass are a fool's tools.
I find within that a sobering truth, a letter of the very rule,
My pen and paper, words and thoughts, make me a fool for you.
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