Precious Guest
The Call
A New Creation
Fear of Man
The Unsearchable Ways of God
The Desert
Humility
War Games
Grabbing
City Dwellers
Evolution – A Poem of Tact, Diplomacy, and Gentle Persuasion
Abortion
The Specter of Fear
Atheists Cry
Judging
The Rest of God
We Are Branches, We Are One
The Wild
Have You Any Idea?
Desolation
Uncertainty
Resilience
Eggs
Money
All You Religious
The Sword
Delay
Bellyache, Bellyache
Friend, Are You?
Pioneers
Ode to a Harlot
The Higher Plane
Water Does Not Always Find the Lowest Level
The Chameleon
The Frenzy of Life
The Twice Dead
The Child of Evil
Terrible Good
Truth
The Vices’ Voices
A Sunset Seen
Help in Disguise
Help
Rools Four Inglish Spelling
I See a Boy
The Fire of God
Mystery
Immaturity
Periphery
God Reigns Supreme
Alone
Emptiness Within
I, The Wealthy Outcast
Day of Jubilee
My Boy
Come with Me
Two Adams
Bitterness
Stoning the Mirror
Poems
It is bad enough to watch a dog vomit though by vomiting it may well expel that which ails it. Then it is a pleasant experience to behold a healthy creature. But bad is bad when one witnesses the return of a dog to its vomit only to lick it up again. I do not know of many more disgusting spectacles to witness in all of existence.
Up from the pits of Hell
Come the vilest of the vile;
These are the has-beens of yester-year,
Full of venom and guile.
These have known the truth of God;
They have known His love and power,
His mercy to loveless men;
His goodness has made them sour.
Why do angels fall?
Why do just men call
On gods who have nothing to give?
Why do fools choose death
In order that they may live?
Now here is a marvelous thing
That would make any devil sing:
It is easier to find
The seeing man crying to be blind
Than it is the blind to see.
Lethbridge, Alta., June 1985
Wee knead ownlee two studdie a langwidge uther than Inglish and soon beegin too diskover thuh mullteatood uv inncunsistenseas inn grambarr and spelling uv Inglish.
And isn't it interesting that when Esperanto is introduced with its reason, logic and organized structure, we nevertheless prefer the disorder and confusion of our own language, be it English or otherwise? Needless to say, this is not the day of peace, harmony and wun tung four awl. Rite? Write? Reight? Right?
Ring rang rung, Bring brang brung,
Sing sang sung, Ding dang dung!
Rools Four Inglish Spelling
Wun. Teak lawjick, kut it down as aye bough and
throw it inn aye slough ore aye trough. Butt that is knot enough.
Too. Bee prepaired two bee confowndead, purpleckst
and frustraited.
Therdlee. Eckspecked two suspecked loozing yore
mined.
Fore. Dew knot feal thair iz eckneething rong
with yoo.
Phive. Fourghet triying two halve aye shoor phyre
sisthame.
Sicks. Thee unfourchunit groop yule joyne iph
ignouring mie cownsull, and
Seaven. Rimes with heven four whitch yu must hoap
aund whitch iz whare yu mey think yu gow iff yu kwit inglish
aund teak up sum uther langwidge.
Lethbridge, 1984, 85
This was written at a time when we lived in a literal desert in Israel and I could feel all the things expressed, within my soul, because we were also in a desert in our spiritual lives, a desert through which all pilgrims on the journey to the city of God must pass.
This writing was also prophetic of events that would shortly come to pass as we spoke the Word of God to Paul, whom the Lord had given us to be our friend. As a matter of coincidental fact, the day of this introductory writing (Oct. 9) is, I believe, the very anniversary almost to the hour, of Paul forsaking his wife in obedience to the Lord, to walk in the Way of Life.
The desert is dry and parched, and I am hot and thirsty;
We two have been matched as partners in this stretch of our history.
The sun’s scorching face is forceful enough; from it I can find no escape,
No shade, no water, no nightfall to comfort my soul in its wearisome journey.
Miles and miles of burning sand, I scarcely know where it began…
It started with greenery, then greenery and sand, and now it is sand upon sand.
Yet after some miles I’ve trodden and feel I can go no farther,
A trickle of water comes out of a rock, destined for that very hour.
With leanness of soul and hungering for life, not a soul for months have I seen,
And all my possessions have slowly been lost, ’til much lighter my journey has been.
It’s strange how the harder the trials, the sweeter the life becomes;
The easier the life filled with comforts, the more ...