When I Paint My Masters Piece or The Great American Shovel By Crackedbackeddiscus Shots Part 2

READINGISFUNDAMENTAL
/or/
LEARNINGTOFLYTHEOLDSCHOOLBFF
I was never much for school after about 4th grade. To be honest, I found it boring. Now we lived in the South quadrant in Parkchester, I guess that’s why St. Helena’s was our parish. Church and grade school all in one compound. If you didn’t grow up Catholic I don’t think any description I or anyone else could give would be adequate. In my early years it was mostly nuns who taught at or school. Often the nuns seemed brutal, and other times compassionate saints. Yard sticks were common still in those days, but slowly fading away.As time passed there were more and more lay teachers. There are several I remember and even some I’ve seen on Facebook. One in particular who I’m glad we had now was Miss Swain.
I’m thinking 4th or 5th grade. The thing that makes me thankful was
that, she, somehow, through this thick skull of mine made reading exciting, which later became a very important and exciting part of my life.
It was during her class that each day, I’m really not sure when, or how long it was, that she would read a portion from a book to us. And the one I remember most was Charlie And The Chocolate Factory. There have been several movies made of it, but none compared to the times sitting in Miss Swains class with my eyes half closed thinking about that golden ticket, and what a wondrous and amazing place this chocolate factories was. You see for me this was the time when I learned how a good story could draw you in and make you feel like you are apart of it, like you are actually standing where the characters are and in fact it’s as if I became a
character in the story right there with the others. We had many teachers
throughout our time there at St. Helena’s, and honestly I had a bigger crush on Miss Foley, but without Miss Swain and her reading to us, my life would have been completely different. (Of course St. Catherine’s math phonograph records and her antics up and down the rows of desks was beyond compare. But that was math, and this is nouns, if you will.)
I would have never known the feeling of standing on the deck of the Pequad as Capt. Ahab reached out and grabbed St. Elmo’s Fire, or the fear and uneasiness of waiting to see what would happen to us, when the police find out Johnny stabbed the soch, who was holding Ponyboy under the water, or seeing the police shoot Dally whose gun wasn’t even loaded. I mean, I was there, at all those events, and you probably were too. I was sitting in that balcony with Scout as Atticus defended Tom Robinson, and I was there when Ralph breaks down over over the death of “Piggy”. Like some sorta cross between Little Big Man and Forest Gump, I was always there at the crucial moments in history. Thank you, Miss Swain
and St. Helena’s and authors everywhere who shaped my life and love for stories fictitious and real, and for memories that I carry around in my mind of good times and bad times, good friends and former enemies. So next time you are reminiscing about those good old days, stop for a moment, listen for that distant wind, and meet me at the flagpole to talk over those events that shaped our lives and made us friends forever regardless how often we talk or see each other. or fought. The
original, BFF’s if you will, old school style! From about 4th grade until our early twenties, the people that I knew, hung with, fought with, embarrassed my self in front of will always be a part of me, just like those characters in those novels will be.
R.P.filoS
all rights reserved

WRITINGSFORTHEREVOLUTION

WRITINGSFORTHEREVOLUTION

/or/
EVOLUTIONOFCORPORATEPOLUTION
/or/
USAPOLITICALPROSTITUTION
POETICESSAYSINYOURFACE
/or/
ACADEMIASDISGRACE
/or/
GETMEOUTTATHISPLACE
how’s that food taste
exactly it’s really waste
how bout that bottled spring water
poision in plastic tapped a billion gallons for a quarter
the air you breath
they sprayed it with every disease
your retirement
looted by you government
heath care
not there
9/11 please
the storys so full of holes, looks like swiss cheese
radiation safe do not doubt
none, but if need be just raise the count
if you think you gettin’ the truth
you better think again
take all the time you need
cause by that time, you will have been brought to your knees
your rivers run red
your children are dead
but you got a stupid football game in your head
if thats not working two political teams
will be the next dream
we’ll take you to the moon
to infinity and beyond
stupid humans
wake up
and shake it up!
R:P.filos
arr copywrite
20fifteen

THE NEW BIRTH (leaving the garden in search of a home)

Dawn breaking compasses my soul
consciousness contends brutally
fighting in an attempt
to raze control
There is a shaking, quaking required rift
post modern Pangaea splitting
quaking, cracking requirement
compassion demands its sift
Abrupt is the breaking of this dome
dispersed, discarded, destroyed,
me and millions waddling
toward it’s light
Rebirth has fantastic hurdles
deep, high, wide,but
never alone
these are turtles
us? merely men
10$21$15

THE ONLY CURE

THE ONLY CURE

compressioN
depressioN
conjunktioN
disfunktioN
corruptioN
connectioN
detectioN
detentioN
more tensioN
less mentioN
time to ratioN
not for passioN
iF I’m the only one that feels
thaT feels this way
thiS way almost every day
doeS that make it less real
iS it I, knows not how to feel
iF you really knew me
reallY knew my desire
tO hell with the devil
givE me that Holy Ghost fire
lesS robert
morE JESUS
makeS the world a better place
I am not religious of that be sure
jusT love me the SAVIOR
whY? HE IS THE ONLY CURE

nothingleft/or/allin

 
if only you had known the volume of tears
i cried in that solitude where only God hears
like a coward in battle, hiding year after year
could it have been caused by an absence in me of fear
perhaps an abundance, yes, that deposited me here
would it have mattered, or might it  still be unclear
shaking and rattling like a broken brass gear
completely diminished, a fool, cavalier
like an abandoned old lighthouse whose beacon disappears
trying to find where the rocks be has left me drowning  in arrears
reflecting on past moments my life lessons appear 
as visions of headlights that froze that young deer
all the while casts a long shadow on the children so near
i would rather they stay innocent, so precious, so dear
nothing left when i look, nothing at all when i peer
the band plays all the old hits, and yet still no one cheers
like a dry desert wind passing harshly through these ears
a lifetime of imaginations, moving through my mind become just  smear
how i long for that land where confusion was clear
i’ve got to find the a way back, i must persevere
are you blind can you see,deaf can hear
it couldn’t be me cause i know that i’m sincere
EPILOGUE
BUT JESUS IS ALWAYS
HERE
NEAR
CLEAR
DEAR
NOT GIVEN TO US A SPIRIT OF FEAR
THE ANGELS IN HEAVEN SOUND THE HOLY CHEER
AS EVEN ONE AS ME DOTH DRAWS NEAR
WE WITH PATIENCE, ENDURANCE, WAIT FOR HIM TO APPEAR
 
 

THEOLDFOLKTREE COULDITBEME Zuzu’s Petals

ZUZU’S PETALS MORE PRECIOUS THAN GOLD

 
always try to write the story
and every time i do
the ending is changing
can’t ever seem to find the words
that say how i really feel
i’m never on the right page
am I in the first chapter
or can this be the last
complex etymology
the page numbers seem to float
gently to the ground
like leaves on a fall afternoon
where can I find the title
or the prologue to the epilogue
I see the the faces of all those people
that we’ve known and have
showed love toward us
like the finest engravings they are
printed across the timeline of my mind
are we headed north, or has it all
gone south what I mean is that
its so hard to tell the story of life
without all the pieces on the table
those outer pieces get the
whole thing started but
where they are sometimes I don’t know
cast aside or brushed onto the floor
to be swept away, or under some
imitation Persian carpet that we bought
so long, long, ago at a fleece market
what will be the binding, thread, glue?
leather bound, gold-leaf, embossed?
today always seems as if the story
is about to end, then again
today seems like writing the first lines
a long road traveled one day
the beginning of a journey the next
is there anyone listening
are there none who care to or dare to
roll down the hill like the children
breath deep the air that has the freedom
to go here, go there,
the times changed long ago and far away
for our generation
now today is today
tomorrow becomes the braves index
leading us up from the grave
to enjoy what we have been given
to stop, look, listen
as long as we can for as long as we do
then to realize that pages, chapters, volumes
are only that, words…all talk
but rising from my simple simon chair
with zuzu’s petals in my pocket
still makes the heart of this old traveler
cry tears of joy once more
wonder, o wonder, what a life this is and was and will be
 

who is Zuzu : Rebekah, Hannah. Joannah, Tabithah, Keturah

https://youtu.be/K5gbNf0daowjh1

CHRISTIAN PERSECUTION IN END TIMES

worth a read

meanlittleboy2

Living for Christ in the End Times

A challenge to prepare for His soon return.

by Dr. David R. Reagan

Living For Christ

The Bible clearly teaches that society will degenerate in the end times, becoming as evil as it was in the days of Noah (Matthew 24:37-39). The Apostle Paul, speaking as a prophet, says that society will descend into a black pit of immorality, violence, and paganism (2 Timothy 3:1-5). He asserts that men will be “lovers of self, lovers of money, and lovers of pleasure.” People will be “boastful, arrogant, and unholy,” and children will be “disobedient to parents.”

Sounds like the evening news, doesn’t it? In short, we have arrived.

Signs of Coming Persecution

We should be deeply concerned over these developments, not only because we are witnessing the destruction of our beloved America, but because both Jesus and Paul prophesied that when these things…

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