SCRIPTURE: Jesus answered her, “If you knew the gift of God and who it is that asks you for a drink, you would have asked him and he would have given you living water.”

OBSERVE: Jesus was really tired from His journey and he chose to rest and get a drink from a Samaritan woman by a well. The woman thought he was just a prophet, yet Jesus chose to reveal Himself as Messiah to her.

APPLY: I know the gift of God, but too often I think I may take it for granted in my daily life. When life gets to be too fast paced or when my mind is so focused on worldly things I need to stop and remember to ask Jesus to fill my cup. Otherwise, on my own, my cup may get stagnate or empty.

PRAY: God, help me to recognize when my spiritual cup isn’t overflowing. Thank you for being merciful and patient with me even when I’m busy being disobedient. Jesus fill my cup so that I can face the day.

The crest of Summer…rationing delight.

Passing him by as the days grew shorter.

A tale of subjective adoration.

Her smile etched in his mind.

Her beauty…unspeakable.

Rationing delight.

Speaking, seething, with just one breath.

Bleeding, breeding, with just one’s words.

Borrow, your sorrow, if I could.

Gaunt, yet taut, that tongue sprung forth.

From cheeks he speaks, though you stood silent.

Those words, submerged, your spirit did cave.

Emptiness ensued, your soul he craved.

People, they tell you, be brave! Be brave!

But what if you can’t? He still berates.

His tirade, his trade, you’re pivotal in his charade.

Lest we forget the mind games he played?

Crowds continue to watch this parade.

Turning you slowly into a slave.

Mount revelation’s peak begins to speak.

You slowly begin to realize, your knees get weak.

Those eyes, so bleak.

Sanguine, your complexion, derived a meager conception.

Through it all, you’ve found direction.

Yet still lies this very infection.

His face rounded, his lips pursed.

He smiles slightly and signals his thirst.

Now revelation, your mountain, proceeds with his plan.

Your spirit, it rises, you begin to demand.

Explanations they come, your soul has settled, receiving his calm,

placing his hand into your palm,

then back to his eyes, to where you were first drawn.

You suddenly realize, this was your spawn.

Infinite thoughts of the simple mind.

Fighting ‘til our last breath, but do we have the time?

These are the thoughts of a simple mind.

Troves of treasure of which we can find.

Bleeding still, this heart o’ mine.

The pain I feel which I confine.

These are the thoughts of a simple mind.

Skies of blue trading your kind.

The winds of the past on which you dine.

Feeling scared, yet so sublime.

These are the thoughts of a simple mind.

Sacred confounds, on the Potter’s dime.

Shackles puncture this penny’s time.

How much will you pay for peace of mind?

These are the thoughts of a simple mind.

Sunrise sunset, can you hear the chime?

Is this not but an epitome of time?

The bar is risen, no tolerance for crime.

These are the thoughts of a simple mind.

Passionate thoughts of the thoughtless that mine.

Richness once was, out of reach…so divine.

Gracious my heart, willingness to refine.

These are the infinite thoughts of a simple mind.

Bodies bursting and vultures are feeding…martyrs crying and dying in vain, indefinitely indebted to the slave masters of the airwaves and their doctrine of extremism. Like sheep to the cliff, they have no shepherd. Only one voice guides them, harkening to passionate tones of hate. “Death to the infidel,” they chant; mindless incantations of hybrid creation. For the East meets the West in a parody of fatalities…playing a deadly game to the likes of which have been seen many times before since the dawn of man.

“Death to Israel”, they say, over and over. Ahmadinejad, the Vessel, threatens “nuclear holocaust”. Persia o’er time adopted a new namesake “Iran”. The word “Iran” is the Persian word for land/place of the Aryan. The Vessel has a mission and the world is listening…even though the main populous is in a state of oblivion. “Our revolution’s main mission is to pave the way for the reappearance of the 12^th Imam, the Mahdi.” Ahmadinejad (November 2005).  He believes there is only one way to pave the way…one way to hasten the reappearance of Imam Mahdi and that is through massive bloodshed and war directed straight towards Israel. Hybrid…Aryan, Persia, Iran…an ideologue…a partnership of hate towards Jews, sentiments shared with Germany, Russia and other parts of Europe back in Hitler’s day still exist to this day…National Socialists and the Russian communists of yesteryear are still alive and well in our society today.

“Death to the infidel, death to the Jews, death to the Christians,” they say. Take heed to these words, do not be a fool…do not dine on mirages pasted in your faces. This isn’t a war on terror, the Democrats, the Republicans…the liberal and conservative think tanks. Regardless of leadership, are all on the same page. You see, we’ve surrounded Iran, through the war in Iraq and Afghanistan…free countries and coalitions…Jews and gentiles. This isn’t a war on terror, they simply cannot call it a holy war, or a war on Islam…yet in essence, that’s exactly what it is. Let them keep praying to their false god, for our God is a God of love and freedom. He is just and protects…like when Moses’ rod turned into a serpent and the three Egyptian magicians did the same. When the darkness is brought into the light, the enemies, their weapons and insidious devices cannot prosper…and just like in Moses’ time…they will be devoured.

The “War on Terror” will not end in our lifetime. It simply cannot and it will eventually pour out in true biblical form. If you do not believe this, then go ahead and look at the science. Trends in population and energy consumption show that we’re headed into dark times in the next 25-50 years. This is unsustainable and humanity is on a collision course with fate.

Beckoning to the lowly eclipse as conditions bring me to my knees, reminiscent to the days where fun was to be had and sweat lingered. Sounds of laughter echo through a joyous timeline in my mind.

However, mental notes depreciate in time.  In life, things lose value and so do the precious memories that drift away. You see, once we stop making memories, they eventually turn into dreams and then perish into the night.

Old dogs may not learn new tricks, but they’re still oh so happy and loyal typically ‘til their dying breath. We are creatures in a kingdom at the top of the chain, so hold your head up, there’s more to this life for you. So much to give and in return your youth and happiness shall remain intact.

May treads be set, so that you’re mental wealth cannot extinguish…’til your dying breath.

The stepping stone of mortality acquiesces through this life to the next through each step. Rhythmic pace flesh to spirit…flesh to spirit. Rinse and cleanse thoroughly reaping Earthly benefits.

Through the tirade and rambunctiousness within them, there is a still clear portrait. We march with pride…such vigor beyond the capabilities of past generations. A universal heartbeat, harmonious wind chimes of this breathing world.

The compass collapses due to the heavy lockstep, in part to the free will of the living. Through chaos and despair, the wind is still coming. The metal rods clang and still ring true, piercing through the turmoil and yet still, through new lack of direction…senses disheveled, there, a melody ensues.

The time is heavy and they know it is now the masses drawn to this self portrait of sorts. Like moths to a flame minds are opening wide with dilated pupils. The last of this so called organic evolution, minds united in theory… finally see it coming. As they gaze in awe, grounded, immovable, yet shaken to the core illuminated filaments conform and surrender to the inevitable bond and the pixels become a visionary delight. Awestruck in their misery, bloodlust in their power.

Mad men spoke and to that which is them, became gods. Nuclear storms shower the Earth like manna, Ares himself could not have crafted such a holocaust.

Chilly Venetian morn’, the patter of rain…it excites me so. For each bridge robs my breath with the anticipation of kisses, kisses, kisses. Slowly we drift and make our way through… chills enthrall me and overtake my core. I awaken to the sound of your voice…We may not have Venice, but I have what matters most…your kisses, kisses, kisses.

The treacherous disposition of solitude is far better than a gully of betrayal. Emptiness in their words won’t fill a gap in so much as one heart. Acta non verba.* Resurrected words that still ring true, do unto others as you would have others do unto you.

*Action not words

When I write, I want the words to reverberate and touch people.  Other times I want to eviscerate the belly of minds…I want to provoke your emotions and leave the story hopeless, or unfinished, on purpose to remind you that the road of life is bumpy at times. All too often we feel the need for a happy ending because it makes us feel good. While that’s true, even for me, I have to admit some of my best writing moods hit me when I allow myself to find solace in the dark. The stress of this can be challenging for my mind at times.  Rather than consume me, it eventually quells my soul. The same rings true for my romanticized poetry and writings, because any honest human mind craves to be loved and longs to find it. Open your mind and rather than sandals, shoes, and conforming to walkways travel with me barefoot down my mind’s off beaten path. I promise to cherish and nurture you through my writings. Through storms and steel blue skies I will share the moment’s weather without hesitation, because you’re a gift to be treasured.