TUSKER QUEEN

This is the TUSKER QUEEN!

Elephants are the most regal creatures on land-to me, anyway! The way they walk and tread their land is majestic. I ran across this picture of the Tusker Queen and was so impressed, fascinated by the size of her tusks and the surreal quality of the photos being black and white just made the images that much more stark! This Queen has passed from this world and there are a rare few left of these giants. I believe I read there were only 30 left. Thanks to poachers, I’m sure! It saddens me that I love billiards so much but that in my small way I have helped to kill these mighty animals. Billiard balls are made of their ivory, their tusks. It brings into reality how humans affect this planet in too many ways, even by those that worry about the dirt we live on. Soon, like the mammoths, elephants will be extinct as well! I wrote this for the Tusker Queen!

I am..
Your Majesty! The Tusker’s Queen..
I bequeath to you the world unseen.
I am God’s rumination in the flesh..
and I leave this world to you in death.
Remember where I once did walk..
Giants destined by man to fall!
I am the Elephant Queen..
and I leave you all that I have seen.
The majestic that you know..
Is small compared to me and you can feel the rumble of my mirth in the voice of my low..
my deepest greetings in my girth
Feel free to bow or walk away,
Free to know that I have gone,
To the mightiest of all places,
To the safest of all spaces…
and I will miss you,
as you miss me. yet..
When you least expect,
You’ll hear me in the thunder
and I will shower you with blessings..
Be convicted in my presence,
Consonant in my essence..
I am the Tusker Queen! 

ROCKETSHIP REPRIEVE 10-14-2021

Fascination..
stared deep into the depths of space,
thinking to itself..
there I be,
But for God’s Grace..
A lonely rock,
Scattered ‘pon darkened shore,
blasted poor and puny..with no life..
And no recourse.
But no..By the by,
I am life upon a planet,
Of green, of air..
Animals and granite..
I am but a breath of life,
Measured in years,
With all its woes..
All its tears.
Yet in between my birth and grave,
A search for knowledge is what we crave…
And while we search,
Search from out our dearth,
We dwell upon this tiny Earth,
Finding beauty in its crevasses..
Brightest colors pleasing masses.
And slowly, slowly, we make this dirt..
Into ashes as with fate we flirt..
so now…
We turn our eyes up to the stars,
Wishing, hoping our way past Mars…But,
Until the time that time does come
when finally we can leave
upon a rocketship reprieve;
I’l stare deep out to darkest space..
In fascination of God’s grace!
PeaceĀ 

CLIMATE CHANGE IS NOT A HOAX!

GOD BLESS US IN OUR POVERTY 10-14-2021

I was having a disagreement with a fella online. We were going back and forth regarding some political BS. Long story short, he proceeded to legitimize his credibility by saying he was a humanitarian and thus his opinion carried more weight and truth since he did an astounding amount of good works(deeds). I know by the fact he proceeded to roll out a screed of all his accomplishments from NC to Louisiana to etc., etc., etc.

I left off the discussion by quoting Matthew 6:1-4 regarding doing such work in secret. I always felt people who did this rode on the backs of the poor and downtrodden for their own notoriety. I’ve know many like him that do such work but never telling anyone about it and they constantly amaze me with their hidden magnanimity. I admire such people.

This poem is not one of those pat on the backs. It’s about churches and the cost of being a member. I left because the cost to my soul was more than I was willing to pay:

I step into the church’s foyer,
look around to see the riches of God’s grace…
come to roost upon this place.

The coolness on the walls,
the sheen of rich oozing out its pores..
of lavish, polished wood.

I gather wrinkly, ragged coat..
underneath me my feet float..
to a pew.

I await to tell my sins,
ask forgiveness once again,
as I think of family and friends..
shedding money for the wares..
being offered as the pastor stares.

I watch the old
as well as new and think..
of all they give and do..
to keep the church’s walls pristeen,
while at home it’s barely clean.

Should I buy food?
or pay the rent?
while bills pile high on my old table..
knowing well my check is just a fable.

Talked about,
never true,
just enough for maybe two..
or 3 days of drink

Then remember as I think,
I’m now sober..
cuz what’s left to the church turned over..
thanks to thee,
God bless me in my poverty!

Peace