Hate Burns Purity

hate burns purity

like a blood soaked kiss on snow

left stained until Spring

His Love saves

rabid love consumes
the shadow of a corpse moans
His Son breathes life in

March on Through the Wind

“March on march on through the wind and hail
we will not be bound to the lies they tell”

as more and more technology is released unto the hounds
reality slips further and further away
days blurr into pea soup
while the masses shoot up on
influenced illnesses
gobbling down prescriptions to get them through
their own created crisis
passing down ignorance
populating a country with mutants
this is what you get for 21 century intelligence

“But I need this, I need this fix to fill in
all the empty I’ve been told needs filling, my life
is such a mess, I’m soo deep in there’s nothing of me left”
humanities epitaph

the road is paved,gleaming over with pride and greed
disease and death
no mater how much fame and wealth you possess
nor how many people in the world know your name
doing anything to obtain popularity among men
is all done so in vain
none of that can give you breath
only those who give up their life
will live on after death

many will be chained to and
held back by the maddening reign of mediocrity
but a few rise above the tide and thrive
refusing to climb aboard the ship of vanities
a ship on coarse to collide with a predetermined destiny
it carries the twisted ideas of individualism and success
attached to the envy and foolishness
of souls who give up their place in the eternal kingdom
for an income fit for the dead

the strong clothe themselves in humbleness and
soar above the sky and land billowing with fumes of foolishness, arrogance, selfishness,
sickness and poverty of the soul
watching in sorrow
of all the possibilities a brand new world holds
chosen to bare the dream
is one that mankind’s
blacked to ash
turning their backs
trampling on the precious gift;
that of which is the meaning of our existence

here in tribulation we joyfully stand
with sight we see and a knowing we understand
our voices shout out praise and thanks to He who
gives us grace
He who delivers us from evil
He who gives us strength to defeat the great deceiver
His word is food for all believers
here in salvation seekers find the one and only truth
the one truth that severs mankind’s freedom noose




I stood casually

coolly consoling the frothy waves

of confusion

swigging around in my brain

elbows on the counter

talking half in jest

half in desperation

to the lady in white

who was less than thrilled

to have an unexpected guest clock in after “normal” hours.


I looked to my left

down the long dark hallway

lit at the very end

by one centered ceiling light

shinning down

on a thrift store

faux wooden chair

against the wall

barred window behind it

that chair


staring back at me

daring me

to sit and join in the chaos its collected over the decades


even in the simplicity of its madness

it was beautiful

a single piece of calm art

like still waters disguising  below the

unknown busyness of its hidden occupants

and knowing what was

behind the closed doorways

that lined down that hallway


and the only thing  i knew

was that it would be minutes

before I too

became a guest

another soul

invisible under the florescent lights

Every Day the Cross

Though the enemy is all around me

I live in victory

standing, washed by the blood

My Savior gave and

died to save me

free me from

everything mans world thrives to destroy us in

he folds His arms around me

Strengthens me with His grace

it burns so boldly within me

protecting me from the evil this world so eagerly embraces

i was drowning in

brought  down by

smothered in


selfish neediness

swimming in pools of human cells

listening to the diseased vocabulary

spewed out

spilled forth from

deceitful lips

hiding behind beguiling smiles

a kind of ugly makeup

covering up nothing greater than

the wisdom

fools prides themselves kings of

believing fortune is found within mankind

there is no rebirth in fairy tales and wallstreet

it’s  found at the feet of the cross

The Man, the Son of God sent to save us all

our sins cleaned up white

a new creature

a bold new life

that old life disgusts me

the sins I used to indulge in

while saying out loud

what a good person I am

The Spirit opened my eyes to the truth

it’s a new world i walk in

shrouded in

a simplicity of beauty missed by so many

who are burning out

chasing after a quick fix to satisfy a moment, a person, a trend, a belief, a statement, a law ,a rule

another man or women

this fleeting life

make it burn bright

outside of yourself

the real prize is beyond our needs

don’t be a slave to lists ,institutions and religions  that dictate the day to you

give up the chains

see beyond the obessive greediness

give graciously

temporary is any  personal pleasure, accommodation , jewel or stock

there isn’t any power in the tangible

it all means nothing when death constantly hovers over you

waiting to take you back

naked as the day you were born

you can choose

this is His gift to you

eternity in Heaven or hell


an existence in unimaginable fulfillment

or in unimaginable  constant pain

into the clouds love go

 La Belle Dame sans Merci (Sir Frank Dicksee, 1903)

La Belle Dame sans Merci (Sir Frank Dicksee, 1903)

I called on a king and horse for a ride

to whisk me away past every last cloud

in turn he asked when taking my hand if I’d be his new bride

and rule with him in a far off land where the whole of truth reigns


he mends and shelters my broken heart

until the disease of emptiness within it departs

til  my spirit spills over from the fullness of  loves power

the beast that is famine now  satisfied

his pure heart prevails, into the kind suns warmth we set sail

to a peaceful realm, in the kingdom of  blue and gold towers

a beautiful life we live in promised absolute happiness

entwined forever until the hour that steals our very last breath

The Narcissist Bar Star


you were dissed in high school

dismissed , never kissed

invisible to all the pretty girls

ignored by those you thought were the “cool” kids

*       *

then after a “serious,” teen heartache

which lasted as long as this poem takes

through with being  rejected

 reflecting in the mirror

saw clearer to what vanity could create

and turning away from the light,  choose a dark fate

now you could escape who you really are

get back at the world who scarred you

and so was birthed from within- an inner sub-criminal, dis social, psychopath,

king of narcissists, discriminatory thief of characteristics

*          *

Career? That was an easy choice

the place with the least amount of responsibility

where the reality of truth had best invisibility

and talent and creativity are misleading

where any trace of blatant phoniness, lying and flagrancy

cease to exist,

what better a place for a infantile narcissist to show off his

 naked lying face while  “charading” in bliss?

The Bar!

*       *

and so with giddiness

and glee

intoxicated on contradictions

lacking in confidence but poised ready and smiling,

  his mother driving him

down the road, round the bend

sure of conquering what’s at the end

in becoming

…..the hometown Bar Star

*      *

  the crowds here are easy

just learn some chords

they don’t even have to be yours

no one cares you’re a replicate on replay

they can’ t see the charade

and there’s never a challenge of credibility

of a guy with a guitar

impersonating, masquerading

playing music by real stars

who are  “blowin” up the radio

*      *

this is where extreme narcissists full in histrionics- are welcome

  guys stake their ground, shaking hands like a Russian mafioso

“hi man whats up, you going to my next show?”

where guys pushing 40, are free to

hit on the under 20s

in a skewed reality

 thinking…they are quite normal

*        *

The bar is a haven, housing emotionless relationships

where love is built in cheesy nourishment’s

dripping in lies and redundant lines like

“hi hun, how’s my sweat little thing?”

*      *

to keep the lie, that he is alive

he needs a constant supply of applause and adulation

to fuel dead emotions so he can beguile

swaying and distracting

your attentions away

 determining  your worth in qualities

confiscating the ones, useful in variety

to add to the image of star

*     *

but away from the bar

the narcissist will insist he’s above such “lowly” crowds

yet here is where he finds his supply-

 a corral  of  penned up sheep parts

currently trending in popularity

*          *

The Bar Star narcissist

feeds to replenish his eternal emptiness

camouflaging his dullness to clothe his blank, bleakness

creating a functional social round setting of normality, while

blanketing a


fabricated from

what he covets

and covertly envies-

ultimately- to cover up the disgust of who he is really

*      *

Be forewarned, the Bar Star will never retire

his dire condition demands durable enablers

like desperate groupies and yes, his mommie

here’s a tip for those hanging by the band at the bar waiting for Mr. tomorrow-

don’t fall for the lame guy who’s making you feel so (blah) special

like you and him share some  personal connection

 his affections are there to ensure  he gets back , positivity

 and possibly he’ll ask what  he should be pinning on (Pinterest)-

just to seem well rounded in interest

he’ll  boast, always humbly,  telling you how well traveled he is

although he’s never even lived outside of his home

in all the time since you’ve been alive

trust your instincts and not the flattery, it’s not for you anyway

*      *

the narcissist only finds worth

in his obsessing and chasing his dream

to fix an un-fixable bruised ego of a guy trapped as a teen-

denied the supreme senior reign

the  proms crowning glory


the high school class king

and all over,


    ……………………………The Bar Star Lives On

This is dVerse‘ last link up for this year! Head on over and read some amazing poems ! Looking forward to Next Year! Thanks dVerse for being YOU!