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Poetry

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Spontaneous

SPONTANEOUS 

Stripped of the script,
Embraced by the unscripted,
My lip zipped till my mind,
Sifted, then lifted
Feeling the shift
From what was said
To the unsaid
Without dread of
What is to be said
So others can be led
Upstairs from despair
Nothing erroneous
About spontaneous.

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Psalm 42 : 7

Deep calls to deep
revealing everything is related
as is everyone being
made from the same clay
so it is stated.
As deep calls to deep
as faith calls forth more faith
as Ancient calls youth
since the days of old
answering the question
"What is Truth?"
based on what was told.

There's nothing new under the sun,
yet all becomes new by My Son.

For the truth, way, and life is My Son.
Truth becomes a lived reality
by commitment to Him, the One.
As deep calls to deep
I, the Lord, do all these things.
Hear me, your Father, as I sing.
I, the Ancient, call you my off-spring.

There's nothing new under the sun,
yet you grow newer by My Son.

Deep calls to deep as
I create prosperity
and create disaster.
So which above
is the Jar of Alabaster?
What seemed as waste
by one summation,
was transformed by Grace
into worship and adoration.

The Lord is sovereign.
I'm in his keep.
That's what I hear when deep sings to deep.

George Landolt
12/05/2004

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One-upping too

One-upping too

It’s all about you

while stepping over me

thought you were through

one-upping me 

how was I

when you were

one-upping me

I was stopped so I

could make it about you

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Mine

There once was a boy who was a man who stood next to a man who was a boy.

The boy ask the man who he was.

The man began to talk about himself

until the boy interrupted and asked again

who he was. The man became irritated

and continued talking about himself.

The boy again asked who he was.

The man walked away angry that the boy

seemed to ignore everything he said.

Then, standing alone, the boy heard

a gentle voice inside of him saying

“Son, you are mine and thanks for asking”.

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Merci for the Mercy-Seat

The Well of Grief where the troubles end well while wounded and feeling the death grip of hell.

But my wounds drawing from the well of grief,

my brokeness, my anger,  sense no relief.

Are these from the Father or the thief?

My heart? Dead, buried, or just broken?

Depending, is my reaction to what is spoken.

Or is the fact that I in the past would react,

when instead by faith I can now just act.

Shame distorts the well of grief

denying it to be the Mercy-seat,

a man of sorrows who washes our feet,

this holy affair where anger, we don’t meet.

The cross, Psalm 85:10, doubly sweet.

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Mine

There once was a boy who was a man who stood next to a man who was a boy.

The boy ask the man who he was.

The man began to talk about himself

until the boy interrupted and asked again

who he was. The man became irritated

and continued talking about himself.

The boy again asked who he was.

The man walked away angry that the boy

seemed to ignore everything he said.

Then, standing alone, the boy heard

a gentle voice inside of him saying 

"Son, you are mine and thanks for asking".

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Wrestling with the Struggle

                   The Mat is where it's at!                            

Unfolding of the mat gives light to purpose and prize                  

as unfolding of God's Word gives light, making the simple wise.                                  

The mat is protection to the athlete from the fall.                                       

It softens the blow when you give it your all.                                    

It's boundaries are there to guide and to direct                                          

as well as determine the fullness of effect                                             

which is the grace of God for the elect.                                              

On it flow tears of joy and celebration                                             

as well as suffering and false accusation.                                    

Limiting experience to it's presence by rules of law                                           

it's the Spirit of such that removes the flaw.                                                   

To win and not lose seems the task,                                                     

The crown of victory is the mask.                                              

Guidance by the eye of the Father                                                       

through which to trust and obey.                                                               

It's not to win or lose                                                           

but Grace to be able to play.                                                                

To be "Pro Wrestling",                                                             

you're "For the Struggle"                                        

now limiting other choices

that were hard to juggle.                                                        

Whether and how you endure                                                 

with a spiritual and/or physical limp               

It's God's strength that makes the weaknesses and temptations exempt.                                                                       11/27/2003

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