Friday, November 18, 2016

Thanksgiving Hymn of Gratitude

Turkey Dinner is not Sweet.
Yet, sweetly meets as families greet.
Yes, sweetly greets with loving feats
Of peace around the Horn.

Speaking peace to Cherished friends?
Yes, Come In, friends. Love never ends!
So, Come In, Freinds. Let us begin
To carve the bird so Warm.
Thanks for help, seen and unseen.
Unseen or seen the blessing ring.
See, unseen blessings this Day brings
On the Thanks - giv - ing Charm.
Let there here be peace for us.
For us, we trust peace will not rust.
Will It for us rust? Nev - er Must
We lose our love so strong!

Monday, November 14, 2016

Jesus Christ A Poem

Prince of Peace, painted by Akiane, age 8. Image Courtesy of, (208)712-4491Source
O joyous reflections upon Thy name, I give my heart
To thee my God and my Savior. Thou art not far
When my soul is troubled and still. I feel the tender
Mercy upon my soul--forgiveness comes to me as a sinner.

Thy life Thou freely gave for the salvation of mankind.
In that bitter cup that caused even Thee, the greatest of all to pine
For relief. Yet, Thou didst not heed Thy body's anguish
Or the spiritual suffering inflicted upon Thee. I have no language

To describe my love for Thy sacrifice but Hallelujah!
I give Thee praise!. How Thou hast saved us
All from woe, I do not dare forget! I remember every week
I take the sacrament and to my soul the Spirit speaks,

"Thy sins forgiven by the mercy of the Son of God."
I weep for joy knowing with Christ I win. And odds
Being in my favor because the mercy of Christ prevails
In my life. His mercy, Christ's mercy will take me through the veil.

On that side, Christ mercy extends to all my loved ones
Long dead. I see my grandmother and daughter there. Some
Aunts and Uncles greet me too. All because Christ broke the bands
Of death and hell. All humanity before Him one day will stand.

Through Him, we live again. Through Him, we will have a chance
Whether we heard in this life or the next His gospel plan.
His mercy is sufficient even to redeem the heathen man
Let not man's philosophy marginalize the effects of Christ's plan!

Can I offer my testimony here my friend!
God lives, and He sent His Son to save us. And
It is important to know that so we can take advantage of
The plan. Pray about it to our God for the truth, and He will divulge it to you with love.

Friday, November 11, 2016


When my spirit was weak, and my heart did ache,
I turned to the Lord, and my pain did stay.
I wondered why when I know I gave my best
To honor God with praise and service with no rest.
In prayer, I asked and rightly so where comes all this woe?
Listening most earnestly, the still voice came to me. He said, “Your pains I know."
"It wasn't when the nails were placed inside my hands."
"If you do your Roman history that was done quite common then."
"Not even when they put the nails in my feet and slashed my side—
Those things for me were small in comparison to how I was tried."
"What made me know your woes and hurt which are not a few,"
"Were the sorrows, sins, pains, sicknesses that in Gethsemane for all humanity I suffered through."
"I understand wanting to quit and find another way."
"I asked Father in agony of sweating blood to pass the bitter cup that day."
"I was depressed, alone and forsaken--feelings I had just on my own!"
"On top of that I suffered for sins that were not mine--a pain until then I had not known."
"'Aba, Father,' I cried; 'remove this cup; nevertheless, thy will be done.'"
"No rest for me; Father knew this path for me, the Holy One."
"I tell you this now, not to harrow you up."
"I know your bitter woeful cup."
"You are my servant, and I don't expect from you my same suffering."
"But to be as I am as I promised, you must bear your personal Gethsemane."
"This too will pass my little son."
"Endure it well my little one.”
With those words in my heart and my eyes in tears,
I suffer still for what seems like many years.
I never understood understanding my Christ
Would bring so much sorrow into my Life.
Now I know when good times come to remember them as well as bad to be complete.
This knowledge will help me appreciate life right now, and know why heaven is a place so sweet.

Tuesday, November 8, 2016

Vigilante - Poem

You saw me on the news and you say I am to blame
Where is my truth?
You heard that he was Black and he died
I fired to defend myself now I must use another name!

I did not know that this would happen
When I am free of wrong in the law's eyes
I have a bounty on my head for my capture
You are not the law I hide emotionally snapping

When did my life become the value of a garment
In a furnace of words and tumult
My life is over where are my friends?
This social pressure, unlawfully so, I will not give up.

Vigilante, oh murderous hand, leave me be!
I have no accuser at my gate
I am so hated right now I hope it fades
Please Vigilante, do not follow Panthers words to come after ME!

Thanks for reading. Following the accusation of George Zimmerman of killing Trayvon Martin, the New Black Panther Party issued a reward for his arrest. This poem is dedicated to the illegality of that act, though many people may have agreed with arresting the accused.

Saturday, November 5, 2016

Malady of the Dying: Poetic Song

Quick! where's my hand? It is hard to understand.
It is hard to understand that I cannot feel my hand.
Oh, what's more, I cannot feel the floor!
I cannot feel the floor; that is what I'm shouting for
Not my hand or the floor well my feet ac-tual-ly
Not my feet, not my hand and I still don't understand
What a mystery to me that I have such misery
In the garden at the bottom of my ramp!

Wait it's too late! I did not just try to skate!
I did not just try to skate around the words you just spake!
What? I did not run; I only walked with the gun.
I only walked with the gun, and I feel like I'm undone
I did not skate what you spake I did not run with a gun!
I repeat in great debate I did not run. I did not skate
What perplexity I see in this world of calumny
In the garden at the bottom of my ramp!

In the garden at my Ramp, that is where my mind will camp
That is where my mind will camp as I wait there verklempt
Pain and a stain, that is what surrounds this spot
That is what surrounds the spot, a little dot on my heart
The dot on my heart as I lay here verklempt
Verklempt that I am with the dot on my heart
A bullet pushed in me though I walked cautiously
To the Garden where I'm dying at the bottom of my ramp

Now my head and my legs, I cannot feel them I dread
I cannot feel them I dread. I know that now I'm dead.
My wife, she is screaming! She will talk no more to me.
She's not talking more to me just hugging my limp body.
She's not talking more to me, just hugging and crying
Just hugging and crying--a big hole in me I see!
I hope this is a dream! I'm not fond of mysteries.
In the garden lay my corpse as I float up from the bottom of my ramp

Wednesday, November 2, 2016

Poetic Limericks Dedicated to the Trayvon Martin and George Zimmerman

Limerick style of poetry is five lines, two shorter, the third and fourth lines usually and three long, the first, second and last lines.  Here is a sample:
Limericks are not meant to be nice or beautiful but gaudy and irreverent.
  1. So don't read limericks if you are easily offended
  2. Because you will find you're always winded
  3. They may not swear or curse
  4. Well, maybe the very worst
  5. I assure you it is all very intended.
Limericks are usually obscene, though I have no intention of following that tradition here.  Following you will find my artistic interpretation of Trayvon Martin and George Zimmerman's encounter in set in limerick. 
Mother says
Retched away of Life is My Son.
I Christened him with love Trayvon
Remember him forever my precious love
In peace, I will see you again above
Throw the book at the killer with the gun!

Zimmerman Woe
This little pig went to the Market
This little pig had candy in his pocket
But the wolf had some fun
When he pulled out his gun
I bet now he wish he'd just had dropped it.

This man was not crazy just dedicated
He watched the streets to make them pleasant
Action hero wanna be followed a boy
It was too late to stop when the boy was no toy
Causing a death all he wants is peace but America will not let him.

I strolled down the street in my hoodie
I am cool and gangsta on the phone with my girl like I should be
I ran from this man to get away
I kicked in his face a bullet entered the fray
Dead and stunned now I look down at my Body

This wouldn't have happened if I were in school.
I was suspended though because I was trying to be cool
I wasn't even causing any trouble this time
But what a world, karma is a heck of a swine
I am here in a cloud with a harp sitting on a stool.

Monday, October 31, 2016

Black People Are On Welfare

We blacks, we are children of God who has sent us here. I love my brown skin God gave to me as a blessing.
A White person may not understand the psychological scars of generations of being told you are inferior—less than
Or why so many Black men are angry forgiveness escapes them because so many look down their noses,
Berate and classify all blacks, even in humor. With our n****r foot and our n****r toes!
Us Blacks joke along with others calling each other Niggas instead of the other word thinking "Does the other word have resemblance? NO!
Are we stupid and lazy? Are we loud and boisterous? Some in all races can be labeled as so.
Some of my ancestors were Black and I look more like those Black Ancestors.
Some were slaves and some became free men calling each other brothers and sisters.
Then some were disenfranchised generation after generation not able to call the police when things went wrong.
The Police were the bad guys! O, have you heard? Looks like I’m singing that same sad song?
Because my skin is brown, I have been compared to excrement.
With that epitaph, no wonder women grabbed purses everywhere I went.
People fear me because I am dark and male and large and tall.
Oh, I hear people say "I get the same thing and am not black at all!"
The scar still remains from my third-grade teacher telling me Blacks and Whites don't go together.
In elementary school, I rode the bus and was called a N****r daily by older and bigger White boys, me, a feather
Daring me to say something their words did hurt.
It makes me sad to mention, but I even felt it in the church.
February reminds to love my heritage and focus on the good for which many races fought.
Never will I forget that Blacks are something other than the decedents of slaves or someone's kick for laughs or dirty snot.
Tell me this then. If your tattoo makes you colored, when did I get mine? Oh, at birth. Your “colored” was a choice.
I am Black, my ancestors were slaves too. What happened to you does not take away why I still have a voice.
My people were slaves less than 17 decades ago, yours several thousand years, and your people still remain.
My people have no identity other than Black, slave, we claim Africa as our motherland, but we are not the same.
My ancestors are European, Native American--Cherokee and Seminole-- and African.
I don’t know the rest and cannot claim my other heritage separately, so I am Black American
Am I bitter at my plight? I’ll be honest. Sometimes I am.
All the bans and sour looks against me. Yeah, angry sometimes I am.
I know this, though. God sent me here in this brown body because He knew!
He knew that I could handle this test and turmoil I have to go through.
He knew I would love myself and love my race and my skin
He knew that I could rise above and find Christ in the end.
And when all is said and done and I go home to the gift for me that Christ has won;
He will say, you have passed the test, with my help, you have given in to hatred none.
Despite your feelings. You have walked in My shoes and suffered as a hiss;
Come to Me My son and walk in My gift of eternal life, a life of heavenly bliss.
I gladly will receive that handout from God Himself
I gladly partake the gift he offers all, eternal Welfare!
© 2013 Rodric Johnson