Beyond the Grave
by Ted L Glines
There be those
who raise the dead
to fight dread wars
beyond your ken
necromancer
Blood
if blood there be
runs cold
you forge ahead
five skeletons with axes
four magi skeletons throwing magick
and one golem plodding killing
golem raised from the very earth
which abhors evil
commando-mancer
Mortal men
born to die
live in haste
sometimes strong
and those we choose
skeletons with axes
soldiers
Mortal men
born to die
live in haste
sometimes knightly strong
and those we choose
a mage who throws magick
leaders
Raised from the very earth
golem made of clay
plodding forward
always forward
smiting evil
care-givers
There be those
who ask but do not give
demand but offer nothing
and Jesus does not love them
and they have no place
in our army
Hell be full
with those whose faith
was a demand
Meet the Recruiter
when you have died
and know your worth.
The Romans had a vision of Jesus
the way they wanted to see Him.
The Romans wanted to
see Jesus all bloody and torn,
hung up on that cross
for birds to eat
awful thorns digging into His forehead
and nails through His feet and hands
and spear slashes in His side.
That was the Roman vision of Jesus.
That's what they wanted to see.
We are not Roman.
My Jesus is at home with His Father
and All is well.
Please review Matthew 25:36-46
It's your job assignment
which you have avoided
thinking songs and praise
would take the place
of rolling up your sleeves
and doing His work
In His life on earth, here in Gaia, Jesus walked among Jews and Pagans. He walked among lepers and thieves and killers, and He extended His Father's love to them all. Jesus healed the sick, clothed the naked, visited the old people and the prisoners, and the children flocked to Him. Jesus is Love and Compassion, and He is our Mentor in all things. It is high time we released Him from that Roman torture cross, from the thorns and nails and spears which tore His mortal body. It is time we stopped thinking like Romans. It is time for us to leave the Darkness behind and walk the path of our Lord.
Throne Song
by Ted L Glines
In our life of smiles and tears,
Though we struggle through the years,
And sometimes feeling lost and all alone,
There's a place that we can go
And someone dear who loves us so
When we take those troubles to His golden throne.
(chorus)
Raise our voices - praise the day
Lift up the song we sing today,
Our hearts are open wide
To baby Jesus,
Inviting our sweet Lord to come inside.
When a friend is hurt and sad
We want to help them oh so bad
And all we know to do is cry and moan,
There's a place that we can go
And someone dear who loves us so
When we take those troubles to His golden throne.
(chorus)
Raise our voices - praise the day
Lift up the song we sing today,
Our hearts are open wide
To baby Jesus,
Inviting our sweet Lord to come inside.
When politics and presidents
Seem so bad and devil sent,
No aid for us on either fax or phone,
There's a place that we can go
And someone dear who loves us so
When we take those troubles to His golden throne.
(chorus)
Raise our voices - praise the day
Lift up the song we sing today,
Our hearts are open wide
To baby Jesus,
Inviting our sweet Lord to come inside.
May our soldiers overseas
Join us praying on our knees,
The glory of our Lord is fully known,
There's a place that we can go
And someone dear who loves us so
When we take those troubles to His golden throne.
(chorus)
Raise our voices - praise the day
Lift up the song we sing today,
Our hearts are open wide
To baby Jesus,
Inviting our sweet Lord to come inside.
We can sing and we can pray
With splendid gifts on Christmas Day,
But there's a sign we see when we have fully grown,
There's a place we always go
And someone dear who loves us so
When we take those glories to His golden throne.
(chorus)
Raise our voices - praise the day
Lift up the song we sing today,
Our hearts are open wide
To baby Jesus,
Inviting our sweet Lord to come inside.
Saint Mary Magdelene
Patron of the Knights Templar
She walks with Her Father now
with Jesus by Her side in Heaven
as He was in His mortal life.
Weatherman
by Ted L Glines
The rain it blows and the sun don’t shine
I’m doing good and I’m feeling fine
no matter what my portion today
there’s not one thing can get in my way
looking at problems like an inspector
seeking solutions like a director
avoiding all the quicksands of life
staying clear of trouble and strife
trying to be a lighthouse tall
warning others lest they fall
no matter why – no matter what
you can count on me to save your butt
well all right – my act’s together man
for this storm – I’m the weatherman
and when MY ass is against the wall
there’s only one name I’d care to call
the one Person who cleans all clocks
in the worst of weather – Jesus rocks!
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God Said "No"
by Ted L Glines
Suspended in space looking down at myself shooting at the police officer, and he was shooting back at me, I wondered at the perfect silence. There were no sound of shots, just the flare of gunfire, quiet like the stillness in my mind.
Less than an hour earlier, my red and white Plymouth Belevedere had swooped down from the forests of Skyline Drive, down into the city streets of Santa Cruz. The "Jesse James of the New West" was striking again. Out here in the outskirts of the city, the streets were fairly quiet even though it was well before midnight. Traffic lights were giving me the green, which I took to be a good omen. In less than fifteen minutes, I had located my target, a corner liquor store on an otherwise quiet street, with no cars in the parking lot. As I pulled in to the alley behind the store, everything in me came alert, like I was one big finger on a trigger. I became a pure predator and the night belonged to me. I stopped the car close to the corner of the building, back in the dark, between the rear of the liquor store and a tall wooden fence. On the other side of the fence would be residential houses. No problems from that direction. The only problem, as I was to learn, was that I had left my tail-lights on.
Inside the liquor store was an old man behind the counter who did as he was told, giving me the register-money and then laying down on the floor. The actual robbery went off without a hitch and I knew that another few minutes would see me back up on Skyline Drive headed for home.
Exiting the liquor store with my black pistol held against the black of my shirt, I saw a police officer walking toward me from the far end of the building, the end closest to the side-street. I turned away from him toward the other end and held myself to a regular walking pace like nothing was amiss. I knew all hell was going to break loose as soon as the officer entered the liquor store. After I turned the corner, heading back to my car, would be plenty of time to run. There was the crackling voice of his hand-held radio and I had the sinking feeling that this communication was about me. As I turned the corner, I heard the officer yell "Stop!"
Believe me, after I turned the corner of the building, I scooted. I always prided myself at being a fast runner. Well, the police officers in Santa Cruz are pretty quick, too! By the time I reached the passenger side of my car, the officer was at the other end of the alley and was dashing toward me, yelling for me to stop and get my hands up in the air. I yanked open the car door and stayed behind it, using the door as a shield. The officer took position at the rear of his own vehicle with his gun pointed at me. Both time and mental processes seemed slow and became odd, somehow stretched. In my mind, he was simply a "stop sign" in my path and I had to blow it away. My car-door window was down. I raised one hand above my head, bringing my right hand and gun down to rest on the window opening, yelling "I give up!" Behind the headlights of the police vehicle, I could see the lump that was the officer. I couched slowly, aimed and fired, and that’s when everything got strange.
Suspended in space looking down at myself shooting at the police officer, and he was shooting back at me, I wondered at the perfect silence. There were no sound of shots, just the flare of gunfire, quiet like the stillness in my mind. I remember wondering why I could not feel myself being killed. Perhaps this was the way of death, and the scene seemed to take a long, long time.
The arrest scenario is only blurred memory. I remember being on the ground, someone standing on my shoulders, being handcuffed, and being shoved into the back of the officer’s police car. The only thing I remember about being booked into the jail was the finger-printing and the pop-glare of being photographed.
Officers on the scene measured the distance between where the officer had been crouched behind his vehicle, and where I had been standing – eighteen feet, give or take a few inches. He had been firing a .357 Police Special, and my gun was a .45 semi-automatic. Both myself and the officer had been range qualified with these weapons. Still, bullet marks were found in my car and his, and there were bullet marks in the wooden fence behind where we each had been positioned. Not one bullet had touched either one of us.
In county jails, people don’t sleep. There is noise all through the night. Corridor lights glare and security gates crash against your knee-jerk nerves. Officer Hemple came to see me briefly before he got off shift, to share a cigarette and also share his amazement. We each knew, by any logic of man, that we both should be dead, or at least badly injured. Those were real and deadly bullets, and they were aimed. Officer Hemple had found new value in being able to go home to his wife and two children, and I had discovered a new value in simply being alive.
There in the noisy jail night, we both knew that God had reached down to save us, disregarding our intent, simply saying "No!" There simply was not any other answer.
Pagan Freedom
by Ted L Glines
When pagans meet together
to party or to chat,
there's a freedom to BE;
it's as simple as that.
Uptightness in our lives
is a crying shame and pity,
never looking at each other
on the sidewalks of our city.
In a complex, you can live
for many many years
and never know your neighbors,
not their loves nor their fears.
How can you say
"I am good - he is bad"
if you never ever know him
your complaint is only sad.
We all live in boxes,
being that or being this,
in a cage of expectations,
never knowing what we miss.
But when pagans get together,
it's like the walls tumble down;
not putting labels on each other,
whether black or white or brown.
They laugh and drum together,
and sometimes work a spell,
and their freedom is contagious;
wishing everybody well.
May the people of the world
learn that love and cheer are free.
May they all come together
and forever blessed be.
Author's Notes: And silently he said "So mote it be." For many years, I have known many pagans and called them friends, and I have always been impressed by the lack of bigotry I've found among them. Frankly, I believe that God appreciates that. Somehow, in this more and more crowded world (6.4 billion of us, now), we need to put away the bigotry and learn to live together in the harmony which Jesus intended. I expect there will be those who will frown at the message in this poem. Sometimes it takes a forehead shot with a baseball bat to get someone's attention. Das ist sehr gut!