A Divine Map (take 2)

a divine map (edit 1)

Maps show so many things
treasures and tales
of lost golden rings.
Some maps are dirty
and yellowed with age
Some are crisp
some printed on noble page.
Some are folded
Hidden in some corner
And some are rewarded
With County Recorders

Maps are like you-
maps are like me
born a blank page
empty and free.
but as time rattles on
all of us draw our own maps
with pencils of experience
we draw our own path.

Who else but God
could show us the way
When we have no idea where we are going
No idea what to say.
We are not born
with a draftsman's keen eye
How can we tell
the mountain from the sky
But if you look around on your map
there are a few hidden clues
To where you were born
and What you will chose.
One knows not
The roads she will take
Or the mountains she will climb
Or the fences of fate.

The map you are drawing
Is unique and intense
There are only a few rules to remember
To have it make sense.
Make sure there’s a scale bar
So it has some perspective.
An inch could be a mile
or maybe a lifetime retrospective.

But in the drawing of maps
the most important rule is such
that the North Arrow
Always faces up.
Like hands towards the sky
it acts as your guide
no matter the weather
or if your map leads you awry.

Maps show so many things
treasures and tales
of lost golden things.
don’t forget what you’re drawing
or what you’re looking for
Pick up that pencil
And keep drawing for more.

I never get lost with my GPS

I Never Get Lost With My GPS

Now, you see life is easy
When you have a GPS.
And the lady tells you directions;
Though you have no address.
You don’t even need a map!
Because the little box knows best
Heard it from a calculation
10 satellites don’t rest!
Never mind you getting lost
Or taking two slight rights
She’s programmed to give directions
Don’t question her programmed script
If you can’t find your ending location
Perhaps it doesn’t even exist!

-Inspired by the dumb **s truckers who were convinced Kings River Ranch was .8 miles from the Sawtooth Station.

Snake in the Grass

A slippery snake slithering through the grass
Slides silently under your eyes; it's past.
What evil lurks disguised in the color
of a green lovely grass; the ending of summer.
Winter will come and snake will retreat to his hole
And what he leaves behind; you may not know.
But later some day when the next spring has sprung
You go outside- to have a bit of fun.
and while frolicking in your expected paradise
the grass and the ground cave in to your demise-
And there you will sit with a broken leg
In the den of a family of dual hiss fangs.

So let these words of warning ring to you
Not every snake is honest or true.
Most hide themselves and speak with forked tongues;
then set their traps so you are undone.
The more power the snake has, the bigger its den
You had better watch out for that poison and sin.

Liberty Sound

Freedom carries a banner of the Red White and Blue-
riding a bay horse galloping through and through;
her golden hair streaming out and teeth shining towards the sun.
Hear the hooves thundering down; lightning is that liberty run.
And her, my how she sits! Tall and proud.
Three hundred years her words still sound
As the wind blows against the ground.
And her horse keeps a' going; the sweat flying in beads
Through the storm he carries her; his heart beats against her knees.
Have you seen her passing? Waving through your town?
There is nothing quite so powerful as hearing
That liberty sound.

Heart Disease

Does advancing technology provide cures for heart disease or is it a source of a sedentary lifestyle that contributes to heart disease? How can you have one without the other? 2 sides to the same coin.

I don't know

I don't know
how the world will end
or how it will go.
All I know is the ticking clock
a decent measure
of the soul
Tick tock tick tock
Count the night
watch it go
I don't know
I don't know
Where will it end
And how will it go?

Not one of the roses

they gave us their promise
and they likened us to roses
every one of us could be
so long as they chose us.

on our graduation day
we were as free as the wind.
they told us to be
everything they could send.
the world welcomed us
with wide open arms
like roses we blossomed
no one was harmed.

in college they taught us
so we'd all think the same.
the promise was test scores
that the best would remain.
and the worst was so ugly
as to not be a rose
of which the teachers
quickly disposed.
the thinking was different
too many questions were asked.
so the great promise that was given;
that promise didn't last.

and here I am;
Not a rose;
though I know many indeed.
Of many odd colors
None of which are free.
they gave us their promise
and they likened us to roses
The roses framed
expensive papers; themed posters.

But I, here I am!
with a far different plan
in a sea of perfumed noses.
away from their teachings
and expensive false preachings
I remain.
Not a rose, no siree
But a dense willow tree
Growing where no rose will grow.
Growing, always growing
With roots running deep
anchoring me in
Only then am I free.