creatures of the house

Them little nail givers

Pulling at the carpet as they walk by

Cotton robbers

Pulling open my drawers

And stealing the softness inside

Starring at me with my lids shut

Wondering when they will open again

Crying out to me

As the door opens to their cave

Ruminace of food substance is depleted

The sirens call for replenishment

I satisfy their need

Oh Furry creatures of the house

Napa

Bright green painting of life

covering the hills around us

Saturated with grape plants

and mustard seeds

I have to reach out to see if it really is alive

looks like a backdrop for a movie

it is the handy work of nature

growing to what the Artist sees right

Stroking the clouds in the sky

tasting the fine drip of the wine

and opening our eyes to a beauty unknown

to an unbelieving eye

Parts

Raven sits

Upon the evil chest

of man once thought to never rest

Eyes pecked out

lips swollen with clout

He will be left, in bits, in bits

Fool we all are

The woebegone feeling scarred my lip

with markings of a fool

I'm desperate to see a carving of emotion

Like a figurine glowing in the candlelight

but the scowl of the owl pricks my eyes

to awaken me to the darkness of my mind

with eyes peering into the thoughts

blinking like a cartoon

robbing the essence of originality

and I am played again

as a fool

with nothing left to ponder

and a blank mind of worry

Imagine

I stare at the popcorn ceiling

drawing figures in my head

of a whole new world

It casts people of iron

and horses of courage

and lances faced east and west

King raises his hand

Drops the hanky

that starts the trot

of the beast

and mean who fight

with long tree trunk like objects in hand

They charge harder and cause commotion

and people picture the end

but I draw a collision in my head

both Iron men fall to the ground

and end up dead

As I stare at the ceiling

I draw more worlds in my head.

Break down the wall

I am riding the river of Life

Hitting each stone unturned

Scarred by the sand and sticks I hit

None too hard to hold me from the flow

As I travel through the cracks

Down the small falls of the unknown

and into a pond of stag-net water

I see the the stucture holding me back

I try to knock it down

Break down the walls of the dam

Lord

Let the water flow

I am tired of sitting here

in the Scum and Algae of the world

Break down the wall and let me flow

I am here for the rapids

no matter what cuts I may receive

I may be broken by the rocks

I will mend in the sea

Break down the walls of the world

Lord

Let the river flow

I am tired of sitting here today

Amongst broken and sore

Break down the wall and let me flow

Break down the walls and let us flow

Scarred Heart

A man with a heart

scarred by the knives of the world

each wound moles over

and mounds on the flesh

stapled shut to heal

permanently marked

Velvet Elvis

A work in progress . . .

Bell goes through concepts of "What if" that cause a stir in the community of Christianity. To the point that we need to examine how we see Jesus and the word of God. He points out the fact that religion is just that, something written in scripts and fables for us to follow. Which religion was created by man. Jesus himself said that religion is not all you need. You need me as well. (Need scripture for proof). Bell goes through the ideas of what if Jesus had a physical father on this planet. Would this skew our idea of who Jesus is? How would we see him different? Even though he fulfilled all the prophecies except the immaculate conception based on this concept of what if. we built religion around Jesus. When we should have based it on him. He made a clear path for us to follow and answered everything in life for us. However, what if he did have a father on this earth? Would your Faith be skewed? How would you view the world differently? How would you follow the bible different?

We just have to get off the concept of religion and get on the concept of it as a faith in following him. Most churches now see this concept and have changed from being legalistic to relational.

Bell also gets into concepts of how to study the bible and how we should cherish it. He brings in the history of Rabbi's how they cherish the word and study it dearly to gain concepts of how the word can be interpreted in different ways.

"The rabbis spoke if the text being like a gem with seventy faces, and each time you turn the the gem, the light refracts differently, giving you a reflection you haven't seen before." (Bell 90)

If a new rabbi had a new perception of scripture it would have to pass through tests by the elders in order for it to be approved for teaching. However, it brings us the bona fide idea that the bible is there for interpretation on how we should live our lives. It can mean different things to different people. On the other hand, once the person perceives it in a certain way he should get it checked out by fellow Christ followers, preferably by elders.

He makes you realize you need to think outside the box. How many times have you heard that before? People have a hard time looking at things in a different manor and different perspective. It builds the mind to realize things can be different and look different for other people. The idea of even writing this can come across to one person as elementary but the other as being a fine piece of work. Bell expresses we must lok at the bible in all different directions so we can get the most out of it.

Writing

Simplicity is an art form once defined

With a pen and paper

It came straight from the mind

It drew out letters

and words came around

and everyone understood it

what it meant was profound

It described objects and feelings

once it came out it made a wonderful sound

I foresee it

Indention on a well worn couch

46 inch tv mounted on the wall

webs covering it from lack of use

stacks of old ads and mail scattered

DVD player still flashing 12:00

remotes are dead from sitting

dust covering everything

even the footprints indented in the floor

dishes piled in the sink

high enough to overflow on the counters

cobwebs sit in every crease and corner of the ceiling

as the stench fills the hallway

door to every bed room open

Smell makes my stomach curl

as we approach the main room

arm hangs off the bed

slightly deteriorated

fingers gangling

from a lonely old man

other arm

reaching to the emptiness

on the other side of the bed

with a frown craved into his face

and lines on his face

drawn from the tear drops

salt from his eye to the sheets.

Crazy World

My skin curls

As the sweet venom flows

Through my limbs

Creating an artificial endorphine

Stimulating a rush of freedom

tingling the hair on my arms and head

Blood raging through my veins

Liberating the body

Raising it to a new level of peaceful chaos

The Mind develops a whole new world

Words float with expression

Accenting their true colors

Ceiling spins behind them

Like a optical allusion capturing everyones attention

Grin of solitude captured on my face

And signs of release

Living the moment

And dreaming forever