Category: Uncategorized

A Definition of Purpose

Is it desire? Is desire what makes purpose?
Is it knowledge? Does the ability to know, make it?
Is it love, joy, peace, flourishing, health, wealth, friendship?
Is it to see and know God?
Is it to obtain eternal life in a world where suffering does not exist?
Is it a wife, kids, husband, and filial honor?
Is it survival?
Is it pleasure?
Is it faith?
Is it reason?

How Calculus Works

An eas[y] way [to calculate pi is] to use a Sine Function. I saw a person use them and got several digits quickly.  {,,,}[P]i is just a number that tells us a thing is a perfect circle. As everything, from area to circumference--even different pieces of it--ratio to pi if something's a circle. That's also how Sine functions intuit rates of change in calculus, is by telling you the difference off of pi a thing is from the slope on the curve. Which basically gets calculated from the curve of the parameter, but also works in Areas too. Which is neat, because when you have a piece of pie, it's actually equal to pi, but there's straight lines on the parameter, and actually the number pi is [completed] from the parameter of the circle. [Just like it would be in calculus, when you factor in a rate of change, and a slope, the area beneath it is shaped through the curve; and that area is useful in attaining real, physical measurements, such as distance in acceleration versus speed. And of course, one takes different sums of the series, and completes it through intuiting the logic by a formula.]

The Atheist and the Church Choir

I listened to the note, so holy and pure
And then I had the intrusive knowledge
Of what an Atheist feels when they hear it.
Deafly does the music rise, and all is empty.
Then, I felt my own feeling, so full and pure.
I realized why religion is good, and why more
Is needed. For if deafly do our prayers go up
The soul of man is burdened with nothing.
No hope, not in life, nor hereafter.
The emptiness I felt, was truly empty.
And feeling the melody with faith, it was truly full.

On Familiar Spirits

[A[ familiar spirit [is when you commune with the dead], and there is something wrong with that. But, sometimes it comes from faith, when it's an angel. But, you're not to communicate with the dead. That's a big no no. It's a form of idolatry. Most likely, because if the person is not in hell, you're communicating with an angel, and they can do nothing for you, save God will it. So, it's not something you should do. Though, angels do speak to the living---they call that a conscience. But that's holy guidance, and should be superseded by the Spirit. But so do demons; those are called intrusive thoughts or temptations. As Elijah had to be still, and hear the still small voice.

The Children of God

The children of God they say, are who inhabit the kingdom.
Remember the joys you had as a child, how life could be spent
Eternally, with that luster and beautiful affect?
You do a thing, and all celebrate it, no matter how austere.
You play, and live, and have joy at all time.
Do not commit infanticide, by telling your children
To grow old, and matured by the world's echoes.
For that is the beginning of hell, is growing
And losing youth's lusty sheen, and hope.
For as a child, every activity is grand, and sincere.
As a youth, your love is felt deep, and believed to be eternal.
Never lose that hope, or you'll be damned.
Never lose that childlike innocence,
For when rolled up in a ball, it will be an old man
Jaded, and spiteful... not a little child blessed
And though he throw the ball like a weak little child
God raises him up, and swings dawdles him on his knees
And celebrates. For Heaven we will all be children;
Like this, with youthful enthusiasm for all in the Kingdom.
Every youthful lust will be pure, every joy fully experienced,
Every activity fully new, and enthusiasm shall burn.
For, a man could live for eternity with a child's lust for life.
To experience all things new, and be wholly given to the moment
And not care about work, or the future, or the past.
Only the moment, with every moment fulfilling its full potential.

Nero Abaddon

Nero, with your Pegasus,
You birth the Grecian and Persian Kings.
Persia says, "We are from thee,"
And Grecia says, "We shall wed."
Pharaoh makes peace with the Hittites
But the Habiru people migrate
From Egypt into Canaan,
And stir the entire world into war.
Grecia and Persia war to this day
The Phoenicians are the Grecians
And the Egyptians are the Persians.
And little Zion  makes her bold stand
Caught in the middle of their grand wars.

Human Seasons 2024: Echoes of Keats

Springtime comes in the youthful yen
Where every woman merrily bends
To the beautiful youth, with fantasies
Of love and loves, and nude.

Then summer is here, with thoughts of money
And status, and ink and pen is not so important.
The children cry, and are burdensome
Or they bring joy to the enlightened.

Then at autumn, the expenses of children's
Fortunes weigh heavily on the mind: had they raised
Or been raised, or are they bound by youthful lusts
Still in adulthood? Did fortune bestow its graces upon them?

Then at winter, one is utterly forsook by them
And foul, and old and poor, or old and rich
It does not matter, naked entered into the world
Dust shall be its end, and life was errant.

Spring, the progeny yen to seed their young
Summer, the progeny raise their young
Autumn, the progeny reap in the fortunes
Winter, children forget the kindness of their fathers.

We live in a bitter world;---
That is my addendum to Keats' masterpiece.

To Keats

A cup of milk in airy foam and Cappuccino sweet
With cherry cinnamon and maple syrup and vanilla stick.
I would sit across from you at table and lap up the froth
Sweet nectar of the Aromatic Excelsa and say to you my piece.
I would say, "Good poet, to do is what you speak
"And to say it well I see. No airy metaphor graces lips
"Except to experience the thing as it is."
I would sit back, and eagerly wait upon you
Who talks of beer and Gypsy maids, to address my apology
Of what makes your verse so beautiful.
For my head is in the deep clouds, but yours on the pier
To sit nigh the moonshined beaches, and lap a pint of cheer.
No grand thing, no intelligent design does come from your pen.
But, rather, beautiful and layered verse of life;
A life I cannot live, but would be merry to.

The Last Christian

"I am the last Christian on Earth.
"All have turned aside, and forgat.
"Life grew soft, and pleasant
"So that the Earth was paradise.
"Gross and lewd things became proper.
"Men learned how to play with death.
"The Magicians and Warlocks grew
"And Demons were the Science.
"I am the last Christian on Earth
"And I was the first Christian on Earth.
"I saw the World rejoicing
"With its squalor, bathing in lust.
"I realized, I truly did, in that moment,
"The faith was honest, sincere,
"And real. So I had peace like Noah
"Knowing the world needed Him;
"Though no rain would fall;
"Faith disappeared, and the reason why
"Was no one got what they truly wanted
"So they abandoned belief to pursue their lucre.
"To do evil, and therefore gain pleasure
"For doing good gave them none.
"And that is what the world was about.
"Pleasure."