LORD, Helper of Your People

LORD, Helper of Your people.

The heathen are in derision.

The wicked one belches up

And so let the ones who trouble your people

See this as a curse:

Those who fight against Israel shall be like her

With her vomit.

The Prophet had warned.

She’d have been better off in prison.

Yet the trap was set for her

To, to destroy her.

LORD, Your people are now at rest.

Your brooks are in the valley of Kidron.

Your people laugh, and your people play

As violence ends in the streets of Israel,

Let Israel now say:

Let those who trouble us end up like her.

Selah.

The Poem is inspired by Micah 7.

Especially these verses:

¹⁰Then she that is mine enemy shall see it, and shame shall cover her which said unto me, Where is the Lord thy God? mine eyes shall behold her: now shall she be trodden down as the mire of the streets.

A woman harassed the prophet Elijah in this prophecy, and she said to the prophet, “Where is the LORD thy God?” His eyes would behold her. That is, he would see her in person. And she would be trodden down in the streets because she transgressed against the prophet.

¹¹In the day that thy walls are to be built, in that day shall the decree be far removed.

In the day that this happens, Jerusalem’s walls will be built, and the “Decree shall be far removed.” That is the decree to destroy and lay waist Israel; the decree to destroy and plunder all of her work and labor; the decree to put her in prison.

¹²In that day also he shall come even to thee from Assyria, and from the fortified cities, and from the fortress even to the river, and from sea to sea, and from mountain to mountain.

And so one shall come from Assyria, the nation at war with Israel, from his fortified cities, and from the fortress even to the “River” and from “Sea to sea” and from “Mountain to mountain.” That is, he shall visit the LORD’s people, one by one.

¹³Notwithstanding the land shall be desolate because of them that dwell therein, for the fruit of their doings.

This is a curse. Because the people are wicked, the land will be a desolation.

¹⁴Feed thy people with thy rod, the flock of thine heritage, which dwell solitarily in the wood, in the midst of Carmel: let them feed in Bashan and Gilead, as in the days of old.

There will raise up a shepherd who will feed the people with the rod. That is, he will discipline the people. They will feed in Carmel and Bashan. I think the people who dwell solitarily in the wood will come out of hiding—the Israelites who were being persecuted by Assyria, and they will again feed on the fatness of the land.

¹⁵According to the days of thy coming out of the land of Egypt will I shew unto him marvellous things.

The prophet Elijah will be shown marvellous things. For forty years, he will be shown marvellous things.

¹⁶The nations shall see and be confounded at all their might: they shall lay their hand upon their mouth, their ears shall be deaf.

The nations will see this and be confounded at all their strength. The miracles performed by Elijah will leave them with no choice but to believe in God and shut their ears and mouths and be deaf and blind. The reason is because the report of Israel’s victory will reach them, and it will be so shocking that it will deaf them.

¹⁷They shall lick the dust like a serpent, they shall move out of their holes like worms of the earth: they shall be afraid of the Lord our God, and shall fear because of thee.

The wicked will lick the dust like a serpent and move out of their holes like worms of the Earth. They will be afraid of God, and shall fear because of Elijah the prophet.

¹⁸Who is a God like unto thee, that pardoneth iniquity, and passeth by the transgression of the remnant of his heritage? he retaineth not his anger for ever, because he delighteth in mercy.

The LORD does not have anger forever, or else the people of Israel would fall away from Him, and stop worshiping Him. Rather, He brings Israel—all of us—justice and peace, and wins our victories for us. That is what the above poem is about, is about Medea being destroyed by her wickedness. She “Belches” forth her vomit, which are her words. Her own words destroy her because she gains success in all that she does, she profits off of lies, only to meet her fate, which is to be trodden down in the streets like mire. What’s important to understand about this, is that people can only profit off of lies for so long. The lies are like vomit. Because when someone tries to fight against the LORD’s people, they will vomit up all of their wickedness and lies, and be destroyed. There will be no sparring them. They will be at rest, and in prosperity. The LORD is good, and Jesus Christ is the LORD come in the Flesh.

¹⁹He will turn again, he will have compassion upon us; he will subdue our iniquities; and thou wilt cast all their sins into the depths of the sea.

The LORD will turn toward us again and have compassion on us. He will “Subdue our iniquities” and will cast all our sins into the depths of the sea. That is, He will literally throw our sins into the depths of the sea. How this happens, I don’t know, but it’s a huge influence on Fairyland. I imagine Fairyland being where the sins are cast. Leviathan’s belly, where somehow our sins go, and get swallowed up by him. That is the influence in my poetry, anyway.

²⁰Thou wilt perform the truth to Jacob, and the mercy to Abraham, which thou hast sworn unto our fathers from the days of old.

The LORD will perform the truth to his people, and mercy to the gentiles who are his people. He has sworn to save us, and will, and will lead His people Israel by a shepherd, Israel, so they know how to turn and do what is right. Because they hadn’t been doing what was right. That was why Assyria came up against them.

My Brother Red Clay

Red Clay, you are not Jerusalem.

You are Ephraim.

Jerusalem is a false prophet.

You are a true prophet.

The peoples hate you

Though you speak the truth in your heart.

Now, depart from sin,

Or shall I, like Israel

Teach you to abandon your idols?

Yet, Jerusalem, I hope you are saved

Oh false shepherd.

With the withered arm

And broken eye.

I saw you in your mischief.

An Explanation of a Device in LORD Help Me

So, I shifted to first person like the Psalmist David would.

He was not Christ, but spoke in Christ’s voice.

So did Isaiah and other prophets.

I do believe there are a lot of things I foresaw that have arrived.

So, I reserve my right to do this, too.

Because it’s getting ugly right now

And the people’s shouldn’t be warring.

They should be, for all intents and purposes

Satisfied and filled with good.

Instead they are not

Because people have not kept just balances

And weights.

They have not given with righteousness.

LORD Help Me!

LORD! Help your servant Israel!

He has fallen in vanity

And in his shame!

He cannot get up without Your help!

LORD abide by him, through all troubles

And help his soul find pasture by the still waters.

LORD, bring him no shame

But bring him the cup of salvation

And let the springs of mercy well up in his soul.

LORD, how long shall they kill the prophets?

How long shall they make a name for themselves

In vanity?

LORD, I had sinned, but not unto death.

I do not deserve this punishment

Yet they lay it upon my head

All of the sins of the Heathen

Which I had not saved

Nor given commandment to save.

LORD, how long shall they speak in vanity?

Had I not performed my vows unto the congregations of the good?

Had I not gone down into the grave

And rose, and yet what is this nation unto me?

It is a nation of chaff who drew close with its lips

But as for service, it had not given me even the slightest drink

Of sweetness.

It, as its greatest work, had sounded a trumpet

Before me, with pomp and splendor,

Only to not find me.

He had only searched, LORD

Because I had searched.

Yes, he had suggested it

But had I not gone with him

He would have been like a duck

Wandering around a lake

Not knowing to which its bread came.

No, LORD, for I came

And found You.

There You were, with Your little bag

Which the Prophet had provided you with

And your good foods.

Yet, with great splendor this nation

Haughtily presented You with delicacies.

You took a little, but only enough.

The prophet saw with your little bag

The provisions he had spent.

LORD! Where has this nation gone?

They do a work, but do so with pomp and splendor

To sound the trumpets and declare, “I have done this good!

“Look upon me, as I walk with my chalice in my hand

“And my splendid array of delicacies!”

Had he not just given the man a shekel?

Would it not be a greater sacrifice?

So if he buys a little wine for his stomach?

What is it to you, oh foolish nation?

Oh Jerusalem, Why Have You Transgressed?

Jerusalem, oh Jerusalem,

Your moment of pride has come.

To the breadth you betrayed your prophets

And called them mad and liars and a fool.

You have allied with Media,

Oh Jerusalem…

I had loved you.

I had spoken good of you.

Yet I did see you of the world

As a giant. I saw you call me a “god.”

O! Mad Prophet! I am not a god!

I had wept for you.

I had prayed for you.

I had given you my benefit of the doubt.

Yet, you stood at the birth of the world

And lifted yourself with pride against your sister Sodom.

The prophet you scorned,

He had made his mistake.

He had humbly requested to go into captivity.

He had fought and shamed his own council

And therefore incurred war against himself

For the foolishness of putting himself in bonds

To appease his LORD’s wrath.

You, you had laid out the tongue against him

Every day, and had slandered him

Your own brother.

Andrew saw I was right.

So did Elisha.

Who are you? Thou art Jerusalem in Ezekiel.

I had taken my oath, and I had performed it

Unto the LORD, I was not late in paying my vows.

I had mourned, and wept, and given all my bread to the hungry

That I could afford.

What did Christ say?

He who has bread share it.

What did you say, “Work like a slave! It is only right.”

This is not the message to the prophet

O foolish man! I had loved you as my own brother!

For God’s servants had required rest.

And rest I did.

I had not taken a mark upon my palm or forehead.

This mark I have is not the mark of the beast

But the mark of a Christian…

To give what I have unto the poor

To love my neighbor

And to desire my God above even my own bread

Which I wept over in tears.

Had there been a single thing you said

That was right? So you can fortune tell.

Had you spoken what was true of an interpreter?

That is to have mercy? That is to have kindness?

That is to loosen the bonds of the captive?

So you had power to heal the blind with a word.

I had healed the blind without a word.

So you had strength to deliver over the spoil in battle

To yourself.

I had fought no battle,

And what battle I fought, it was a sin

Just like yours.

Violence is in your hands

O Jerusalem.

In my hands is chaff

For the nations consume my work

Because of your false prophecies.

Repent. But you will be like Jerusalem

Crying over your sister Sodom;

“She had done so too!”

You had forgotten her in your day of pride

O Jerusalem.

I, I had humbled myself and realized my confession was vanity.

That is why I did not resist nor trust in Farrow’s Chariot.

Instead, I had rejected his counsel

And did not resist the punishment.

I did not go forth into greater wrath,

But to appease my LORD I stayed where He had

Made a place for me

And there I had listened to the preachers.

It is not me who is guilty

For I had known my sins;

And when I confessed I realized

Had I resisted, I would be like a snake charmer

Who had no whistle

Or a man walking on coals

And standing there to let my feet burn.

I had loved you like a brother.

I had wept for you.

But I found you in the world

As if you belonged there.

Woe unto Jerusalem

Who scorns her prophets.

Indulgence

I wrote a poem

And realized I’d be a hypocrite.

I write in England’s style

But hate Soccer.

I don’t want soccer here.

When I go somewhere,

I like the best quality.

I suppose the Conch Fritters in Florida

Would be just as good in Pennsylvania

Should someone care to make them

With the appropriate recipes.

I suppose what I don’t like

Is when someone makes a Taco

Without using Cumin

Or Chili Powder.

I suppose mint doesn’t belong

In Tacos.

Though, some Mexican dishes

Might have mint—

I do say I probably had some

Where mint was good.

Because, the person understood

The point of quality.

This is my real issue with America

Adopting things like Soccer

Lacrosse, etc.

We have four sports

Already wildly popular in our country.

And, everyone knows at least seven teams

From each sport.

It’s like indulging in something

That’s already satisfied.

We don’t need Soccer.

Because Japan playing baseball seems as natural to me

Given the thought, as Venezuela

Or Babe Ruth playing baseball.

It is something that makes sense

And is culturally appropriate.

America does not need Rugby

Or Soccer, or Cricket,

Or Lacrosse, or any of the number of other bizarre sports

That we tend to try to hype up and culturally appropriate.

Like, Eminem should rap.

It’s not like that.

It’s more along the lines of this:

What you rap about is important.

If you’re rapping about being a terrible girlfriend

And you’re boasting about how evil you are…

It’s best not to rap about that.

Eminem did not boast in evil.

Rather, he just stated the fact nobody wanted to acknowledge.

The fact that suburban kids were pretty hardcore

And were turning into what were essentially sociopaths.

Soccer falls in line with this very simply:

We have four sports that people regularly watch.

That’s two or three more than the average country.

We don’t need to prove to the world that we’re better at soccer

Because it’s kind of sad.

Basketball,

Baseball,

Hockey,

Football (American).

India plays cricket.

It makes sense. They’re patient

They like thinking.

They have ties to Great Britain.

America would be pretty strange playing Cricket

When we have Baseball.

Though, London loves my Phillies

I have to say… But we don’t go colonize one of their stadiums

With a baseball field.

And if we did, it’d be more appropriate than a football field.

Which, the NFL wants to put football fields in Germany and Britain.

It’s strange… it’s annoying. It’s indulgent.

It’s hard for me to justify.

A person does not need every sport in their country.

They don’t need to know every card game possible.

They certainly don’t need to know how to play Contact Bridge and Pinochle

And on top of that fifty other trick taking games;

Unless they were a professional,

But then, that person knowing other games as well

Such as all of them…

It’s indulgent.

I write stories with morals.

I don’t write stories for entertainment.

Because that is my choice…

To write meaningless stories

In an age where all stories are meaningless

Is indulgent.

For me to go and write a story

For the purpose of simply making money

Is indulgent.

I have nineteen books on my bookshelf

All of them I’ve written

And spent ten years writing.

For me to turn around and write a modern novel

Like Clive Cussler is indulgent.

I don’t need to write like James Paterson.

Not because I can’t.

But because Baseball is an American sport.

And it’s also popular in Japan.

There are things which are timely for certain countries

And in an age dominated by Capitalism

It’s hard to preserve cultural traditions.

Which, is why I chose cultural traditions to write in.

Because they need preserved

Otherwise who knows what bloodsport might pop up.

Maybe people hitting each other with actual weapons

In an arena, and it ending up on History Channel.

Oh! That’s a real thing. Sorry.

My imagination wasn’t so sharp there.

A One Way Conversation With a Third Generation Wall

I wrote you a book

But here are the pithy details.

Your facts are correct.

And I figured you wouldn’t like what I said.

But, appealing to your better nature,

I heard you reply several times,

“Things are what they are, and it’s inevitable.”

So… you just accept things for how they are,

And say devil may care?

Ok…

Well, you need to know

That people who spend a lifetime

Doing something,

Don’t make a dime doing it today.

That should infuriate you.

And capitalism is,

In all basic necessities,

Nicholas Sparks.

And so is the modern Publishing process.

So, on one hand you snicker

About how you hate capitalism.

On the other hand,

You just blindly accept it.

Then you decide that your contribution makes no difference.

Again, I’m not arguing with you.

I’m probing you for useful information.

I saw in you

Something that was true,

But then you went down a different path

Not recommending the great works, because XYZ.

The books you read are not entertainment.

They are containers of ideas.

And you need to respect that,

If you’re ever going to be someone

Who has any contributions to make.

Because

Fiction is not always about entertainment.

Some of our most important ideas and discoveries

Came from it.

Also, some writers are not a team of editors.

In fact, most of us,

If not all of us,

Are not.

And just so you know,

I listened to every word you said twice.

I understand you,

The same way you understand capitalism.

It’s just as elitist to say what you’re saying,

That corruption is inevitable.

And telling me I “Mansplain”,

Whatever that means,

It’s stupid.

Isn’t Mansplaining just an ad hominem attack

On my gender?

To be honest,

I had first thought you were a man.

The only difference my post had

Knowing that you’re a woman

Was I said “Courtesy”

Instead of “Bow.”

Other than that, it’s the exact same.

So, telling me I mansplain,

I must mansplain to everyone.

And what I was doing was reasoning with you,

That perhaps you shouldn’t pander

To get audiences.

I hate that kind of crap.

I’m not a Savant; I’m not a Genius; I’m not Autistic; I’m not Crazy

What’s interesting to understand

About me, is that I’m not a savant.

I didn’t get hit in the head

Or have epilepsy,

And then get extraordinary skills.

I understand social skills.

I’m not a genius.

I’m not smarter than everyone else.

I’m not better at thinking.

I’m just practiced at a skill.

I’m not autistic.

I was diagnosed with ADHD

But I have since been cured of it.

I can laser focus on something.

I don’t have obsessions.

None really.

Unless you count working on being a writer.

Unless you count trying to earn a dime on my novels.

Which, in America we call it work ethic.

We don’t call it an obsession.

I’m not crazy.

I’m normally right about my assumptions

Though people try to hide it

From me.

To know my assumptions

It would drive the normal person insane.

But, I get called an

Idiosavant, Autistic Genius Lunatic.

For that, the LORD has said the Meek among men

Are the ones who take the crown.

Truth is I’m just an average schmuck

With a peculiar gift.

I have a God who cares about me.

Jobs Everyone can do, but Shouldn’t Be Jobs.

Oh… get paid to whore

Get paid to play

Get paid to do everything,

Every single day.

Minimum salaries

Loose their jobs

While these people live like slobs.

I’m a writer… all day all night

I research, I imagine, I craft what’s right.

But these people, they live in luxury.

Not to learn wisdom

But to do things easy.

To write this poem

Takes several years

Worth of experience

Worth of tears.

To live like these

To live a lie…

A hedonistic culture

Says I, says I.

@8:00 – The only Real Job in this whole video.

My Interpretation of Song of Solomon

Erin’s dells,

Heath of mine heart

The rolling thunders

From you I shan’t depart.

Gift from God

The Love of my life;

I have forgotten you

Oh heath of the dell where the rolling hills and valleys

Alighted upon my soul.

Sassafras’s aroma filled the shoals

Of affection’s love and righteous heat

Where our two hearts in lover’s embrace

Did alight and sweet melody meet.

I have seen the beauty of Tyrus

Even wonton in a dream…

Nude there for me to see

I saw that lovely maiden in a dream.

Yet, hardened of you

Wife of my youth

I did forget your beating breast

Which did get beat at every stroke

Of my heart filled desire

For the Queen of Sheba

Southern Queen…

Where are you now

O’ lovely maiden

Who came to me in a vision’s dream?

Are you gone? Shall we meet?

Shall the limpid destiny

Separate us, two turtle doves?

Nay, I cannot give you my greatest love poems

For the pomegranates of your wine

The spiced cedar of your breath

Under the heat of the day’s surmise…

Where are you,

Oh milk and honey?

The land of Erin’s Dells

Oh Israel,

Oh Jeshurun

Oh beating love…

Swarthy Shulamite

In the lattice I peer into you

Yet am gone,

For the night watchmen have shushed me away.

The king has asked for a concession from you

Oh gift from God

Erin’s dells

The Jorgia of my heart…

Sweet you are, taking many names

Yet the southern queen’s face

I love more.

Yet, it is you who had my heart at first

And it is you, oh loveliest among maidens

Who might have my heart for all days.

Oh Shulamite, have you said:

“Who are you?

“Beloved, where have you gone?

“I am undressed

“And myrrh drips from me

“In drops, I am anointed for love.

“Beloved,” Heath in the dells,

“I am sick of love.

“Come to me,

“For when I turn the door

“You are gone.

“In my languishing,

“I have sought like a sheep lost from the fold.

“I wander the street,

“Oh beloved, I wander the street

“And I am beaten, and stripped.

“I look for you.”

Oh, Solomon, a thousand talents are yours.

Take them, and leave me to my land

To till, to vine, to dress and drink.

Where are you, my beloved?

I wait for thee.