Walked into the doctrines of controversy There is a stiff challenge without heresy Down through God's good ages There are debates that readily rage
The dialog should be had with all humility Gracefully admitting a bit of grace and mercy It's universal and filled with shades of glory But it isn't our story, but God's story
Martin Luther found and fought his contradictions That reformed and rejected the Church's direction We evolve or don't in our failed understanding And realize our context has been demanding
Filters and perceptions require adjustment We need to allow grace to be our measurement We're under the law as long as we live But the world requires we learn to forgive
It is said that Christ died that we might bear fruit Despite the sins that lay at our rotted root It takes a pause of discernment to decide The best of our learning to keep in our stride
Our inner conscience brings us to understanding's door We need to lean in to learn all the more Legalisms can break our mortal hearts If we don't move on beyond our troubled start
We strain there at the bonds of law and liberation The twisted metaphor of marriage pulls the imagination To find that the widow's first husband was stern And unable to meet expectations, she did learn
To lean on the ways of humility and to be content with grace The death of the old ways became a doorway to embrace The past is severed so that a new path can be found to walk God's mystic breath is had so that the pastor can talk
Fertile faith replaces barren obedience, unreached It becomes fruit that blossoms with the love He preached The conflict of identity breaches from the old patterns Finding forgiveness in our escape from the death of sins
Stilted religion is replaced with our right relationship With the risen one with whom we commune and worship Like the widow renewed, we find ourselves in new emotion Giving up ritual and impossible laws replaced with devotion
(c) March 30, 2025 Michael Doyle All Rights Reserved
Bumping up against the edges Toes reaching out over the ledges The quest is given up for the ideal As we learn to settle for the real
The higher grounds are out of bounds As we seek to find further sounds That will allow us to play what we hear Past the boundaries of all we fear
Despite all the reading, we failed the test Finding ourselves no better than the rest The chaos and contradiction make become sense Now that we've given up the pretense
We learned it all, lashing out note by note Bracing our minds and fingers to learn by rote Wishing to become our idols instead of our voice It may be we're better off to make our own choice
The new paths are found by our mistakes Just as love is learned by our heartbreaks Incidentally heathens lost in the wilderness We found deeper truths in pursuing our ignorance
Despite all the reading, we failed the test Finding ourselves no better than the rest The chaos and contradiction make become sense Now that we've given up the pretense
The pain cuts deep between our dreams and who we are As we bleed our fingers to the bone on our guitars Finding that despite all of our hours of dedication If we try to be someone else, we'll fail the expectation
It is better instead to play what we find in our hearts Despite it seems, many of what feel like false starts The ghosts in our clocks wish they could turn back But it turns out, belief is the only thing we lacked
(c) March 29, 2025 Michael Doyle All Rights Reserved
“The government, which was designed for the people, has got into the hands of the bosses and their employers, the special interests. An invisible empire has been set up above the forms of democracy.” – Woodrow Wilson
“Government has three primary functions. It should provide for military defense of the nation. It should enforce contracts between individuals. It should protect citizens from crimes against themselves or their property. When government– in pursuit of good intentions tries to rearrange the economy, legislate morality, or help special interests, the cost come in inefficiency, lack of motivation, and loss of freedom. Government should be a referee, not an active player.” – Milton Friedman
Every curve, every gleam, every sight Her words were a whisper in the night Charms awaken my soul as she blazed My heart on fire, I stood amazed
The depth of her soul was uncharted kindness It was crystal clear despite momentary blindness As her smile sparkled as much as her eyes Like stars erasing the darkness of my skies
Unknown before known Her arrival brought significance Before her beauty was shown There was the sweetest fragrance
It came on a quiet wind of change As my plans for life rearranged Bubble baths are for smiling queens And bring us our comforting dreams
Her unexpected spark lit this poet's life Melted like saffron, a dream becomes rife She arrived as my muse magically unveiled The truths of my soul were what she revealed
Timeless and captivating is a love to last Putting to rest all the pain of a poet's past Graceful radiance is timeless as a soul's discovery Grateful is my attitude for what my muse does for me
Unknown before known Her arrival brought significance Before her beauty was shown There was the sweetest fragrance
It came on a quiet wind of change As my plans for life rearranged Bubble baths are for smiling queens And bring us our comforting dreams
(c) March 29, 2025 Michael Doyle All Rights Reserved
“The ability to produce every necessity of life renders us independent in war as well as in peace.” – Millard Fillmore
Trump is correct in the desire for an absolute utility and necessity of bringing manufacturing and agriculture back from overseas, where and when possible, without unnecessary ruin to our economy.
Stretching my SUV across the Greater Ohio Valley I see what my travels bring closer to me Here in what were once considered idle spaces Are the dreams that leave me etching their traces
The displacement is felt as the strangers encroach The wilderness disappears at the uncivil approach French hymns echo away the fragility of harmony As tension dominates and clarifies history's complexity
These are the hills and valleys to die on All those ghosts of the past already gone Screaming out like an Iroquois war cry We push the borders without questioning why
These are the valleys and hills to die on My angelic muse sits near, but the past is gone Silver tongues turned to bullets, leaving debts unpaid Her mystic dance is written on the shadows played
Peace was fleeting in its uncherished fragility As time travels, in reflection, it loses its harmony Conflicts loomed in the tensions of this wilderness Wilderness offers promises and its betrayed kiss
Reading the wampum of each discarded treaty This land mediated the battles that became history Borders have given way to tire tracks discarded Tattoos of misbehavior have become well-regarded
These are the hills and valleys to die on All those ghosts of the past already gone Screaming out like an Iroquois war cry We push the borders without questioning why
These are the valleys and hills to die on My angelic muse sits near, but the past is gone Silver tongues turned to bullets, leaving debts unpaid Her mystic dances are written on the shadows played
The valley we travel through is witness to every ceded change As treaties, villages, and boundaries came to rearrange Expanding and retracting paired with a glass of resilience The nation has become known for its sense of brilliance
The middle ground sets the stage for its control Each people becomes part of the valley's cherished soul Its contested space has become a confluence of culture Blending like rivers merging, unified but its nurture
These are the hills and valleys to die on All those ghosts of the past already gone Screaming out like an Iroquois war cry We push the borders without questioning why
These are the valleys and hills to die on My angelic muse sits near, but the past is gone Silver tongues turned to bullets, leaving debts unpaid Her mystic dances are written on the shadows played
(c) March 27, 2025 Michael Doyle All Rights Reserved
Heading out of Australia to escape this Aussie winter. First stop Japan, then UK/Ireland and if work doesn't call me back, onto Chicago. I will make it up as I go along
