“A man may commit sin and yet be ignorant of it, and fancy himself innocent when he is guilty… We shall do well to remember that when we make our own miserably imperfect knowledge and consciousness the measure of our sinfulness, we are on very dangerous ground.” – J.C. Ryle
“Therefore no one will be declared righteous in God’s sight by observing the law; rather, through the law we become conscious of our sin.” – Romans 3:20
Avarice and Vice
by Michael Doyle
In this workaday world, we barely muddle through
We worry about our own lives more than justice due
Our duty is more toward the good of our own family
Than to worry about every nuance of society
If another man must hang by taking our guilty place
It is counted as fate and accepted in muddled grace
Better that someone pay the price for avarice and vice
Than to become susceptible to a noose-like vise
This is the way society rolls as it's being defined
Guilt and innocence are simply constructs refined
Into discussions found within a philosopher's book
What does truth matter if nobody genuinely looks?
Beneath the veneer and just below society's surface
Is the fact that each of us is viewed for purpose
Truth, justice, and even mercy become mere constructs
As our world around us first magnifies then destructs
If we reflect silently, we will hear the voice
That tells us all that love or hate is our choice
This choice defines what will be our final outcome
Hell on Earth, or our father's kingdom
(c) February 8, 2025 Michael Doyle
All Rights Reserved
“There comes a point when a man must refuse to answer to his leader if he is also to answer to his own conscience.” – Hartley William Shawcross
“The multiplication of public offices, increase of expense beyond income, growth and entailment of a public debt, are indications soliciting the employment of the pruning knife.” – Thomas Jefferson (1821)
Balance of Power
by Michael Doyle
Your people came to my people
With all of their demands
Before we knew what coexistence meant
We had lost all our sacred lands
We were offered the peace
That can only be called brutality
As we were savagely rounded up
By your people quite capably
However, you date your people's arrival
Since then, it has been a fight for survival
You presented this as manifested destiny
As you tried to write my people out of history
You claimed your foot on the necks of my people
While you worshipped your God under the steeple
Exterminating the people of this conquered wilderness
Taking from us our last shattered wildness
As you made my people starve and bleed
You used this story as a basis to teach and read
As if this was the message to be spread
As if this was the story of a people now dead
But we will shape our own story
No different than any other people in history
We began with wampum belts to share our glory
Stories of winters spent became our oral story
Frederick Turner Jackson must have been blind
In his visions of my people being left behind
Today, the imprint of Native America is evident
And into the future, we will remain relevant
Inheritors of traumas and children of legacy
To believe us destroyed is your own dramedy
Though vast in its perceived dimensions
The true story is two-way in its precision
Purposeful actions are needed to restore our dignity
As a people in search of redeemed sovereignty
It's this recovery and in our needed revitalization
That the first peoples will restore our traditions
In recovering our proud sense of native community
We will again be part of the Great Spirit's family
Finding ourselves by pushing past a sense of conquest
To an extraordinary people who survived their test
(c) February 7, 2025 Michael Doyle
All Rights Reserved
“You are not judged by the height you have risen, but from the depth you have climbed.” – Frederick Douglass
“Hold fast to the Bible as the sheet-anchor of your liberties; write its precepts in your hearts, and practice them in your lives.” – Ulysses S. Grant
Shifting Through the Ashes
by Michael Doyle
Standing here talking close together
You say it's for worse or for better
Shifting through the ashes of an argument
Can you tell me, baby, where the money's spent?
You laugh and concede it as a steady need
Waiting for me to ignore as you plead
That a woman likes to look good for her man
But how long has it been since you've held my hand?
Angels of fortune, they know their lies
The truths they conceal behind their eyes
Star maps hold the beauty of constellations
But none are so gorgeous as my sweet fascination
Letting go of false idols as you pretend to follow
Child of the sun, but you wear like a shadow
There's the worse sort of danger there inside
It is not of those you can too easily hide
Like a child abandoned in a stranger's room
Your velveteen lips spell echoes of doom
Your joy for life is mired in its bitterness
For so much going on, there is a lot of emptiness
Angels of fortune, they know their lies
The truths they conceal behind their eyes
Star maps hold the beauty of constellations
But none are so gorgeous as my sweet fascination
Somewhere above the skies is what connects us
The trick of this ramble is to reach for the nexus
Like two falling stars that meet as they collide
I open my eyes too late to care about my pride
For the love of the god of wishful thinking
I often find myself alone in my drinking
Making games of guessing at walled shadows
And in the end, all I know is less than the fire's glow
Angels of fortune, they know their lies
The truths they conceal behind their eyes
Star maps hold the beauty of constellations
But none are so gorgeous as my sweet fascination
(c) February 6, 2025 Michael Doyle
All Rights Reserved
“To be prepared for war, is one of the most effectual means of preserving peace.” – George Washington (1790)
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