Come on now; be on the level The details between God and the Devil Add up to a fuzzy sort of math Where we humans stumble on the path
Sometimes the thoughts spin our heads And we sink into slouch, pretending we're dead Not wanting to stick our foot in the water Maybe the toes and not an inch further
The pain we feel is oddly self chosen As our pride catches us sometimes dozing The river of deceitfulness feels clever But takes us on an approach to the never
Of ever getting the things right that we need It's a small pang inside that we don't heed As our drifts of mumbles and grumbles tear us down Painting our smile to the frozen tears of frown
In our self-deceit, we whisper as if we hold truth It's a complicated game that we've played since youth Standing in false humility in a Jesus Christ pose We eke our lives through by the skin of our noses
Turning the tides and turning tables We keep playing our Cains to everyone else's Abels We are strangers to ourselves even in full boom And yet we wonder why we only believe in our doom
The glyceine of it all tends to suck us dry As we hope that we'll stumble on by Swallowing our pride despite the heavy cost Of knowing that most of us are completely lost
(c) July 31, 2023 Michael Doyle All Rights Reserved
In my continuing compilation of public playlists on Spotify, I am now sharing the first half of a list that is one of the gifts for my oldest daughter’s birthday tomorrow. Like her father before her, she loves to sing and play music. This music consists of some of her favorite genres and some of the songs she loves to explore … and then some added as these appeared on the lists provided by DigitalDreamDoor as primary examples of these music styles.
Grunge is a loosely defined musical movement that was essentially part of what was considered the Seattle Sound and yet it was not a movement at all. There is a wide diversity of musical approaches that some consider to be within this genre. Either way, this playlist is dedicated to my daughter. Happy Birthday!! Please enjoy.
“There are more instances of the abridgment of the freedom of the people by gradual and silent encroachments of those in power than by violent and sudden usurpations.” – James Madison (1788)
Before my eyes and with my own ears I've witnessed miracles in my years Yet, there have still been times of pain Which have brought lessons, not in vain
Hard times hit, and they hit hard With darkness compelling like a wild card Stressing the relationship with these cares Given in limitation to God in prayers
The Psalmist's faith proves out theology Willing to be dependent on God's sovereignty Sorrow expressed in devout communication Humbly given when we feel our worst frustration
From heartbreak to hope, these times hit home As we submit standing at the foot of His throne From Old Testament and as revealed in the New The pain of the Psalmist is kept in plain view
Wrestling with thoughts and in our deep sorrow Is the trust and faith believing in tomorrow That we will yet, find our way to redemption As God's response is kept encouraged in contemplation
Eyes on God in our times when we are buried in trouble We're to be earnest and not lost up in steady grumble No silent treatment helps heal the wounds of life It is soul-killing when you need peace in the strife
Your silence with God tends to let in the enemy It does nothing to help in life's severity We must remember the miracles we've seen done Keeping faith in the power in the holy three-in-one
Allowing the Holy Spirit to come in intercession As the paces take us through a groaning progression Our pain cannot be our point of enduring separation As we cry out in our depths of agony and desperation
That nothing will separate us from God's faithful love And as we keep our eyes on the sanctuary of Heaven above It matters little the who or the what that holds the blame On every occasion, let's call out loud in God's Holy name
Remembering that God is with us in our troubled moments Sitting beside us through all of what seem endless torments Curled up there at times in all our wordless tears Is sometimes what is needed to get through our years
Words can be awkward as we continue to walk our talk With God's holiness present in every step of our walk It is more than okay to humbly lament and reveal Until troubled times pass and we learn again to be still
(c) July 30, 2023 Michael Doyle All Rights Reserved
“Every man feels instinctively that all the beautiful sentiments in the world weigh less than a single lovely action” – James Russell Lowell, poet, editor, and diplomat (22 Feb 1819-1891)
In the uncomfortable truths there were connections Nothing compared to her open, honest reflections On those things often very difficult to say She never paid much mind to bringing controversy to the day
Perhaps it is that she truly said it best That the world shouldn't measure artistry by success It's hard to walk the line of the spiritual borders That get caged in by a bi-polar disorder
The Rememberings that will never be forgot Will stay part of the World's soul in what she brought Beauty in a devastation of uncertain circumstance Her words of love flow still in fine romance
Ahead of her time and deserving peace she never found There was a fearlessness to Sinead that couldn't be bound There are no words to express the world's loss This ferocious honesty that forged her own cross
She had a voice that cracked stone in increments And now she has become one with the starry firmament No parent should ever live past the death of a child It's an unholy feeling that leaves you defiled
Since that fateful day of her son's death She lived undead as if with her last breath Unable to find that needed place of healing She bled her words Tweeted and soul revealing
Down an unrecognizable corridor of sorrow Unable to bear new thoughts of tomorrow She found that she must walk another way Between death and rebirth to find another day
No longer properly alive; nor properly dead The borders lying between filled her head Sliding between dimensions and realities Of conversations with peaceful and wrathful deities
There is a cosmic liberation beyond fearing Post-conventional morality found in truly hearing Past the remorse of show feeling entirely culpable For regretting beyond the spiritually capable
Such losses leave a life feeling up-ended And the usual way of life can become suspended There is a karmic hazard when death closes in As the extinction of illusion blows out the candle again
Liberation is believed by some as yet to come In the fleeting moments of being entirely undone With the sections and subsections of different orders That want and wander on the edges of life's borders
The bardo of the moment of one's own death Becomes the clear light of the reality of one's breath Approached in the nearest attempt at approximation To help guide one's path forward in circumspection
Until the bardo of experienced true reality Becomes in its multiple forms of duality The death and the between prior to re-birth In the Yab-yum that coalesces wisdom on Earth
This twilight language seeks compassion and wisdom In a mystical union that defies God's kingdom Perhaps Sinead sought to overcome Maya's veils To bring peace to her son that his understanding concealed
A parent surviving a child's death finds life upended He was seen like soulmate and maybe her love transcended Life to be brought down slow and drawn back restrained It wouldn't be surprising if in losing her life... ...she sought his regained
(c) July 29, 2023 Michael Doyle All Rights Reserved
(Please read Sinead's last several Tweets to best understand the direction of this poem as a seemingly plausible explanation for her unfortunate passing)
“I have never thought much of the courage of a lion tamer. Inside the cage he is at least safe from other men. There is not much harm in a lion. He has no ideals, no religion, no politics, no chivalry, no gentility; in short, no reason for destroying anything that he does not want to eat.” -George Bernard Shaw, writer, Nobel laureate (26 Jul 1856-1950)
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
