The Literary Bumpkin's Blog

Our love-story  was a  paper  in grime before the burnin' flame of time their ashes flew they're gone— like all your  promises in the mornin dew; they are eternally undone the wind had failed us to keep thence gave us its temporal weep but only for a star to die, t'would  brighten brightest in the wake of its goodbye

Words are a tide leaving behind, parting away, goodbye, this bleakest shore—  all those wandering verses in mind I spoke words of  loudest glee in silent waters echoes verses  in the alphabet  of my reticence. my thoughts, dear penetrated deeper the whispers of my heart— bleeding poetry  as it drags  all our precious  summer days how poor indeed are the choicest words to kiss the traces of our  passing days where the suns, and ebony sky the silver stars and the rosy moons  held us up  divide us never. . . yet how rich are we to dwell in the bounty of  His grace— where our tears  and beams; our joy and pain perfectly hugs the number of our days. I heart you to the happy moons in six!  Jez

Good works involve two important concepts, namely "good" and "works". The former concept, implies at least two things--quality and standard; the latter concept denotes a phenomenon or a product. Hence, when these two terms are collocated or combined, its meaning becomes "a phenomenon whose quality is based on a standard". Therefore, the quality of good works is not relative, much less arbitrary; it is God-defined.  A question might be broached, "What then is good works, theologically?" Limme cut to the chase, any work that does not proceed from a regenerated heart or from faith, is no good work at all. To borrow the Apostle Paul's words, "What is not done in faith is SIN" (See Rom 14:23). An unbeliever, say for example, may commit charitable acts on the surface, such supposed deeds, anyhow, when considered in its entirety (including its quality, motives and purpose) drastically fall short from the "works" th...

Let me have my  abode in you— in the deepest  part of your skin,  in every grain of your being; let me cling to  your heart,  your belly,  chin, legs, hands,  and all your parts only in your death will I die keeping your blood always up high: in a word, i am eternally married with you— the day you chose to live the day you delighted to feed the hunger of your  flesh — Your Fats

If I will to take pains counting the remaining days with patient eyes, it will just run slower like a turtle moves away backward from the horse that runs forward