River’s Choice

The river used to flow for me.

Tired and worn down, lips cracked with the merciless blood leaks of ambition… the dry riverbed would flow for me. Would grace me with the refreshing honor of parching my thirst and revitalizing my skin.

My invitation was open ended like the fat man’s appetite, never rescinded like glory in the afterlife, I would often make my way there after night. Hidden in shadow but spied by the discretion governed pale eye of the moon. Under cover of light and darkness I would whisper the gray of my heart out and the river would flow for me. Into my mouth, over my brain, through my eyes, across my back…

I was never ashamed to be broken because I knew the river’s affection for me began in eternity and continued on into forever.

Very often it was the weight of identity in my mind which drove me to my knees in defeat… needing the coolness of the river, but forcing myself to endure the heat. Desert sand began to define me like a dictionary written in braille with seashells in hand. I couldn’t see well enough to stand. Burden bigger than the sea whale Hancock threw off the land.

I collapsed at the river for healing again…

But that day my awareness of my neediness and spoiled gain played against me…

The river doesn’t flow for me anymore.

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One Day

One day we will learn that unity is cultivated by the lines that divide…
One day we will learn that all beliefs are temporary in an open mind…

One day we will see that truth and wisdom aren’t ours to barter and trade with for convenience…
One day we will understand that the struggle of identity is part of the human being experience, even Jesus…

One day we will grasp the folly in thinking we can change who we are through slick phrases and biological arrangement…
One day we’ll stop jabbing life’s book with our broken pens and learn to be adept at studying the pages…

One day we will believe we have purpose so strongly that we know freedom is not in the violating of these fleshly containers…

One day we will respect, not just the divinity, but the INTELLIGENCE of the Creator.

One day it’ll pierce our thick skulls through these skin walls that our issues and justice causes have root flaws that aren’t visible, they’re spiritual…
But until that day…

May we humbly increase in humility and actual understanding…

And may Grace liberally cover us all.

The Juvermeinx: The People With No Mouths

Your tongues are thick with their rhetoric… lips sewn shut by their targeted claims of bigotry… any thought you thought you once had is distilled through the mediocre philosophy of not offending or judging anybody.

Your burning desire to reduce conflict’s flame is erasing your humanity.

You have given them permission to do ANYTHING.

They turn God to myth and make women out of our men. Females think they want to be males, tolerance is made to seem swell, but if gender gets completely deleted, psycho-emotional infantry will be mass deceased and the souls of this earth will be poisoned beneath the feet of a people who don’t know what being a person even really means.

And you’re so scared to be opposed by the big shots that you defend the ridiculous menacing vigorously. These degenerates generate religiously, using the very tactics of the Christians that crippled them initially.

Funny.

They needed to escape the manipulators of God’s name, so they could get away and express their deep struggle in a real way… and instead, they made their God their pain and their reality their struggle. They eliminated internal fight and replaced it with “normal.”  Is it really true that a few bad people have this much power over you? A few people who abused God’s truths can completely restructure your life for you? Must be, because you are now the few people forcing the many to capitulate to you.

So what are YOU going to do. Yeah you. With the thick tongue and mouth sewn shut.

It’s embarrassing to be part of a humanity that calls itself progressive when the protestors can’t speak up.

You need to do something before you’re wiped out. At least if you’re catching flak, that means you’re taking responsibility for being alive. Look at the history books- light has always had to struggle to survive. That’s why they don’t fight for their rightness, they fight for your silence.

It’s the key to our genocide.

-The Juvermeinx

Always Windy

The wind exists inside of me.

I can topple towers, I can uproot gardens, I can magically whisk imaginative girls to far away places.

The wind is neither predator nor prey.

It is a response. Every gust of rushing invisible power influenced by the shifting cosmos tilting the earth and reshuffling the cards across the board. Some days it feels remarkably tame, and other days it feels like unstained insanity, mentally under feet like wildebeests stampeding…

I killed Mufasa, but saved Simba.

Abandoned Vader, but empowered Luke.

The wind exists inside me, never to be conquered, vanquished, or stilled.

I am the wind.

I am intelligence.

I am creativity.

I am free.

The Juvermeinx

I have decided to have nothing more to do with them.

I will leave them to rot in the chaotic, lying fumes of their hell razed fairytale.

I shall let them linger in the cheerful woes of their mocking delusions.

I shall let them perish in their arrogant displacement of balanced thought.

I will leave them to their imminent demise upon the island of righteous self intent.

I shall despair not when the sky of truth comes crashing down on them, and they have no cloud for rescue.

I shall trouble myself no further with their elegant modeling of the libel they struck me with.

I shall tend to the well being of only a precious few.

All earthly hell be damned, for all earth shall be damned in hell.

There is one path to Heaven and I have taken it.

Do not confuse the roads leading to the pathway to Heaven, for the pathway to Heaven itself.

It is perhaps most un-angelic of me, but I am neither angel nor am I Savior.

I am done with them, I say. Finished. Let dust flecked feet upon well trodden cobblestones, be our witness henceforth.

Sincerely (if I may),

The Juvermeinx