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bootleg_preacher
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read my profile
sign my guestbook
Name: Joshua
Country: United States
State: Tennessee
Metro: Nashville
Birthday: 6/5/1977
Gender: Male
Interests: I like to read anything except mystery novels. My passion, of course, is preaching. I love to invite others into the world of the gospel through the power of speech, not technology. Another passion of mine is theology and politics-the reason being neither field has any real definite answers and that seems to keep me humble. Anyway, I love reading and talking about theology as well as spending time with my beautiful daughters Trinity & Eliana and my wonderful wife Michelle. I love icons, Taize prayers, and trying to live the gospel of Jesus by bringing real justice into the world.
Expertise: I have no expertise. My field of study does not allow me to claim hegemony over anyone or anything else--at least in theory.
Occupation: Other
Industry: Other
Message: message me
Website: visit my website
AIM:  preacherfite
Member Since:
8/17/2005
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| I love this guy. I think I'm goin to write him a letter and ask if I can come visit 'im. check it out.
http://www.canopicpublishing.com/juke/contents2/audiencetonight.htm
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| Daddy, can I come?
Words searing like the sun
yet mine clinging for life.
Choked back.
Daddy, must you go?
Both trying to unravel mysteries
which bring us to this place.
No choice.
Daddy, will you be back?
Uncertainties warranting query
give no space for answers.
I hope.
Daddy, shall we wait for you?
Dreadful thoughts creeping,
displacing better times.
Tears fall.
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| Once there were no lines in the sand.
Breaking Freedom.
Stopping Movement.
Caught in the middle of bureaucratic rot--
my people cut in two.
Citizens of two different worlds.
Whose land is it anyway?
If nothing else time is the guarantor of entitlement.
Countless suns and moons have traced the sky before me.
Yet I stand unbroken, unchanged--
my people seeking the unity which is my fortune.
One side facing the other--
barbed fences welcoming the embrace;
Mocking freedom known in ages past.
Once there were no lines in the sand.
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| I know a place where thorns and scorpions dwell,
where the sun knows no mercy, where heat siphons
life like the cactus draws water from parched earth.
I know a place where bones bleach white in the sun,
symbolic evocations to the wary soul traversing this path--
where nightmares unfold, piercing fine lines between fantasy and reality.
I know a place where coyotes prowl,
playing the Pied Piper, exploiting those seeking better life.
Promises of days turn into weeks--
the Sonoran drinks life aplenty.
Yes, I know a place where thorns and scorpions dwell.
Neither time nor distance efface memories seared into consciousness.
The Sonoran is here, where reality gives way to metaphor,
a prophets home in the midst of angry ignorance--
where thorns refashion into acrimonious tongues,
and scorpions into blind hatred. | | |
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