The Long Way Up

Zeus indeed commanded it Compelling all to bow A deafening sound, a rumble What do we do right now? Olympus dwellers exclaim And mortals choose parlay The father of the deities  Had something else to say Elsewhere, far, however The Son of Asgard tries Without a heavy hammer Who knows how he will fly Preceding or proceeding It ever will be heard When Odinson approaches The skies produce one word Perhaps another wielder Of wind and rain and hale Can aptly demonstrate here Where others ably fail Demanding eyes to witness And ears to hear the peals Let Miss Ororo Munroe Show you the real deal But really, as it turns out The noise, the boisterous din Brought stormy clouds and rainfall And joys come from within 'Cause Willy's favorite product Got soaked and melted, flowed Into a chocolate river Confectioners explode

"Jordan, make sure you stow the hose and the cart properly in the barn, okay? It's almost dinner time. You know your Mom does not want us to leave the food waiting at the table and get cold!" The voice of the elder male reverberates across the field as he finishes herding the last of his sheep into the pen for the night. His instructions were promptly heeded by the younger male, who was making his way into the mahogany-hued outhouse. "I'm on it, Dad. Were you able to catch up with Polly? Today has been the twelfth time she's gotten lost -- or run away. Such a cheeky little bugger, she is!" As Nigel shuts the gate of the sheep pen, he starts heading towards the barn, where his son is. "Yep! She'll be right, son. She never wanders too far off anyway. But..." he pauses mid-sentence as he stops by the door of the outhouse, looking at Jordan tidying up the rest of the barn. "We could definitely use some help around here. I'm knackered e

tones of grief, epitome of shame half-wrought  notes : apology or blame throw the stone — regret — into the deep on the edge, the onset very steep share the baggage, every single weight but unload and shear before too late silent burden hears a lot and more scurrying like hares upon the floor steal the thunder and obscure the light slip them tales of fake and frigid might wipe the board clean; write it on a slate stale or recent; do not hesitate smile , go on like everything’s afloat keep it neat; there’s slime under the moat don’t be dour, sour from these limes   miles to go; there will be sleeping time

I have been around long enough to have seen many iterations of the life story of Jesus Christ through several different media. From movies that paint broad strokes of the Messiah’s three-year ministry and human interactions, to TV programs that attempt to have a more in-depth look at His life, work, death, and resurrection, there has not been a shortage of big screen releases and small screen adaptations. What has been in some level of shortage though in the last decade of faith-based projects are relatable depictions of Bible characters, compelling narratives, and good, solid scripting. Personally, the last, great piece of media based on the life of Jesus that I have come across — and come to love — was Mel Gibson’s The Passion of the Christ. That was 16 years ago. It’s high time we had a follow-up. As a lover of movies and TV series for most of my life — all 45 years of it — I would like to think that I have, over the years, developed a discerning taste for good entertainment based o

Feel free to judge me Go on, expose your heart Point your self-righteous finger If you really want to start Make your estimations Conjecture all you like In the end, it’s not my vocals Blaring on the mic Feel free to judge me You’re perfect, I presume Your character’s in order That's what I would assume Or maybe check the mirror For specks inside your eye Don’t worry ‘bout my vision I take care of my sight Feel free to judge me But keep it to yourself If I do not solicit Then I don’t need your help Respect is quite essential Like distancing and masks If I'm in need of wisdom Then I would surely ask Feel free to judge me But better judge your own Let them that do not have sin Be first to cast a stone I'm not your goodwill project Can’t read my heart and mind You do not know my story So don’t be rude; be kind Feel free to judge me I’m beloved by my Lord He will rightly defend me Be careful with your sword Do not do unto others What’s not been done to you Let God be Judge and

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