The House on Skelton Drive

Although I've been given the address of the house on Skelton Drive, I expect something different for a professor's home, and as I park my red car at the curb, I sit there staring, thinking it must be a joke and maybe I should drive away, before I give somebody a heart attack from laughing too much.

This wasn't a fancy kept Addams Family home, although its architectural style was from the same era.

But this house has been a few years in disrepair, and I must give it its due, the thing looked haunted.

Why would Professor Nightshader reside in this hole?

Well, I must answer some of these questions, and the best way would be to go knock on the door and see who answers. If the Professor answers my knock, I'd have to put aside the idea it's a joke, because he wasn't the kind to joke. I've never met a more solemn kind of fella.

So I screw up my nerve and I walk to that red door, and I take the doorknob with the screaming skull and I rap three times. And then, I wait.

As the door creaks inward, there stands Professor Nightshader, and the sunshine falls inside the doorway. His mouth falls open and his shadow appears on the wall inside, upon another paneled door; a gigantic shadow of bat wings.

"Hurry and come in, the sun hurts my eyes," Professor Nightshader says, urgently. As a smell of something burning stings my nostrils.

I look to my right, at the fence and see the Jack-o-lantern scarecrow protecting the lot...finding that about as disconcerting as the smoldering Professor Nightshader who has scurried further back into the darkened hallway, I'm really wanting to get the heck out of here, but I have a book report to deliver, since I missed turning it in earlier, and if I don't get it to him now, he had already said any reports turned in after October 31 would see their grade average drop a full 1/3, and that just seems unfair, but Professor Nightshader has a reputation of failing half his class because of steep rules which he won't bend if you break.

Inside, the professor has calmed sufficiently to welcome me, "Hello, Harry Cassetty, I'm glad you came, there is someone I've been wanting you to meet."

I handed him the report and said, "Here's my book report on Sabine's Potions and Illuminations."

"Excellent, I knew you would have it for me. You've been my favorite student this semester. So are you ready to meet Sabine?"

"Really, Professor, but she was burned in 1656."

"This Sabine is my niece."

"Oh, in that case, cool; I'd like to meet her."

I followed Professor Nightshader, as he scurried around corners that had been lit 

by candlelight inside globe-shaded candelabra  making that eerie bat shadow appear to be scampering over the walls sometimes ahead of us, sometimes behind us, sometimes skittering over our heads...

Finally, we reached a door and the professor calls out, "Darling Sabine, we have a guest; I'd like you to meet. May we enter, dear?"

"Please, do,"  a musical tinkling voice answers, young and sweet it sounds.

We go in. The chamber is all rosy, with a large fireplace and a black kettle bubbling over the flames, but the smell is one of vegetable soup cooking, not some icky potion made of questionable ingredients. And I realize I'm very hungry. The girl stirring the pot with a long ladle, smiles over her shoulder; she's bathed in a golden light, her face is beautiful, long hair to her waist, a pointed leather hat on her head.

"Hello, Uncle Gill, and this is Harry? Hi, Harry, will you have a bowl of my stew?"

"I'd love to try it, Sabine. It smells wonderful."

"You're not afraid to eat witch's stew on Samhain?" Professor Nightshader asks me?

"Not if it is made by Sabine." I smile.

"Take your seat at the table. And eat all you desire."

I sit down and so does the professor.

 As I take up my spoon, ready to dip into the rich, full bowl of vegetable stew, a bottle catches my eye, that sets in the center of the table; a bottle of boos; sparkling lights twinkle inside, a black cat and ghosts and bats were painted on it. There's a cork in the top, and as I lean closer I hear 'boo, booo' coming from within.
"It helps set the mood," the professor says.
"I catch them in the cemetery three doors down," Sabine explains.
"I go down there at midnight and release them, with the promise that next year, they can come back to visit with me again."

"Oh, so do you conjure them with your book of shadows? And are you any kin to your name sake?" I ask, deciding this soup is more turnip than potato and it has more pepper than salt; my sinuses are starting to stream and I wish for a tissue to blow my nose, but there's nothing, not even a napkin.

"Yes to both questions," Sabine says, stepping over to me, she holds out an apple that shines so bright I can see our reflection mirrored up-side down on its skin.
"Have an apple on me, deary." She says, but I shake my head.
"Too bad, your loss," she says, and hands it to her uncle.
I watch as he opens his mouth to bite, and I see the fangs.
"Oh, I'm a fruit-bat, not a vampire bat." He says, "I live on fruit pulp and veggies...blood gives me indigestion."

Sabine says, "Are you drowsy, yet, Harry?"
I'm nodding, my eyelids very heavy.
"Excellent," her words, this room, and my two hosts are growing distant, fuzzy...the last I hear is this, "The stew's potent...you will sleep a sleep like the dead." Her laughter's no longer twinkly but raucous like the squawk of a crow.

I waken, sitting in my car, as the sun rises higher over the roof of the decrepit house...I must have slept all night here, my neck creaks and I feel very stiff.

At school, when I walk into class, a man I don't know sits on the edge of Professor Nightshader's desk.
"Hello, you must be Harry Cassetty; I'm Mr. Binder...I'm the new teacher for the rest of the year, taking over my predecessor's caseload."

"And what happened to the professor?"

"No one is quite sure, but he was found in the yard of his home. He was burned severely, parts of his limbs had disintegrated into dust..they found your report there in the leaves. Was you the last to see him alive?"

I look at the people staring at me.

"I've not talked to anyone; so maybe I'd better not say anything, in case the police want to talk to me."

The class is a blur. I remember little because half way into it the police come in and I leave with them; I heard the class muttering behind me. "Did Harry kill Professor Nightshader?"

All I could tell the cops was what I have told here; and as to how the professor ended up out by the scarecrow, partly burned to a crisp and the rest of him dust, I can't say, nor why I was back in my car, or what happened to the mysterious Sabine.

But I do know this, if I ever meet her again, I'm telling her she sure can make a mean pot of stew.

THE END

Just Believe

A bounty is here at hand,

I want to share with you.

I promise if you accept, you

will not leave empty-handed.

some things in life

take on a need to be seen

in a different light

or in a different way

if you let your imagination free

to go wherever it will

then you will find each day

with less strife

but plenty of wonder

 but some people are so afraid of change

or even of stepping outside the norm

or outside their comfort zone

they instead end up,

a spider-web shielded skull screaming in a corner

unwilling to admit they have fallen behind the times

and life on the fast track

has passed them by

is it too late to turn back?

contemplation to a cup of tea

a warm sweater and an engagement ring

will sanity hold together any fear of derangement you see

as you stare at the tea grains forming, in arrangement, a scene

contemplation in a cup of tea

The raven tops

 the totem of autumn gourds

arranged on the bird bath in the side yard

as dusk comes on October thirty-first;

will that yearly Halloween thirst,

for all things strange and wonderful, 

be satisfied 

or will it die,

after a long and lengthy cry

of utter terror

that raises hair and goosebumps

to any close enough by

to hear the mad rustlings in the dark?

A fall time yard, multi-layered trees

the windows of the house glow,

reflecting the orange flame colors of the leaves;

 prepartions are being made

for school parties and outfits made to scare

the home-owners into giving them nice treats

so no mean tricks are played at night

on All Hallow's Eve

                                                     oh my, what is in the chestnut shell
                                                                      staring at me?
                                                              I must take it with me,
                                                             for who will believe me
                                                          without it to show them and
                                                                  what will they do
                                                         when they see it staring back
                                                     at them from inside its spiny shell?

                                                                     
                                                            I hurried down to my friends,
                                                                       wanting to show
                                                               what I found on my way there,
                                                                       and as I walk up
                                                            to the door, two kittens watch me,
                                                            a display of pumpkin and squash
                                                                       sits on a crate...
                                                          my surprise find is pricking my hand,
                                                               but I won't throw it away

after all, I have brought a prize that is special

because magic can be captured inside a jar

and in the wonder of the sight

a surety is at hand

that the wildest impossibility

is never impossible at this time of year.

not if you suspend disbelief

and believe

Out for an Autumn Stroll

Out for an Autumn stroll

Just to see the colors true...

Leaves of orange, yellow and red

 The summer green, we think so right,

Are the trees in mask, not the shades of fall... 

A stairs, leave-strewn and bold

Where will they lead?

Just watch the step, leaves can be slick if damp

Passing by a fence, what do I see?

A pumpkin yard is full of orange pumpkins

so many as this, must be for sale

it isn't a field, so they came from somewhere

will children come here

and pick out their favorite ones

and take them home

to carve them into Jack-o-lanterns

to sit on the porch and sidewalk

with a candle lit

inside to cast the faces made on the gourds' sides

and meet and greet

the spooks and creepy things 

that pass by on all hallow's eve night?

here I find another set of steps

this one carefully swept

no loose, fallen leaves but each step

has a pumpkin setting there

and vine leaves grip tight

the back wall of each step...

neatly tended, a care is given here

that says, "I love this time of year"

and in this spot, it is hard to fear

the unknown

it feels safe

walking further, something moves among the leaves

I pause and wait, wondering

and then something furry and grey emerges

from beneath the tossed up  orange leaves

a kitten plays

chewing, biting, kicking the leaves

I am amused and laugh at the antics of the playful cat

going home, it has become dark

and colder, a wind picked up and nips at my heels

on my way, I am sent

and at home, I only want to snuggle

and feel content

I sit on my favorite couch, I desire

my legs under me,

with a brown, autumn homemade throw

draped o'er me,

as I listen to the crackling fire

and the wind at the eaves

a late evening in the autumn time

on the coffee table, beside a stack of books to be read

a harvest bowl of pears

red and green with a touch of orange blush

nestled in leaves

appeals to my hunger

along with luscious pears,

I want

a hot cup of cocoa, 

topped with melted marshmallows 

and rimmed with cinnamon toasted 

crunchy bits for extra flavor

now this, I call fun

Red apples, picked from the tree in the yard

home grown apples beat store-bought

you know they are yours, they are free

for the picking...sought

for the fun of eatting them or baking them

and whatever doesn't get collected will feed

the animals of the neighborhood

apples, with stars in the heart

 and a seed

 in each point

apples so dear

fruit of the field

And when Halloween is done

that does not mean fall is over

The cornucopia of the autumn season is 

yet to be filled to over-flowing

And to some it will reach its peak

as families gather around the table

filled to bounty its display of goodies

All the best that crops have produced

to give thanks to the lord

for what there is in life

to be grateful for

The Seven Woes which Jesus named the Pharisees: Their Relation to this Day and Time

The Seven Woes which Jesus named the Pharisees: Their Relation to this Day and Time

(See Mathew, Chapter 23, for these seven woes in the bible)

Here are the seven woes of hypocrisy:

Woe 1: Teachers of Religious Law and you Pharisees: sorrow awaits you: hypocrites! Shutting the door of the Kingdom of Heaven in people’s faces, neither do you enter nor will you allow others to enter in.

Now: There are churches and organizations, who will frown on someone who is not dressed in the finest, with a fancy car setting in the parking lot. Come in looking poor, expect to be treated poorly; no chance, according to them, that such a sinner can find atonement and make it into Heaven; “just not up to standards, can’t quite cut the mustard, you’re dirty, shaggy, a bad history and no future,” so they whisper to each other: “will you look at that?” and when it’s time to go: snubbed, or a disdainful “We really think you belong somewhere else.”

And how does Jesus react to this sort of behavior: “Sorrow awaits you, hypocrites.”

Woe 2: Teachers of Religious Law and you Pharisees: sorrow awaits you: hypocrites! Crossing land and sea, seeking one ‘convert’ only to turn that person ‘double time over’ a child of hell, even more-so than yourselves are.

Now: Missionaries, spreading the word, across land and over the sea to distant shores; finding a convert...and then instilling a ‘hell has no fury like heaven scorned’ mentality...and the convert ends up backing away, no desire to follow something that is shoved down their throat and to be told who you are, how you pray or relate to a Supreme Being doesn’t matter, what matters is the Laws of Abraham and Moses; only this matters, the rest of the world faiths are wrong; a Native American was perceived as being soul-less and unspiritual, misguided, and a savage, the only good red-man was a dead one. When sent to school, they were harshly punished if found speaking in their heathen native tongue; forced to take on white man’s civilized ways, belittled, stripped of their identity, yet never to be accepted by the white man’s establishment. An outsider, a man or woman with nothing left, no dignity, no identity, no homeland, no way of life, not accepted by their own people because they dressed and were taught the ways of the white man, but never to be accepted by those who claimed this was the way they should be, because of their race, considered beneath them, therefore contemptible...kept down, even to this year of 2012, herded on reservations in the 1800s, which were picked because the white man didn’t see that land as worthy; not until gold was found in the Black Hills, and then forget any treaties; or forests that loggers wanted, or for other reasons; just how can they screw the Indian out of what is theirs?

And how does Jesus react to this sort of behavior: “Sorrow awaits you, hypocrites.”

Woe 3: Blind guides, what sorrows await you! Saying it means nothing to swear by God’s Temple, but finding it binding to swear by the gold in the Temple. Blind Fools! Which is more important- the gold or the Temple that makes the gold sacred? But more, you say to swear by the altar is not binding, but to swear by the gift on the altar is binding. How blind can you be? Which is most important: the gift on the altar or the altar that makes it sacred? Gold or gifts made as sacrifices for atonement were only as good as the heart and determination for purity behind it. But the altar was sacred and close to God and part of the Temple; it wasn’t to be defiled. The Pharisees worshipped at the Temple, carried on in manners they believed right by the fact they were followers of the Law. Yet they chose to declare gold and gifts of a trivial kind as binding but not as truly sacred and their oath-binding was loose where they wanted to be lax but tight in other ways, making it rigid and unforgiving, judgmental and self-righteous.

Now: Gifts of gold or other riches, in a church of fine esteem, matters more than the alter that is for the humble hearted, those with a sincerity to improve on their attitude and life style. Outwardly, making like there is a love of God’s Temple but inwardly hating the following a straight line with no desire for effluent ways, not wanting to be self-sacrificing and kind, desiring nothing in return; “oh no, that so and so curse them into the ground for not saying thank you or realizing how much they owe me for what I did for them”; forgetting it is not for man to claim any good that befalls another, except to say I was an instrument in God’s plan; all glory goes to God.

And how does Jesus react to this sort of behavior: “Sorrow awaits you, hypocrites.”

Woe 4: Teachers of Religious Law and you Pharisees: sorrow awaits you: hypocrites! Tithing is given to careful attention to the tiniest herb garden’s income, oh, you must reap from it; but there is far more important matters and these you ignore: fair justice, gentle mercy, and faith in God. You should tithe, yes, but don’t be consumed by it, forgetting all else. Blind guides, straining your water to free it of gnats/mosquitoes’ larvae...but instead, your greed assists in you swallowing a camel/bloated ego.

Now: Ah yes, that greed of the material verses spiritual worth; so many in this world worship money and call it their god, literally, I mean this, not just figuratively. They will go to the biggest church because the wealth oozes out of pores and the fact is, you won’t find poor folks there, appeals to their ego’s idea of being grand, important and famous, and better than others; they’ll tithe richly and then write it off for tax-breaks. Whatever they do of a Christian generous nature is not from an honest heart and desire to help another but to make an appearance of ‘giving to others in need’ when in truth they would spit on a homeless man and curse him for being worthless and shouldn’t be allowed to breath, lower than rats.

And how does Jesus react to this sort of behavior: “Sorrow awaits you, hypocrites.”

Woe 5: Teachers of Religious Law and you Pharisees: sorrow awaits you: hypocrites! Attentive at keeping the outside of your cup and saucer clean, but neglecting your inner self, filling it with filthy thoughts and yearning for carnal lusts and worse: full of greed and indulgence of your most base desire. Appearing to be clean, showing others outward restraint and an appearance of having no interest in carnal matters, but in secret, having minds most foul, soaked in greedy self-indulgence.

Now: Better check that closet for those hidden lies; the bodies under the patio stones, that foreign bank account where you socked all your cash so you wouldn’t be taxed for it; the trunk of your Mercedes Benz or BMW or Cadillac Town-car for the rest of the secrets you’ve hidden from everyone; man, that is, but not from God; he knows all.

And how does Jesus react to this sort of behavior: “Sorrow awaits you, hypocrites.”

Woe 6: Teachers of Religious Law and you Pharisees: sorrow awaits you, hypocrites! Walking white-washed tombs, this is your aspect to any who looks at you, appearing a façade of perfection and purity, beautiful to behold, but within a wasteland of dead bones reaching to the horizon, each reeking of rot; even the buzzards want not and turn away. Scrupulous law-keepers, righteous in your own dust filled minds. Skeletons in the cobwebbery of the darkest corner of the castle dungeon, torturous writhing mask of ‘I am so right.’ Wickedness is the name of your bed.

Now: Putting on a front for caring about the ancestors of yore; and especially for Jesus... you stand on stages, acting out how good you are; admitting to sins that have been patterned for your sinner turned saint appearance; big show, you of multiple faces, repeating a story with facts but some are evasive or straight out lies contrived to suit your needs; your real aim, besides being sanctimonious is that gated mansion, kids in colleges, wealth pouring in every week in the thousands because your cornerstone is a place attractive to thousands, oh charismatic and cunning, even funny, able to play on the emotions of the audience; is this the preacher or disciple Jesus called to walk in his footsteps? He warned of false prophets. 

And how does Jesus react to this sort of behavior: “Sorrow awaits you, hypocrites.”

Woe 7: Teachers of Religious Law and you Pharisees: sorrow awaits you: hypocrites! Building tombs for the Prophets even though your ancestors killed them, decorating the monuments of the Godly people your ancestors spat on and stoned to death. Saying, ‘oh had you been in that time, you would never have joined in that reviling hatred.’ Testament to the fact you are your grandfather’s children. Like begets like. Go ahead, you snakes and vipers, carry on what your forefathers started. Just how will you escape the Judgment of Hell? Many godly people’s blood will be on your hands, and I tell you the truth, this judgment belongs to this very generation for killing prophets and God’s Messengers, yours will be a place of desolation and I tell you this, you will not see me again until you say, “Blessings on the one who comes in the name of the Lord.”

Now: Snakes and vipers, Jesus called you well, he knows every heart and thought; he will not be deceived even if you fool yourself. 

And how does Jesus react to this sort of behavior: “Sorrow awaits you, hypocrites.”

Jerriann Wayahowl, 9-18-2012

Memorandum to the Tragedy of 9/11

I first wrote this on 9/11/2009, how it had been  8 years previous. But now it is 2012, and that day has come again: this still holds a strong truth, and I decided to post it once again.

About this time, I was watching the attack on TV of the twin towers, and seeing that horrific and devastating fall of the twin towers; which truly marked a moment in time when trust in others was breeched, and our ability to innocently accept others, without suspicion, changed forever.

That terrorist act made everyone suspect, from there on; not just at airports and immigration portals, but right out on the streets of USA; and Homeland Security was formed, which I know is meant to be for everyone’s safety, but which is more like having Big Brother able to say you are a terrorist for the tiniest of reasons.

No longer is a person a simple citizen, and yes, I mean people born and raised in USA, and their parents and grandparents before them; every person is treated like a possible terrorist, even the 90 year old lady or the pregnant lady or the 2 year old in her husband’s lap, and most certainly, the husband, and more so, if they have a foreign sounding name or look like they are of another ethnic  minority/race; even though, this is a land of many peoples, and not a land of few, or a land of the white.

Here are found people from all over the world, and some have been here for generations, even if they are of Asian or Eastern stock, or European or African; many have been born here, and so, many are as much American as they can be. 9-11-2001: the wake-up call.

Give silent respect to those who died; yes, but also pray that those who survive are not mistreated or subjugated to atrocities in the name of justice. So be it.

What do they call America? Land of the Free; Land of Equal Opportunity, where anyone can become a millionaire; Land of the Brave; Land of Diversity; Land of Dreams; Land where nothing is as it seems.

America has earned some other names, not so nice. Land of Deceit; Land of Warmongers; Land of Liars; Land of Two-faces. Where is the Land of Friendship? Where is the Land of Peace and Good Will toward All Men? Where is The LAND OF FREEDOM, for that Land doesn't exist since 9/11/2001; Oh My God, what has happened to Turtle Island?

Heavy questions and hard ones to answer, but more is how to rectify the wrong? The government is going about it wrong, and they are sinking this land of the turtle a little deeper with each passing day, and though turtles can swim, it is a land creature and can drown, if stayed submerged too long, mired in the sludge of this foul result brought about by retaliation of this nation against other nations, bringing war upon others, for views based on religious extremists who go against their own moral code of “thou shalt not kill” to attack  the innocent, and doing so without concern for age, race, gender or religion, indiscriminate murder/suicide for preconceived glorification in the hereafter?

Creator wants no acts of murder and will not condone it; they follow the mindset of madmen and deceive only themselves. But, too, so do these Ones in power: the Bush Administration, and now the Obama Administration.

Why do they refuse to administer to the nation in need, and see that the people have the health care, the educational needs, security of home and job, and seek peace between the peoples, within our borders and also amicable relations with other nations, and desist with this war policy; we should seek peace, at all costs.

Oh, the turtle’s heart bleeds and her eyes weep copious tears, a flood of tears, for she fears a trap she will not kick free of…she is not free, tangled in oil-slicked coils of so-called democracy? It is hypocrisy, this Government we live under. We, the people of this nation, know it better than any other, what is happening to sisters and brothers of this once great land.

Who knows all of this better than the Red Man, the Indigenous People who have suffered from the start, once the Europeans moved in and took over the land, claiming it,  buying and selling it, raping it, and otherwise, defiling it. The Natives understood that one can not own the earth; it owns us; from dust we come; to dust we do return; and Spirit returns to Creator.

What Jesus’ Last Hours Were Like

High on that hill of Golgotha, on Calvary,

Built on the garbage dump of the city,

The Christ, Savior of Sinners, everywhere,

Hung upon the cross.

Between two sinners, guilty

Of their crimes, Jesus wept.

One mocked him, saying, “Save yourself and us, too!

Where is that band

Of angels, son of Man?”

The other one told that one off, and said,

“This man has done no wrong.

He has chosen to die, so we all could live.

Soon, to go to heaven, away

With the wind, he will be swept;

So bother him not; just leave him alone;

I believe in him.”

Jesus had been put on trial,

After being betrayed

By one of his own disciples;

He had been ridiculed and

Beaten by a cat of nine tails or a scourge;

Thirty nine bloody , fiery stripes he bore;

Yes, for us, the straps of that beating, he gladly wore.

Bleeding, dirty, spat on and cursed by others,

By members of his own people, the Jews,

They turned away

And refused to accept him as the Messiah;

Never once did he grumble or say ‘please, no more’

He said instead; “Father, do as you will.

I am yours; I know sin is real,

And it takes a greater sacrifice

To give solace to the hopeless.”

As the crowds gathered around,

Jesus saw his mother on the ground,

And John the disciple stood beside her.

He called out to John, “She is your mother”

And ever after she lived in the house of John the disciple.

But as the hour grew later into the afternoon

He would hang there for us all, taking on our sins, he’d die,

And then his body; they would take it down.

A darkness gathered crouching over all, for the time

Was close upon the son of man;

Wind blew and the lightning flashed.

Night fell heavy in the afternoon.

Soldiers had taken his clothes; they had drawn lots.

Another had given him sour wine or vinegar for his drink.

Not a bit of mercy given him; not a bit of rest was his to wink.

They pierced his sides and let his holy blood flow.

They had mocked and placed a crown of thorns; oh woe.

People held their noses and carried on about the ‘ungodly stink;’

It hung in the air; a miasma of the worst smells sins can reek;

Oh, the ones who hated him, they looked on him with fear; this meek,

Mild, humble, man of peace whose one unshakable faith was his strength:

“No man shall see the Father, except he comes through me.”

In the last hour, Jesus called out, “Father, I am ready; call unto me.”

Even then, the mockers cried out, “No other has smelled so foul;

How is this a man of God? What a stink; he stinks with such horrid body odor;

Even the leper, whom this man healed, never smelled so bad as this!”

Staring at the man on the cross; dirty, bloody, beaten and abused;

His bladder and bowels had emptied their contents, soiling his bare legs;

They spat at him; they threw rocks, insulted him more,

Before they turned and walked away, and Jesus watched them go.

He said, “Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do.”

On the ninth hour, the breath went out of Jesus,

And an ABSOLUTE darkness fell over the land.

He died to save us all; yes, every last one of us he offered his hand.

An earthquake split wide the rocks on the hillside cemetery.

God changed the face of the Earth for a short time.

From the cemetery the dead awoke, and

The saints walked home to their families.

A rich man agreed that Jesus would be buried in his tomb;

His body was taken down and washed and bound with the shroud;

And to the tomb it was moved as quietly as it could be done.

It was on a Friday; would he rise again the third day?

His betrayer, having remorse, tried to give back the 30 pieces of silver;

But the men would not hear of it and distraught Judas went away.

He had thrown down the blood money earned with a kiss;

And hearing the fate of Jesus, Judas killed himself, upon a Judas tree.

The money, as the prophets said long before,

Was used to make a potter’s field

For those who had nothing; a sign that

For all, one day, Jesus would yield

A place to be buried to those who had nothing.

Giving them a place to rest until the call to rise again would come,

When Gabriel would blow his horn on Judgment day

Jesus rose three days later, yes, I believe.

The first he met was Mary Magdalene,

And he forbade her to touch him; for he

Had not yet been to the Father;

He was still unclean from the days in the underworld;

Some call it purgatory; she must not touch him.

Did she hold her nose? For her lord gave off a mighty stink;

Not just of the grave but the lingering sins of the world,

Which his resurrection put to an end, and life regained its sweetness.

Not to say he was corrupt; his body was whole;

But he had been to the land of the dead

And he surfaced as a victor over death.

To the disciples remaining,

He showed the nail holes in his feet and in his hands.

He told them that he died so he could save man.

One disciple, Thomas, had to be given proof

that it was Jesus, their master and teacher.

“Thomas, do you not know your Lord?

It is I who stands before you.”

Holding out his scarred hands

Thomas knew it was true;

“The lord Jesus had risen!”

Soon he would go to Heaven to be

With his Father;

For his sacrifice to conquer sin

Has been filled;

And many centuries have passed by.

Two thousand years have gone by,

And I know, in my heart, that Jesus is still here.

Here, we find, all these many years later,

The Lord is our Savior.

You know he is there.

Open your heart and

Let him be the best friend you’ll ever have.

But as you go through your days

Remember all the ways,

Acknowledging Jesus Christ is the only way

You will see Heaven.

Think of the love for us Jesus has, he loves us;

He knew us every one; and knew it must be

 And he felt it was worth

All the suffering; Jesus is the Shepherd and he loves his flock.

Yes, he suffered for us, and aren’t you glad he did?

Think of being in a place of great burdens and facing the ultimate sacrifice.

Jesus did it; he gave his life for us sinners;

He loved us, and came down from on high to walk among us.

Now if someone had looked down on you, and said something hurtful,

If they claim to be Christian they fool only their selves;

For Christ became like one of us, yet he was innocent;

He was the lamb of God and for Adam’s children he gave his life.

Forget the way people treat you;

Live the Golden Rule; look around

And spread that big smile.

And if you find in your life

Someone who claims to be Christian,

But is picky and looks down their nose at you or others;

Someone who will fuss about

Something like someone's beard or maybe

A so called body odor, think back to the reality

Of the Lord’s last hours;

And if you think you smell roses, think again.

Don’t put down anyone else,

For there are times in life we all smell stinky.

We will all answer for our sins

When this World ends;

Every man, woman or child;

So keep your thoughts and opinions to yourself.

Everyone needs to remember not to put on airs,

And let on they are any better

Than another person, for whatever the reason,

Because the Lord of Lords loves us all the same.

So remember that when you pray in Jesus’ name,

Jesus in this day and time would be wearing jeans,

Have long hair, and a beard,

He might be shoeless; he might not have a dollar to his name.

Remember man’s wealth never meant anything to him.

Would you treat him differently

Or would you treat him the same?

He might look like a bum

But outward appearance will not stop Jesus from his path.

Don’t judge by the looks,

For you can't make one hair white or black

Mean anything more special to Jesus.

Don't make insults to others.

All of us should be sisters and brothers.

If you turn around and sneer at another,

Just because you think someone is less than they really are,

That is not Christ like behavior to act petty.

Jesus is the one who carries the scars.

If you cut down someone, belittling them,

Jesus is upset by your false heartedness

Be a good person; at least try your best.

And remember what it was like for Jesus

Those final hours of his life

He went through pain unimaginable

It wasn't pretty

And also keep in mind, that night

He died to put our sins right.

He gives us a hope for eternal life.

He made everything right.

Your sins are forgiven when

You are washed in the blood of Jesus.

With Jesus in your life,

It is easier to sleep at night.

Yes, be born again in water and of Spirit.

When you are saved, you will do no petty,

Backstabbing acts of jealousy again.

That is an act of evil; not of Jesus;

His act is one of unconditional love.

The time for setting your life right is now;

If you want to go to heaven above,

Get on your knees and accept Jesus in your life.

and for the rest of your life,

Live it right, live it for Jesus.

Jerriann Law and JD Couch, 8-30-2012