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Christmas the Birthday of the Lord πŸ‘‘

T’was the night before Christmas

God glanced over the earth

He looked to and fro, all over it’s girth

They missed it again he said with a sigh

A heavy heart and a tear in his heart ❀️

I gave them my Son

My Greatest Gift πŸ’”

So they could be free

My Greatest GiftπŸ’”

To the fro me.

And they traded me in for a man in red πŸŽ…

A little tree too πŸ‘Ό

And a horse drawn sled πŸ›·

How do I save them

And make them see

My love ❀️ is complete

My Grace is Free

How do I help them

When all they know is a talking snowman β˜ƒοΈ

And a box πŸ“¦ with a bow

Maybe next year, they will stop and see

The Greatest Gift

Is a little πŸ§’ Child 🚼 from me πŸ‘Ό

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The Bombing of Pearl Habour ~ by The Mystic Poet in Memory of Grand Pappa John πŸ™‡

“THE DIVER, THE SURVIVOR.” a poem December 6, 2019 (Friday) for: PEARL HARBOR DAY (Saturday) a.k.a.: “Papa John Will Always Be There.”

Dear Friends:

Remember (my) Good Old Grampa? PAPA JOHN on (my) Mother’s side?

Who was A NAVY MAN in World War II,

 I think Papa John might have had some American Indian blood in him.  He did not talk a lot, but liked listening to his wife's friends [Mama Jean was a piano teacher and, for many years, the President of The Montana Piano Teachers' Association] who might come by, and he would often listen to them for long periods and then remark: "You don't say!"

     He had long legs, and, according to my Dad, one weekend, when Papa John was about 55 years old, there was a race in the town he lived in [in Montana].  There were a number of participants and he was much older than, perhaps, everybody else, but, despite that, he almost won.  A young man, perhaps a former college sprinter, won the event, but Papa John, with his long, churning legs, came in a close second.

        He liked to fix things and had a big workshop in the basement, where he would show me how to fix lawn mowers and other gadgets.

             Papa John, although he ate turkey or fish on occasion, preferred not to eat very much meat  because he did not like the thought of the suffering the creature would have to go through to provide him dinner.  He taught school in "a one room school house" and often suggested they his students be kind to animals, who have feelings too.  He was very upset one day when he caught some boys burning ants to death with a magnifying glass.  He reminded them that, even though the ants are very small, they can feel pain too.

                  He died one night in his sleep, down in the basement, alone in his room, while I was away;  I imagine, perhaps, he died with memories of the friends he had when he was in The Navy.

                         That was Papa John.   He was quite the Grampa.  Sigh!

                                 J   🐦 Jay

THERE at Pearl HarborOnDecember7 (1941)HEdidABIDE.

HE WAS THERE and he tells us all that ON THAT DAY BOMBS DROPPED,

and SHIPS WERE SUNK and MEN WERE KILLED and

Then, “THEY” swam and mopped.

“THEY,” who were THE MEN LIKE HIM “survivors,” who DOVE IN TO THE SEA,

And FISHED OUT BODIES OF DEAD FRIENDS;

December 7th (1941) it would be.

HE WAS THERE in (19) ’41 WHEN BLOOD WAS EVERYWHERE,

And smoke and friends that HE FISHED OUT;

Yes, Grampa got to stare,

At such destruction and take it in,

And WITNESS THEN WHAT WE’RE TOLD NOW HAS BEEN:

This EVIDENCE of humans fighting and showing how,

We can KILL and MAIM, and, even now,

In 2019 we can still look back?

(I remember) Papa John who lived in the basement in Helena, Montana,

Sleeping on his “rack,”

Who sometimes came upstairs and told his grandson ME,

(Back then THEY HAD NO TERM “P T S D.”)

He told me: “Men can be mean and men can sometimes do things,

That can kill and destroy and much suffering it brings,

SOME WISDOM even so to those,

Who have experienced such traumas; yet NOW I DOZE,

DOWN IN THE BASEMENT, AND I D I V E INTO BAD DREAMS.

There were friends I LOVED there, and each memory ‘streams,’

To haunt every day yet show me THE WAY,

TO LOVE EVEN DEATH and HOLD PAIN AT BAY.”

fin β™₯

πŸ™‡πŸ™‡πŸ™‡πŸ™‡πŸ™‡πŸ™‡πŸ™‡πŸ™‡πŸ‡¦πŸ‡ΊπŸ‡¦πŸ‡ΊπŸ‡¦πŸ‡ΊπŸ‡¦πŸ‡ΊπŸ‡¦πŸ‡ΊπŸ‡¦πŸ‡ΊπŸ‡¦πŸ‡ΊπŸŒŽWe will never forget πŸ‡¦πŸ‡ΊπŸ‡¦πŸ‡Ί America saved Australia in Northern Australia πŸ‡¦πŸ‡Ί Thank the Lord πŸ‡¦πŸ‡Ί In Australia my family were rescued from Japanese Prison Camps. Aboriginal people and Europeans were slaughtered in Darwin by the Japnese Bombing of Northern Australia πŸ‡¦πŸ‡Ί our American Allies are still to this day Stationed on our Northern Borders of Australia πŸ‡¦πŸ‡Ί , unfortunately, today many young Australians do not know our Historical Pasts with America. I do because I’m the Last Standing Marshall of that very Old Generation. Aboriginal and Whites stood side by side with the Americans to fight for all lives in Ausralia πŸ‡¦πŸ‡ΊπŸ‡¦πŸ‡ΊπŸ‡¦πŸ‡ΊπŸ˜ŒπŸ˜ŒπŸ˜Œ

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Paradigm by Mystic Poet Laureate πŸ™ƒ

Paradigm is thought to mean ~ A paradigm is a person’s frame of reference. A person’s paradigm is how they see the world based on all the information that they have gathered and the beliefs that they possess. If the universe is analogized to a computer processor, a paradigm is like the operating system.Jan 2, 2017

geniustypes.com β€Ί principles β€Ί para…

Paradigms – Genius Types √ possibly this may give you a grasp ✊on the meaning of the Mystic Poetry and cryptic verse.

“APPROXIMATE.” a poem November 3, 2019 (Sunday)

AROUND HERE I think everything’s pretty much approximately presented,

Average and/or Extraordinary;

Ordinary and Circumvented.

Now, Approximate DOESN’T MEAN: Imperfect or NOT exact,

It’s just about THIS or THAT; it’s sort of “cracked,”

Which is, as Leonard Cohen says: “HOW THE LIGHT GETS IN.”

“Cracked” or “Lopsided” is HUMAN; you can call it “sin,”orTheWayThingsAre,

Which DOESN’T MEAN we CAN’T be a “star,”

And go aboutTheSpeedofLight.

Q: IS “APPROXIMATE” ALL RIGHT?

A: YES, IF YOU accept it as OK

A: NO, IF you want things some other way.

But THE LATEST PARADIGM still has one more step to go.

Moral: “The OLD PARADIGM, like the NEW (paradigm) is APPROXIMATE,

Don’tCha know?”

fin

All these Catalogues of the Poetry by The Mystic Poet have selected
Music included by Mystic. The lyrics are the woven threads of sound
To bring the meanings of the acronym, abbreviation,
into the words.
J. Jay Samuel Davis wears many caps of colour including
Musician
Artist
Graphics Artist
Poet Laureate
A Scholar and a Teacher
Humanitarian
Activist for Human Rights
Around and around the mulberry bush
Who knows when it will end
πŸ˜…πŸ€£πŸ˜‚

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I am Precious Big Poet Laureate ~ 😁

WISDOM

“THE ANNOYED.” a poem, a.k.a.: “For Those Ones Who REALLY Don’t Care For Me Much At All, Adieu.” December 8, 2019 (Sunday)

I’M AN ANNOYANCE TO MYSELF AT TIMES,

And, OF COURSE, to others, especially those who don’t like my rhymes,

BUT I find in life, there are “special friends,” truly annoyed,

By my existence. So, why shouldn’t I avoid,

These excellent people? because MY LITTLE LIFE,

IS QUITE SUFFICIENT WITHOUT THEIR STRIFE.

I’m SIMPLY moving through this realm;

IF thereAreSomeTRULYupsetWithMoi, well, I could tell’EM: (pause)

(Or, maybe not. Yeah, I think perhaps NOT),

I WILL JUST IGNORE THEIR FACES (so) “HOT.”

I do the best I THINK I can,

And, if it doth upset them, golly gee yeah huh. yeah, man,

I need NOT make an effort to,

EVER SEE THEM. (pause) They sortO’ “make me blue;”

They cause me, for instance, to avoid their stare,

And regarding their presence, (sorry, but) I really don’t care,

To have them around me. Bye, bye to those,

Who (maybe) think I need them around. I SUPPOSE,

SOME OF THEM MIGHT SAY: “What’s wrong?”

And I’ll say nothing and SING MY SONG,

ELSEWHERE. For their “display,

of facial attitude.” Perhaps (or perhaps not) they’ll “pay,”

TO (&perhaps they’ll breathe a sigh of relief) HAVE ME NEVER AT THEIR DOOR.

I need not see them any more.

fin β™₯

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rB7ONnfIjaI

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oKsxPW6i3pM

Limerick to THEM, dedicated to: especially Dr. A., Mr. T. & Miss R.

Some people don’t like me too much;

Well, that is their right, so my touch,

And My presenceI’llDeny;

Yes, I’m sure they won’t cry,

And I wish them the best “in the clutch.”

I’m Sorry πŸ’”

“I’M SORRY.” poem for: November 7, 2019 (Saturday)

Oh, (I think I have noticed some things regarding) Mr. Trump:

I’M SORRY; I think he’s hit “a bump,”

In The Proverbial ROAD OF LIFE;

I’m (truly) sorry, especially for His wife,

And His Kids may need a new role model.

I’m sorry if anybody in The Family starts “hitting the bottle,”

BUT, this might be a good time to (and, maybe, for everyone, for that matter)

Drink,

And, perhaps, for all of us to ponder the past and to think,

About THE BEST WAY to:

Restart,

Recover,

& Restore,

Some SELF CONFIDENCE and offer some apologies to SELF and All,

And, I think, even MORE,

May be needed, like:

Let’s all “search our souls,” and establish for ourselves,

TRULY WORTHY GOALS,

Like:

Forgiveness,

Humility and

Trying To Be NICE,

And NOT too cocky or condescending at ANY price.

Let’s all just say:

“I’M SORRY,”

Learn some lessons and

MOVE ON.

WE LOVE YOU, MR. PRESIDENT,

But to PRIDE you (and me) have been a pawn.

fin β™₯

Playlist our gift to you ❀️❀️

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The Train of Life ~

THE TRAIN:

At birth, we boarded the train and met our parents, and we believe they will always travel by our side. As time goes by, other people will board the train; and they will be significant i.e. our siblings, friends, children, and even the love of your life. However, at some station our parents will step down from the train, leaving us on this journey alone. Others will step down over time and leave a permanent vacuum. Some, however, will go so unnoticed that we don’t realize they vacated their seats. This train ride will be full of joy, sorrow, fantasy, expectations, hellos, goodbyes, and farewells. Success consists of having a good relationship with all passengers requiring that we give the best of ourselves.
The mystery to everyone is: We do not know at which station we ourselves will step down. So, we must live in the best way, love, forgive, and offer the best of who we are. It is important to do this because when the time comes for us to step down and leave our seat empty we should leave behind beautiful memories for those who will continue to travel on the train of life.

I wish you all a joyful journey ~PEACE BE WITH YOU πŸ’™πŸ’™πŸ’™

Holiday Season ❄️

“HOLIDAY SEASON UPS AND DOWNS.” a poem December 7, 2019.



“Thanksgiving Day” was the time for family and friends,

Eating and giving thanks for MANY BLESSINGS;

Yet, it ends? For us in The U. S.,

During our “Pearl Harbor Day,”

When we remember “The [Day of] Infamy,” and we bow to pray,

Saddened by the loss of life; yet, it was NOT in vain.

“Thanks to sacrifice,

There is gain,”

For, we grieve during this time, but are TRULY “in The Season,

Of Hope and Love,” for “Christ is The Reason,”

To be, once more, filled with LOVE and thanks.

The holidays, like seasons, deliver BOTH:

“JOY”

& “ANGST.”

We are joyful, filled with mirth; then, we are sad;

Holidays come and go.

Perhaps, it’s not so bad,

To realize that holidays, like seasons, like life,

Bring happiness, but also can bring much strife,

And, whatever the conditions might be today,

Figure [that] “tomorrow” will [also come to] nullify

WHATEVER,

But (pause) IT WILL N O T STAY.

So, get ready for sunshiny weather, with birds singing in the trees,

Followed by dark clouds and storms. We are “blowing in the breeze,”

Of conditioned existence, and these poems, of course, focus on that fact,

AND (Moral) “[That] This dream is very variable, so exercise ‘tact;’

Be sensitive and understand that the currents of existence are fickle;

However, life will go on.”

I’ll bet you a nickel.

fin β™₯

Peace πŸŽ„πŸŒ 

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Thought-full 🌼🌼🌼

“FOR YOU.” a poem for you, a.k.a.: “Have Yourself Your Own Ball.” Dec. 7, 2019 (Saturday)

You did it;

You did it;

YOU DID IT FOR YOU.

“But no one else liked it.”

OK, but WHY FEEL BLUE?

You did it ’cause you wanted to. Now, that reason I like,

Even IF everybody else overlooks it, just get on your bike,

And peddle ’cause it feels good;

Sure, go to The Park,

And, if nobody else wants to go there,

Stay there until it’s dark,

But ONLY IF YOU WANT TO, even if everyone will hate,

Your “lousy” idea(s).

[IF you have GOT TO: Be your OWN “date.”]

IF YOU did it and you liked it and (especially) if it didn’t hurt no one,

Then “stick to your guns” and have you lots of fun,

Doing what YOU DID, ’cause you thought it would be cool,

EVEN IF NO ONE ELSE LIKES IT,

Well,

Have your “OWN SCHOOL,”

Your own “school of thought,”

With “A LIKE” of just ONE:

THAT’S YOU (that one “like”);

THAT’S ENOUGH;

Take your ball

And run.

fin β™₯



My Best Friend πŸ’•πŸ’•

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