“What Can I Do?” a poem

seeds
“What Can I Do”

As I sit and eat and look out at the world, from warfare, to welfare, to earthquakes, to riots, to the want and desire for peace.

There is within me a nagging, soul dragging possibility, or worrisome thought, that will not cease.

“What can I do?” this is the troubling thought, you see … I mean really… is saving everyone in this whole wide world really up to little old me? … Honestly? … How could something like that be?

After all, “What CAN I do?” … “What can I do?”… Really? … because I see within me the inability to erase the suffering in the world that I find…

“What can I do?” … “What can I do”… these are the only words bouncing around in my mind.

Small am I, not famous or even well-known. Tired am I, without finances or fortune enough for the trumpet I desire to blow. Despised am I, different, not well-fitting, not trusted because I refuse to follow greed’s bidding.

“What can I do? What can I do?” these are the words, every time.

If only my words mattered, if only they could captivate the world’s heart. I would type till my fingers bleed, as if each letter were a life-giving seed, if only my words when heard could change a single person’s heart… then perhaps from my head those worrisome words “What can I do” would part.

“What can I do?” … Well… I suppose this “desire” to help others I could share.

Perhaps, “What can I do?” is meant to be there.

Perhaps there is a reason, and although we are not yet in season, perhaps these words are a sign… a spark of the Divine… showing us that the desire to love alone is more than enough to save the world each and every time.

And so, my friends, “What Can I Do?” is something … I hope … you also find.

Jacob Israel​
(Please do subscribe, share, and download the Jacob Israel app, available everywhere, it’s all free. This is what I can do, and I pray you will help spread that message for me.)

Advertisements

OCCUPIED, OCCUPIED


OCCUPIED, OCCUPIED

They asked me, they asked me, what did I see, what will happen, please tell us more?

I could not explain how my thoughts were arranged, I could not tell them what would remain if things stayed the same. I could not say, who was to blame. Because I too am stuck, center square of this game. And for this the herald came.

“A double minded man is unstable in all his ways.” This the herald began to say. “Always fighting to have and fighting against having not. Greed and worry, those worms of furry, burrowing into their heads until their minds rot. Man against man, husband against wife, brother against brother, a fight’s what’s become of life, drowning in a sea of strife, pointing fingers pointing out those they declare to be naughty and those they declare nice.”

The herald rails, “Bring me to the gates of hell”, and that is when the great and mighty book fell.

The dust scattered as the great and mighty book appeared, the “nice” took hold first, they made sure the naughty were nowhere near. “The problem is not ours,” the nice declared, “It’s the poor, the sick, they lame, the colors, and the queers. We’ll create a god in our image, and then this god will become our greatest weapon, and will instill the greatest of fears. We’ll tell them the mighty book is ours, and it’s truth only we can hear.” And this is how it was, how it has been, the nice controlling the naughty for hundreds, if not thousands of years.

But the herald screamed, his voice carried into the great and noble sea, from the dead woods he was heard screaming, “The time is now, to breaks free. You’ve been blind long enough it’s time to see. Look at your chains, ignorance, pride, hate, arrogance, worry and fear, it’s time to see those chains clear. A clever serpent your ignorance has reared. And so the nice became the naughty’s enemy, they were tired of being fired, and from their traditions, conditions and warnings they had listened to for too many years, worrying if they did not follow they would lose the eternal life they held dear, away from all of this the naughties steered.

“Occupied, occupied,” the herald cries, “Occupied, occupied my people are, by hateful lies. Occupied, occupied, to busy to see, what is keeping them from being free. Faith in paper idols, in men of golden suit. Occupied, occupied, the “nice” rape them, they murder, they intimidate, they steal and they loot. Pointing each other in opposing directions, demanding they listen or receive their correction, promising riches if they stand at attention.”

Then the book was opened, words hidden beneath layers of filth and dirt. The herald held his hands up for the rain to do its work. Droplet after droplet, first separate and apart, rolling aimlessly toward each other like a blind man in the dark. The more that fell, the more could be seen. The droplets gathered together and made the mighty book clean. The naughty came together and finally understood what the great book means.

“Occupied, Occupied, we will no longer be,” they screamed. “You made the great book dirty but we have made it clean.”

The naughty then became the nice, and the nice they called the naughty. They said, we will do things different, we won’t be like the naughty, who once was called nice. We will be a new generation one that takes what we deserve, a new generation of nice. You can be with us, if you give us, what we deserve, we demand equal rights. But both the naughty and nice could not truly see the great book in its true light.

The great book then became a burden, even though it was light. They thought they were different, they certainly had different sight. But they only chose to read the great book in the dark of night.

“Occupied, Occupied,” the herald gave a shout. “Occupied, Occupied, having a better answer is not what the great book is about.” The herald took the book away, as the naughty and the nice began to say, “White is Black, Black is white, there is no gray!”

The trash piled high on either side. They began to beat each other, each with their bats of pride. This is when the herald cried.

“Occupied, occupied, this will you both remain to be. Prisoners of paper which reads in God we trust and promises liberty. Occupied, occupied, for your unjust cause, fighting to control a system of corruption that was only built to fall. I see murder in the streets and cries of blood. I see armies descending on the nice and naughties like the waters of a flood. I see fire, and crying, I see hurt and great pain. Why are you fighting for a corrupt system that will only bring you the same. You’ve put your faith in democracy, and have believed corruptions spin. Battles and rattles in the sewers of ignorance, this is your sin. Occupied, Occupied, soon marshal law, earthquakes, and hurricanes knocking on everyone’s door. Cradled in the dead arms of yet another world war.”

But no one listened, no one cared what the warnings were for. They were occupied, occupied, and this is why, when they asked me, I could not tell them more.

Jacob
http://www.JacobIsrael.org
“The Truth Will Change You”

“The Smiles, The Smiles” a poem


“THE SMILES, THE SMILES”

The smiles, the smiles, what do they hide?
A kind heart twisted from the pain inside?
A tortured soul pretending everything is all right?
Or a beautiful spirit pricked by the thorns in ones side?

The smiles the smiles, what are they for?
A desperate soul longing for more?
A million cares, worries, fears, insecurities one can’t ignore.

The smiles, the smiles where have they gone,
The desperate ones fighting to break free from the stranglehold that has held us for too long.
Wanting to know right from wrong but never feeling one belongs.

The smiles, the smiles, of those around so hard this day to be found.
One day you are up the next you are down.
Why, oh why does our pain continually come around?

The smiles, the smiles no longer able to fake.
The unbearable pain that so many willingly take.
The greed of others, their judgment and hate, rain down filling sorrows lake.

The smiles, the smiles do we remember what a true one feels like. Have we forgotten how to find them, and if so do we know why? Where have the days gone when life was more about living than fighting to find life?
When will we no longer need to avoid fears knife?

The smiles, the smiles, can we find again the joy we’ve left behind. Will we sell, heartaches well, the one we continue to fill with the swill of the daily grind?
Will we stand against pressures hand to find the land where the smiles, the smiles always arrive on time?

The smiles, the smiles they long to be free, It isn’t dificult to find your smile this you will soon see.
The time is now to let things be what they be, the trappings of this world are the lies that have tricked you and me.
The frowns of our downs will be swallowed by the smiles victory.

The smiles, the smiles will stretch to the corners of our face.
The smiles, the smiles oh yes, fear, pain, and worry they will erase.
The smiles, the smiles, let them rise and you will finish this race. The smiles, the smiles sure they have been gone for awhile, but now we need to put them back in their place.

So smile my friend, smile even if you are facing the end, smile when you want to cry, smile when you would rather die, smile when everything is too hard, smile when you feel like you have gone too far, been too marred, too scarred, smile my friend even when you don’t want to. Smile this is what you must do. For in the smile is the key to peace that has been avoiding you. In the smile is the end of the lies you have believed, in the smile you will find the truth.

Because the smiles, the smiles are your escape, so let your smile overtake this moment, and don’t forget to hold it. Keep that smile on your face until know it, until you can show it, until you feel it, until the smiles, the smiles deliver you and you know it.

Keep smiling everyone, everything is going to be okay, Jacob

THIS IS FOR YOU WHO IS ME



THIS IS FOR YOU WHO IS ME

This if for you, the one I love, the one from above, who fell into hell and forget all was well.

I know now it’s hard to tell, as tears begin to swell, in this dark place you dwell.

But there’s a light from within, flip the switch and you’ll begin to see in this darkness that you’re living was your only sin.

I know your crying, so many lying, many in the place I used to be. But now I’m free to come and be who you need me to be. An extension of you, you see. Not different, not separate, not her or him, not he or she. There is only you in me.

Me in you, that is true. But there is nothing you can do to change, rearrange, or undo the hard times that have come upon you.

No magic ceremony, no mystical names can be shouted or touted, to teach you the lie from the truth. And all I can do is hope I’m getting through with these lines I’m now writing to you.

Thoughts, thoughts, swelling around, hard to track down the smile hidden beneath so many frowns.

“You’re no good”, “You’ll never ahead”, “You’re a loser, you’re better off dead”, “I’ll never know peace, I’ll always be broke.” Can’t you see these are the lies on which you choke.

You are your words, your words are you. You can be what you want be, you can do what you want to do. But you don’t believe that is true. You forgot who you are, my son, my daughter, I know it’s hard when you exist in a country that is far.

This place has erased your memory of me, which is really you, and you which is really me. This place has chased away your peace. This place where you find yourself to be, you molded and formed and created, you see.

“I knew that would happen”, “I knew I wouldn’t get that job”, “If I had a gun a bank I should rob”, “She left me, she’ll get hers, I’ll track her down and make her hurt.”, “He cheated, he lied, now he’s going to cry, I’ll show him how he hurt me, when I take my life.”

My child can’t you see, these words are not coming from you, who is me. You’ve believed you are something that you are not meant to be. You are gods, you see, just like me, who is you, who is me.

Life and death is in the power of the mind and tongue, fears and tears ignorantly forced on the young. Cursed from birth, creating the sad image of what you’ve become.

What happened to your life, my daughter, my son? What happened to rolling down a hill to just have fun, to holding hands, living life without a plan, laughing until your belly hurt? But now it’s only work, work, work, at a place that only brings you heartache and hurt. You can’t find the time to see that your job is but a sign of where you are in your life. Do you really believe there is no reason or rhyme, yet you choose to lose when victory in everything has been yours all the time.

My child, my son, my daughter, my sad friend, in the end, you’ll see, that you’re me, and I am you, together we are one and what you do to others, and what you have done, is the reason you have begun to crawl, and are too tired to walk, and because you feint when you begin to run.

Don’t live in the illusion, in the negative projection of what you have believed yourself to be. When in fact you are me, can’t you see? Close your eyes, look inside, that is where I hide, I, your true life.

The beginning and end, my son, my daughter, my friend, that is who you are in your country that is far. And when you wake up, after your hell shakes up the spirit within your mind. You’ll be still, sitting on a high hill, with the sun shining like it’s never shined before. And you’ll ponder the words, I’ve asked you to ponder before, the words you forgot were words that were actually yours.

You’ll say to yourself, after climbing out of hell, “I am Lord, I know this now because I am still.”

Peace, be encouraged, “all things are possible to those that believe.”

Jacob
http://www.jacobisrael.org

BREATHE AND PUSH – A POEM


Breathe and Push

Change was taking place, something bright, something new.
A life was taking shape, but what is was, no one knew.

No one expected, no one prepared, just another day in another life.
Business as usual it seemed, until something wasn’t right.

Sickness in the morning, a great hunger in the afternoon,
A change was taking place, that much, to her, unfortunately was true.

“What is going on with me? Why do I look and feel this way?”
“Life was better before this happened,” that, she would always say.

“I’m tired, I’m angry, my feet and back hurt too.”
“I can’t sleep, I’m always moody and I don’t know what to do.”
“When will this nightmare end? Please God tell me, what did I ever do to you?”

“I’m not a bad person, so why should I suffer this way?”
“The only advice I seem to hear, is breathe and push when pain attacks my back and legs.”

“I do not want this, I would rather die than live like this another day.”
“Why should I push and prepare myself for anything that makes me feel this way?”

“I can’t take it! I hate it! So one kill me, I mean it, the pain is too great!”
“Nothing is worth this torture I feel, this is all a big mistake!”

Then, in one breath, in one push, in one moment in time.
The pain was gone, the fight was over and then a babies cry.

“Oh my God, she’s so beautiful,” the mother said with grateful tears in her eyes.
She couldn’t believe that after all that pain everything finally felt right.
Wrapped in a blanket, the baby slept as the Mother held her tight.
Her past forgotten, her anger gone, replaced by the joy and hope of having a new life.

We all go through difficult times. We all feel like our suffering will never end. We all wonder why it is we hurt the way we do. But when the pains of life come and you feel like you want to give up, just remember, you never know what may be waiting for you on the other side if you don’t. So, hold on, take a breath, and push through. If you do this, you may just find that your present suffering is nothing compared to what God is about to reveal in you.

Jacob