That NEW Adage

A pressure-relief valve about God, and just about everything else.

God is the Fireman

God is the fireman.

We just put the ladder against the wall.

In other words, we don’t save anyone, not even ourselves. God does.

What we do is provide the tools — the hands and feet. 

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February 26, 2008 Posted by | Adage, Christianity, Eternal Security, Faith, God, Jesus, Metaphor, Proverbs, Redemption, Salvation | Leave a comment

Bows of Holly

Here is a poem I wrote a few years ago. In light of current occurrences, I thought it apropos… You’ll get it before it ends. Once again, it has meter and rhyme — something that is not entirely in vogue. 

She’s the shining star we all desire

That none can ever rule

Your heart burns for her like a fire

But you are just her tool

She’s the old man’s broken dream

And yet the young boy’s folly

Slicker than a bowl of steam

People call her “Holly”

The face she wears is stunning, though

A most deceptive guise

Her whim will bring you running, though

Her wiles confound the wise

Being seen with her will frame

The diffident secure

Her colder shoulder, though, will name

The confident demure

Morally, she knows no bounds

She’ll draw you to the pit

You marvel at the sights and sounds

And beg for one more “hit”

She’s a fickle paramour

Her lovers span the globe

Their broken hearts on every shore

Still blinded by the strobe

She takes them, chews them up, and spits

Them out like melon seeds

When wined and dined and danced, she quits

Them once they’ve met her needs

What makes a person while so vain,

So ceaselessly divine?

The prize, when won, soon soaks the brain

In salty pickle brine

It could be our necessity

For fortune and for glory

Perhaps we find it best to be

The center of the story

It seems that most would pawn the heart

For billing and a statue

And wouldn’t you tear your soul apart

To have the world look at you?

The masses court disaster for

A night in Babylon

(Of) Illusion she’s the master, for

You’ll wake and she’ll be gone

Your puerile fantasy becomes

A living, breathing hell

The ruling sounds are pounding drums,

And sorrow’s telling knell

You wonder if she really cared

Somewhere down deep within

But in the dark she only bared

A wicked, mordant grin

She prances with the attitude

Of one who knows she’s wanted

She peppers you with platitudes

Her skill is widely vaunted

She seems to prosper, seems to thrive

But most will never know

That Holly needs us to survive

She’ll never let it show

For if we turned our backs on her

She’d wither like a leaf

She hides it well, would much prefer

To revel in our grief

So lose you will on Beverly’s hill

Or dip where Sunset strips

Dance the dance and take your fill

Of Holly’s poison lips

The Siren’s not resisted, so

Don’t stray within her range

The melody is twisted, so

Will certainly derange

Who would grind your soul to powder

Crush you into dust?

Whose seductive song grows louder

Begging for your trust?

Who would rip your heart asunder

Meaning you no good?

(You) Know the answer, needn’t wonder

Surely — Holly would!

Copyright 2001, Derrick L. Williams

January 31, 2008 Posted by | Current Events, Entertainment, Hollywood, Metaphor, Morality, Movies, Poetry | 4 Comments

What Do You Get When You Cross an Apple With a Banana?

My needs are a red line extending from  me to God.

My wants are a yellow one.

My goal, my hope, is to live a mostly orange life.

December 23, 2007 Posted by | Christian Life, Christianity, Faith, God, Metaphor | 4 Comments

DADDY’S COAT

You cannot get into The Perfect Place with your own coat on.
There is an insignia missing from the chest that needs to be there in order to allow admittance.

Your FATHER’S coat, however, is perfect. It came to him at a high price, but it is yours for the asking. It may cause you some ridicule, for it is somewhat large and makes a bold statement. It is a LOUD shade of purple, with seven gold buttons, but it is the only cloak that will gain you entrance. It has the red patch that the doorman will recognize.

He won’t even look at your face, only the coat.
No matter what you say, you will not be able to get in on your own renown. It doesn’t matter how smooth you are, or how many people you call “friend.” It makes no difference how many people you were nice to. Your character won’t do it, nor will wearing a patch similar in appearance.
Your coat is a rag, your words are empty, your deeds are useless (however, you WILL get a good table once inside if you tell others about the coat).

Put on your Daddy’s coat .

June 30, 2007 Posted by | Christianity, Jesus, Metaphor, Redemption, Salvation | Leave a comment