Tag Archives: God

God Sees All

GOD SEES ALL
You are superstitious and you love the God you fear
Yet you lie in his face, every day, week, month and year
You tarnish the reputation of the good
You mould the people around you to believe
Yet all you do is lie to them, lie and lie and cheat
Yet those that are still in your life, believe your sodden lies
They help you tarnish that pure life
They won’t believe her cries of truth, they won’t believe her grief
But you’ve forgotten one thing my dear and that is
He that creates can see…
Oh he knows that you’ve done wrong and someday you will pay
For God doesn’t like liars, in his commandments he does say
Thou shalt not lie
But you do
And keep on doing so
Though you are Queen in this mortal life right now, when you are dead this won’t be so
No one believes that one of charity can be as evil as the devil
No one trusts the victim who says that she to you was servile
But he does
That’s all that counts
You can lie to mortals as much as you like, but in the end
God sees all, my friend

 

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Filed under Poems G - I

Hatred needs to die

Intolerance needs to be shaken out of this world
Hatred needs to die
People need to stop being perfect and living the perfect lies
There is no one more beautiful than another
There is no one too ugly to see
There is only in this world and the next – personality
Ugliness is an illusion, of which you must overcome
Don’t carry on in your life hating, because that is very dumb
Why do you think you are perfect?
Why do you think you are grand?
Why do you think another, needs a violent hand?
What makes you so righteous, what makes you so mean?
Has the deceiver taken charge of your mind? Is that why you are undisciplined?
You pray to God on Sundays, you promise him a pack of lies
You hate your fellow neighbour
You live your life in pride
You don’t see yourself in this manner
You don’t see your hypocrisy
But if there is hate in your heart for another
Then you are blind and you do not see
You are contributing to the evil of this world
And that is as evil as can be
So take the time to change your mind about your fellow man
Take the charge of your thoughts and be kind
Help others all you can
Live your life in a non-judgemental way and you will know that love is out there
And it is yours
Just be kind and open the door
Live in kindness – always

 

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Filed under Poems G - I

Follow the path of the dove

I am floundering in a world that’s diverse
But the diversity is a mess
People hate each other even at their best
No one realises that they are the same
No one sees the similarities
It’s insane
It hurts my brain
I know religions and I study them all well
I follow none, on me; they do not cast their spell
But many are enchanted by their promises and their hopes
But I do not follow them; I see it worse than dope
And many do attack me, for my flimsy and secular ways
They think I don’t believe in god and that he creates
But I do, but I won’t name god and I won’t give him a sex
I do not know if they are male or female and I don’t know if our behaviour they even check
Do they care about our ways, whether we are good or if we’re bad?
Do they think there’s a code to life we must follow to be glad?
I don’t know and neither do you, so why do you follow texts?
Texts that are written by other men to control their nations via pretext
Oh I see the spell that you are under
I see it all too clear
But to tell you all, you won’t have it
At me you will snipe and jeer
Yet you will kill for your god and your ways
Though your texts they tell you don’t
You do so anyway because…?
You know not do you? You don’t!
So tell me why you’re so enchanted, when religion causes war?
When your own texts tell you not to and you do so because the law…
Why do you stand for murder when your beliefs are threatened so?
Why do you argue with your brother because he is different? Lo…
Can’t you see the mess you’re in? Can’t you see the spell?
Can’t you see it’s not just you, but other beliefs as well?
It is better not to label oneself, for the good of all mankind
It is better to live together in peace, be good and happy and kind
Keep away from the toxic faiths that turn you from other men
Turn away from those paths and then…
You will see such happy times, of peace and love and compassion
You will know then what heaven is, if you forget your violent passions
You cannot be a good spirit, if your heart is full of hate
You need to think another way, do not be afraid to cross that gate
I think you will see it is a blessed life, when you turn your hate into love
I think this is what you need to do to follow the path of the dove

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Music & Art October 2016

I cannot work in silence when I am writing; I need music all the time.  For me, silence can be painful and headache inducing, as much as having television on in the background is also another disturbance and headache waiting to happen.

There are only two times when silence suits me without invoking a headache; when I am walking in nature, woodlands, pathways next to canals and fields etc., or being driven somewhere by car.  I dislike conversations in cars, I don’t like talking, and I like to zone out and forget I am in the car because I tend to feel sick when I acknowledge I am in a car.  I can imagine other places quite easily when I am not spoken to and in a car, this therefore makes it difficult for my body to realise it should be sick.  I also cannot read in a moving car, but I am perfectly relaxed at reading on trains and in busy cafes.

Travelling on buses and in cars makes me tired as well as daydreamy and any more than an hour in either and I am asleep, unless I am very tired or woke up early on the day, I tend not to sleep on trains, I love trains, I have a passion for them which has certainly rubbed off on my son Henry.

We take regular trips on trains just because; we are trying to get into a habit of going on the Severn Trent valley steam railway every couple of months.  I like to look at the scenery around there, the river Severn is the most beautiful river I’ve ever seen, which doesn’t say much because I’ve only ever seen three rivers personally up close.

Music therefore is a very important tool for my writing.  I like listening to instrumental music mostly, such as that found from Nox Arcana, Apocalyptica, classical music, but sometimes I will listen to lyrical music from all styles and eras, such as Patsy Cline’s Honky Tonk Merry-Go-Round, Movie Soundtracks, Kesha and many others. 

If it weren’t for music I don’t think I could be as emotional in my writing as I am with it. 

When I was little I had no imagination, seriously.  I didn’t find my imagination until I was around 9yrs old, I remember teachers from the couple of schools I was allowed to go to complaining that my stories were too realistic and that I lacked imagination.  I was browbeaten by them to develop an imagination and my mum helped with that – by the time she was finished with me my life was destined to be a writer from the age of 11.  It was decided for me and I have to admit I fell into it.

I am not saying for one moment that I don’t enjoy writing, I do.  But a writer’s life was chosen for me, not something I found I wanted, it was literally thrusted upon me.

When I look back through my therapy and my creative recoveries, I have noticed that when I was a child I had planned to be a mother or a teacher and that I had a huge interest in art and fashion.  I had quite vain thoughts as a child, but all of this was discouraged out of me and by the time I was 16 I had forgotten the art life I had wanted for myself and writing took its place.  I know writing is an art form in itself, but I meant painting, sculpture etc., all those other art forms were discouraged simply because my talent lies in writing, not drawing my mum often told me.

I was thrilled when my cousin Shane bought me oil paints for Christmas one year, my mum dreaded it and didn’t encourage me to continue, despite the good painting I did of some obscure Aztec ancient god.  My dad was proud of it, but she looked at it as an expensive past time that she wasn’t looking forward to smelling.

Since living with Paul, he believes I have talents in both but my main skill is writing simply because I don’t practise art enough.  In fact he is right, because I practise less than two hours a time approximately once every couple of months.  Whereas writing, I am practising almost every day for over an hour.

A lot of the time I just draw with pencils or a biro and never colour it in.  When I do really good drawings I am scared to paint them, because I tend to ruin good sketches with painting them wrong.  I have done excellent work that was ruined by paint.  A large African elephant in the Sahara, when painted, all the excellent detail was destroyed and it became cartoonlike, yet it was coloured in with watercolours, watercolour is my main medium. 

I do chalk pastel art too, but again, I am frightened to preserve it, as I tend to over spray and my work is literally washed away.

I am self-taught in both art and writing. 

Music is vital for me to work, this is the primary reason why I can’t work when my son is awake or at home, his noises drown out my music a lot.  He also wants the TV on all the time and that drowns out the music too.  Unlike most writers and artists I don’t like isolating myself in a room alone, I like to be around people, particularly people who respect music and respect the fact that I am working – a child can never do those things, they don’t understand; So, reluctantly I have to work around him and this is something I am dreading when I become professionally published – my time then has to work around the editors I am appeasing and for me, that’s going to be a nightmare.

 

 

 

 

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Filed under My art, My inspirations, My life

The Watchers of the forbidden world

copyright Tina Cousins FantasyFed 2016

copyright Tina Cousins FantasyFed 2016

 

The cloud rises, twists and twirls around the forbidden mortal world
Hues of blue and grey and white forbids the passage to their sight
Unseen we are the hidden ones, forbidden to enter, forbidden to come
No one knows we are here, their cries of sadness we often hear
Forbidden to answer their prayers and cries
Forbidden to help them, unless they die
We cannot go to take their pain, we can only watch and hear in vain
We cannot cross through their gate

We can only watch their terrible fate
We are the gods they pray will come
But it’s not our world, it is not our sun
We cannot control what goes on there
Only guide them to the heavenly stair
We are forbidden to touch and be, where the mortals live and breath
We are the watchers of their endless plight
The protectors of eternal light
We are your warriors we are your knights
We tuck you into dreamtime at night
We are not evil, we are not cruel
It is not our place to rule mortals
We aren’t heartless, we aren’t depraved
We are there and ready to save
You are mortals and we are not
We are the ones that you’ve forgot
We are tender and we are true
And we’ll always be there for you
But we cannot enter through the mortal gate
We can only watch your fate
And lend a hand to the path of death
At the time of your last breath
So carefully we will take your hand
And take you to our immortal lands
Where life has set you free to be
Another watcher like me

 

 

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Filed under Short Story Series

Who am I?

Know me and the way I am,

I am the ocean,

I am the sands

 I am the sky

 I am the birds,

I am the beast

 I am all words.

I can love and I can hate,

I can kill and create,

I am something and I am not,

I am cold and I am hot.

I am life and I am death,

I am the wine,

I am the bread.

I am wet and I am dry,

I am the hills,

who am I?..…God!

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Filed under Poems V - Z

there is no other hearth

In this world of men, there is always someone there to tell you when you are wrong

Time after time you’ll hear the same songs from many different voices

They say you have choices, but in honesty they’re wrong

True freedom exists only within our dreams, when religion is still awake on earth

Unfortunately it pollutes the world and we have no other hearth

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freedom from religion

I am going around the bend in a world that believe it is free

Whenever religion exists freedom is something that cannot be

I choose a secular life, but still religion thrusts on

I am sick and tired of hearing the same songs

I need to be in a world where I’m free

But with religion, that cannot be

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says the divine

You’re sweet as wine says the divine

You’ll excel you shall

I do not know what they mean

But I thank them and to them I hail

You are a wonder says the divine

You’ve done better things than planned

I try to know what they mean and my life I carefully scan

Do not think too much says the divine

You will see one day

That you are valued more than that of which that you can weigh

I am pleased by what I hear, but I am still unsure

The divine ones told me if I wait, I’ll see many exits and many a door

My perceptions of dark and light are only unique to me

Some things that I find good, might be bleak to thee

But whether they are good or bad, they are my perceptions only

Do we really want to cause a fuss on opinions that could make us lonely?

Nay I say, but will you too? 

Are you bothered by thoughts when you haven’t yet a clue?

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home to paradise

I was floating above my shell last night

About to travel to the world of my dreams

But then I stopped

I don’t know why

It’s frustrating that I do not fly into that other realm

Maybe it’s because the idea overwhelms?

Oh is it real?  I can’t tell

But I know it’s a place that’s put me under its spell

Maybe they’ll call me tonight or maybe not?

I hope so; to me it means a lot

Though I worry that it’s not all real

That a game is being played

I sometimes think that way and I shouldn’t

But I think I’m mentally frayed

Well one day I shall know

And if it’s real my happiness will overflow

But if it’s not, then my soul will die

Because for many years this place has made me cry

For I want to go home

I want to go home to my paradise

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