As I cross this gulf into the unknown I ponder to myself. Will I ever go back? Do I even want to? this lower frequency is know unappealing. The vibrations make me sick. Once you gain consciousness the old you dies. Your human self fades and your inner God emerges. So say goodbye…..Hello TGJ.
-To all the Ancestors and spirits, known and unknown. Ashe
TGJ
Cross. I kind of think of the whole Prop 8 thing, and how all of the Jesus-lovers are mad about it being overturned. I wonder why…
Megan Lyn
I’ve been looking around too much,
trying to roll my eyes.
Suspense dispenses from the gaze of peripheral spies.
I’ve been taking my time a lot,
crossing streets of infinite size.
Running down the seconds, the end comes as no surprise.
I’ve been breaking my teeth off,
trying to bite my tongue.
I’ve been wringing exhalations
from a tired, worn-out lung,
stringing together sentences
better left unstrung…
“I hate to be cross at you, but I really am at my wit’s end. You must put that paintbrush down — now — get a sponge and some water and start scrubbing the walls,” my grandmother said with crossed arms. “It’s a lovely mural, but you better hope that comes off.”
for thousands of years, it has been the weapon that the roman empire used as punishment. A tool that showed the power of death. Yet on one fateful day, one man died on a cross, and ever since then, it has been the symbol of life for all mankind. A weapon of defeat had turned into a weapon of life!
james
Crossing paths. Reason, season, or lifetime? Crossing tempers. Crossing our hearts when we pinky swear. Across the sky.
Mona
The blood, the blood that spilt upon the dirt for an old rugged cross people slit each others throats. A world dominated by religion where no one is truly free. People are oppressed because of their own beliefs. It seems that when you don’t believe what the others do your throat is slit and you’re left to die – alone in this world of blashpemy.
We all have our crosses to bear, though Jim has a bear to cross.
It was a quite massive bear, big as an island.
We called it bear island, and the coconuts there were very hairy.
A cross on the side of the road brings sadness and pain. A cross in a church brings doubt. A cross in a house brings peace. A cross in the path means diversion. A crossing of paths means opportunity. A cross is what it needs to be.
Abbey
cross the road but only after you have looked both ways. you haave to be safe before you can get to the other side.
a cross represents my FAITH and belief in a higher power, an ALL loving beautiful God :)
Wow, the cross? That’s really great. I’m a Christian, I bear one every day. Well, “bear” one. I like it. Get made fun of for it sometimes, but I don’t much care–it’s my choice. Of course a cross is more than a religious symbol. It can be a point where an important decision needs to be made, a cross between intersecting roads… there are all kinds of crosses.
I had to cross the broken road. Love was on the other side, and it took everything I had to get there. But it was worth everything I had, and everything it took from me. He was worth everything.
When I cross the street, it’s frustrating to remember which way to look for oncoming trafic. Sometimes it’s easy…there’s a street sign there…”one way”…just have to look in the opposite direction of the arrow! Sometimes, though…it’s a bit complicated. Crossed a street yesterday and had to look not only the way traffic was going…but there was a bike path with traffic in both directions!
K. Williams
She drew a cross in the sand, near the shore, where the waves could easily reach out and erase it. She watched as, slowly, the cross began to disintegrate at each passing over of the foamy waves. Taking the dried up old stick back in her hand, she traced another cross over the old one, and watched it fade away again.
I wonder if I will ever get this thing called love right, or will I bear this heavy cross forever.
Mary Lou Wynegar
Schwinn criss-cross, the used bike that’s sitting in my closet with a busted back tube. Bought for $60 after a long hard craiglist marathon of searches and inquiries. It’s treating me well, except for the flat of course..
jag
To cross the great divide/ I’ll never hide/ I’m falling fast/ into my past/ and I can’t hear/ your voice
Sergeant said it was time to move. First I dusted off my boots, for I’d need them to carry me farther into the desert. Next, I dusted off my rifle, for I’d need to to keep me safe from those who mean me harm. Finally, I dusted off my cross, because you never know…you know?
I am not usually a cross person, but she can bring it out in me without too much effort. Her look sometimes just frosts me and, being who I am, I retaliate. God, I wish I could break this pattern.
He made the sign of the cross above me, and I could only feel disgusted. How would this help me in anyway? These stupid superstitions, his magic wasn’t worth anything more than the faith only he had in it. Even though somehow I felt lighter, I ignored it, because it was nothing.
As I cross this gulf into the unknown I ponder to myself. Will I ever go back? Do I even want to? this lower frequency is know unappealing. The vibrations make me sick. Once you gain consciousness the old you dies. Your human self fades and your inner God emerges. So say goodbye…..Hello TGJ.
-To all the Ancestors and spirits, known and unknown. Ashe
Cross. I kind of think of the whole Prop 8 thing, and how all of the Jesus-lovers are mad about it being overturned. I wonder why…
I’ve been looking around too much,
trying to roll my eyes.
Suspense dispenses from the gaze of peripheral spies.
I’ve been taking my time a lot,
crossing streets of infinite size.
Running down the seconds, the end comes as no surprise.
I’ve been breaking my teeth off,
trying to bite my tongue.
I’ve been wringing exhalations
from a tired, worn-out lung,
stringing together sentences
better left unstrung…
knitted eyebrows, frowning until the muscles ache – a heavy sigh, a look that flashes warning – no yelling, yet.
“I hate to be cross at you, but I really am at my wit’s end. You must put that paintbrush down — now — get a sponge and some water and start scrubbing the walls,” my grandmother said with crossed arms. “It’s a lovely mural, but you better hope that comes off.”
for thousands of years, it has been the weapon that the roman empire used as punishment. A tool that showed the power of death. Yet on one fateful day, one man died on a cross, and ever since then, it has been the symbol of life for all mankind. A weapon of defeat had turned into a weapon of life!
Crossing paths. Reason, season, or lifetime? Crossing tempers. Crossing our hearts when we pinky swear. Across the sky.
The blood, the blood that spilt upon the dirt for an old rugged cross people slit each others throats. A world dominated by religion where no one is truly free. People are oppressed because of their own beliefs. It seems that when you don’t believe what the others do your throat is slit and you’re left to die – alone in this world of blashpemy.
We all have our crosses to bear, though Jim has a bear to cross.
It was a quite massive bear, big as an island.
We called it bear island, and the coconuts there were very hairy.
A cross on the side of the road brings sadness and pain. A cross in a church brings doubt. A cross in a house brings peace. A cross in the path means diversion. A crossing of paths means opportunity. A cross is what it needs to be.
cross the road but only after you have looked both ways. you haave to be safe before you can get to the other side.
a cross represents my FAITH and belief in a higher power, an ALL loving beautiful God :)
Wow, the cross? That’s really great. I’m a Christian, I bear one every day. Well, “bear” one. I like it. Get made fun of for it sometimes, but I don’t much care–it’s my choice. Of course a cross is more than a religious symbol. It can be a point where an important decision needs to be made, a cross between intersecting roads… there are all kinds of crosses.
I had to cross the broken road. Love was on the other side, and it took everything I had to get there. But it was worth everything I had, and everything it took from me. He was worth everything.
When I cross the street, it’s frustrating to remember which way to look for oncoming trafic. Sometimes it’s easy…there’s a street sign there…”one way”…just have to look in the opposite direction of the arrow! Sometimes, though…it’s a bit complicated. Crossed a street yesterday and had to look not only the way traffic was going…but there was a bike path with traffic in both directions!
She drew a cross in the sand, near the shore, where the waves could easily reach out and erase it. She watched as, slowly, the cross began to disintegrate at each passing over of the foamy waves. Taking the dried up old stick back in her hand, she traced another cross over the old one, and watched it fade away again.
I wonder if I will ever get this thing called love right, or will I bear this heavy cross forever.
Schwinn criss-cross, the used bike that’s sitting in my closet with a busted back tube. Bought for $60 after a long hard craiglist marathon of searches and inquiries. It’s treating me well, except for the flat of course..
To cross the great divide/ I’ll never hide/ I’m falling fast/ into my past/ and I can’t hear/ your voice
It’s just the dust in my eyes that’s getting to me. We were bound to cross paths again and I don’t think either one of us new how we would react.
Sergeant said it was time to move. First I dusted off my boots, for I’d need them to carry me farther into the desert. Next, I dusted off my rifle, for I’d need to to keep me safe from those who mean me harm. Finally, I dusted off my cross, because you never know…you know?
I am not usually a cross person, but she can bring it out in me without too much effort. Her look sometimes just frosts me and, being who I am, I retaliate. God, I wish I could break this pattern.
your heart and hope to die,. stick a needle in your eye. or in your arm. and then you will feel like that man who met his demise on the cross.
He made the sign of the cross above me, and I could only feel disgusted. How would this help me in anyway? These stupid superstitions, his magic wasn’t worth anything more than the faith only he had in it. Even though somehow I felt lighter, I ignored it, because it was nothing.