tobe, with their daughter,
Luv takes time ...
it simmers, and bubbles, and over flows.
Then what remains, in old age?
that midnight cigarette?
This then, they do now, here,
“Out of the quarrel with others we make rhetoric; out of the quarrel with ourselves we make poetry.” ― William Butler Yeats
What of the other,
handmaiden.
She who bore,
the Son of God.
Was she like the former.
Ruth bore, the son of Naomi.
The grandfather, of David.
So to the handmaidens,
now we do ...
This then honor,
the Mother Of All.
"Entreat me not to leave thee ...
Thy people shall be my people ...
Thy god is my God."
He who bore the sins of the world.
Born of a handmaiden.
A gift to The Mother,
Eternal, in her home above.
We speak not of her,
this then, must we change.
This then to honor,
them all.
That then all of the handmaidens,
to the Mother, Eternal...
May they share. The fruits of their womb.
Eternal.
Ruth was Naomi's handmaiden.
This fruit of her womb, given as a gift,
and a sign of love.
I have know Naomi,
I have know Ruth.
I choose to luv,
them both.
One for the gift of life,
the other for the gift of her life.
For to cherish the children,
both they do.
Slow down He said.
There is danger ahead,
slow down.
No danger was there
I saw it not.
Thus, I slowed down.
I have learned to heed his council.
That is why I preside now,
over his mission,
and 240 of his children.
That nothing happened.
Did I hear Him wrong?
This I did not!
I know his voice,
as a child knows his father.
Then on I go,
to preside again.
Because I headed his voice,
nothing, was there.
To this, to then.
This Mother's Day,
To then, to this,
Go forth, and now
To Joy go forth,
to share it now.
To rise, to fall
then onward go.
To luv, my Mom,
and then my wife.
To bring the joy,
then, now we share.
Then on, to forth,
to our daughter now.
To Mothers, this day,
Then not my best.
To this, then Mothers,
Then tobe.
She loved me, then,
Now, both they do.
The first, then Mom,
now then, my wife.
To honor, both then
This then, I do.
Then to another,
She then, will be.
Mothers, till then,
They all, then be.
He said not to drink caffeine,
the minister did,
if i wanted to go on a mission
then drink it not,
it is law
Gods law,
the word of wisdom.
I was then faithful.
To the law.
or was I?
I found the poem, today.
the one to daddy,
before he was daddy.
Momma had the prettiest penmanship,
but spell, she could not,
to save her life.
I loved to read, mommas letters.
To me, she wrote one,
when I broke my arm,
as a child.
I found it in the baby book ...
the one she started,
but never completed ...
Their was a shadow, on the book,
left by the trauma, of my surgery,
at birth.
Momma luved Daddy,
the kind of luv that stays,
and works things out.
I want that kind of luv,
for my wife and children.
To stay and work things out.
Maybe someday,
they will find my letters, and poems,
and feel my luv for
my wife, and their grandmother.
It was a Kenny Loggins night,
There by the banks of the old canal,
behind the elementary school,
theme from "Top Gun",
on the WalkMan.
This place, full of memories, bad ...
and good, on the highway,
to the danger zone
She was his first, and still his only ...
Tomorrow, at the Temple,
they will covenant to be one.
Together, they will share,
This ride, into the wind.
But for now, He thinks
Of the dance, to come.
This life, together, and apart.
Why continue, the dance.
Nearly 50 years, separated only by death.
She really wanted the 50, years.
Come together, separate, then together ...
Again.
Their had been other lovers but only one
Real, luv.
Why continue the dance?
She really luved him but life,
With him, was hard.
She never let anyone close, really close
But the dance they shared,
The life they shared.
It ment so much, to them, and the children.
Is love then truly an act and not a feeling.
To endure the heartache and pain.
This then the dance, together and apart.
We both carry the scars,
the ones from our darkest day.
I for the life I lived,
He from the life I lived.
Dark with dispair, was I.
To carry my dispair, did he.
How I long to speak, to him,
of our scars.
He must have luved me,
as I long to luv them now.
This is a dream we share,
the scars that bind us ...
Eternally.
Difficult things, I seek to know.
Yet thus explain, I cannot.
And little understand, do I yet.
I ponder them now,
These many years
Long do to I desire,
to share these thoughts.
Then why do you not,
understand me thus?
To win an argument,
I do not, then seek.
I want to share, a truth.
Maybe the day, will come,
when better prepared to receive, you are
Or more able, to explain, I am.
Till then, shall we dance,
and be friends.
She painted,
In water colors and oil.
Whence she started, I do not know.
Late in life, I do suppose.
In life, I did not appreciate them.
Long gone, she is now.
Charlene her daughter in law
She was living with, when grandma died.
She sent them to my sister.
We have them now.
I long for her presence,
the paintings will do..
for Now.
Maybe my children will have my poetry,
when gone, I am, too.
Will they long for me, as I do, for her ...
Now
Why choose,
to end a life.
Mistakes he had made,
and been forgiven.
Then came, new life,
a wife, and 2 children.
Still the demons haunted him.
The seizures, waking,
have returned again.
He tried, so hard,
To begin life, anew.
I have had dark hours too.
I know the despair felt, that day.
Luckily no access to guns, did I have,
on my day.
Others live with our choices, too.
Now two babies have no father.
The world has one more widow.
And I am a loss,
to explain, the choice.
She had told him,
The young life, had been wasted?
Or did she.
He ask momma,
Why his daughter died.
His daughter being less then 6 months.
Crib death they called, it.
No explanation, no answer.
He ask Momma,
Why.
To help you be a man.
He said I am not a man, I have not changed.
He heard, "Your daughters life's was wasted"
He then became a man, and changed.
This is the story, I heard,
as I studied,
at his table.
Two lives improved, by her short life.
Now I tell you the story.
This is the power of myth, as it becomes midrash.
To this then the poems.
Come forth unannounced
Unaware.
I call them forth, naught.
From whence do the come?
Come forth thence do, they.
To bless, and to share.
Thus,
therapy, could be they?
Share them, do I,
Then.
In hopes to bring forth,
The light.
For all to share.
It was oil, olive,
Then was it, naught.
Together, they nelt,
Together, they prayed.
How does one seek forgiveness,
of the self.
To then hallow, the vulgar, choice.
To remove,
this, then, the pain.
Thus, to bless the oil,
and then the act.
To make this, then, sacred, the choice.
To the moment they shared.
That peace may come,
and the pain,
be no more.
For to remove, is to restore,
and safeguard life.
This then, the choice, he made.
Nephi had done it.
Many prophets did it
Defied the culture
To save a life.
Now we plant the pot.
It is a risk.
The risk we bare.
He who plants, 24 years.
We who grow, our home, and freedom.
We risk it all.
For the one we luv
Now to bare fruit.
The cure it came.
To share another day.
With the one we luv.
The blanket,
it was spread forth,
on the roof top.
All the unclean food.
"Take eat this is my body"
Three times the command was repeated.
Then the meal was removed.
Three times he had denied Christ, before.
He had been ever faithfull,
Ever since.
But this seamed a bridge, too far.
He pondered thus.
Can anything be impure,
What God has made pure.
When the men came,
from Cornelius,
he journied, thus.
Have I denied,
the pure,
unpure.
The pot was planted,
the pure,
unpure.
The prisoner, in his jail cell.
The unloved.
The unwashed.
To have not left,
The cave.
To leave behind the burden,
the expectation of his culture.
To be with, and strengthen,
the impure.
Those with heavy burdens.
This was his task,
and desire.
Success and family was what, then he saught, always.
Long lived they in the cave.
The images that surrounded, them.
Were they real, or naught.
The others, outside, had such expectations.
He wanted to be with them too.
To be with them, this he could naught.
So he lived two lives, between the real and the cave.
Someday he would be naught.
Maybe his God would judge him naught.
But leave them, in the cave, he could naught.
Until they freed themselves.
Was it not the cave, Plato's cave.
Escape it once he did, almost.
But return then he must.
They could not see the real for the image.
For to leave them he could bare, naught.
So this then, was his task.
To be with them, and strengthen them, until they freed their own chains.
Then together they would leave the cave...
Tobe their naught.
What of the Celtic Bishop's.
Born so long ago.
How long did they preserve, the church?
... after the fall of the empire.
This long time, they served humanity, and transmitted culture, and learning.
St. Patrick's grandfather was one.
How they loved and cherished their wives.
To nourish the church in the wilderness,
was it not, their lives vocation.
Till in her beauty, she came forth, in all her strength, and magistry.
I am a Vulgar man.
Less common with the coming years.
I learned to swear, like Brother Brigham.
Life does that to you.
This life happens, as you are making other plans.
Promised a large righteous posterity, by one who knew I was sterile.
Never to create new life in this world.
How does one become less common, more vulgar.
Feeling less mormon, and more christlike each day.
I planted the pot.
I adopted two children from one who could create new life, special gift, from one who loves our family.
A gift, I hope to repay someway.
I helped to prosecute a young man who misused his reproductive powers.
Then purchased a van to visit him for several years.
To let him know he was not his crime.
This commoness
This Vulgarness
Trade, with the coming years.
Till I become less like me,
and more like him.
Does the song?
Know when, to remember,
Or when, to forget.
Memories of Momma, on my mind.
When will come the children.
To long for them we do.
Do I remember the future, or is it the past.
This time too, shall pass.
This road to come, long it is,
Here I am in Momma's van.
Trisha Yearwood, playing on the tape deck.
"The Song Remembers When".
When to love, when to cry, and when to try again.
He was angry with one of them.
With which one, he was not certain.
He had kissed them both.
In his life, their had only been two.
One gave him life, the other shared his bed.
Why spread the anger at the first, to the second?
The second had urged him, to settled the anger , with the first.
He was unwilling, to do the same.
So it spoiled his time, with the second.
Before the death of the first, their was reconciliation, and real forgiveness.
Now how to return to the second, to diminish the void, he created.
... this then is his quest.
It was long his dream,
To write the history.
He tried once,
So long ago.
The journals in high school.
The letters to his children.
They were too complete,
in his brokeness.
How to help you to luv them,
He saught.
Then comes the poetry.
Poetry is broken, and incomplete.
This is the blessing, and a way, to show,
The luv.
Why does a man need purse?
I knew a man, who had a jewelry box.
I have been accused, of being that man,
Little Eddie Jr.
In my purse, I have 5 Android devices,
And their chargers.
O' and my wallet too.
It was purchased for a small netbook,
But now it is a murse, a man's purse.
We go many places, together.
I always have it nearby.
Once in the hospital, I had no charger.
Now like a good Eagle Scout, I am always prepared.
It has a spare battery powered charger, two bluetooth headphones.,
And lots of good USB cables .
I hope you are prepared with a murse, or a jewelry box.
Momma had a twin sister,
they were born 18 months apart.
Where one would go, the other would follow
for years they shared a bedroom,
and a bed too.
Momma had the babies
her sister helped to raise them.
having three children,
in a short time,
momma needed help, with the babies.
momma, took her sister, on their vacations
they shared a bed then too.
momma was in the middle,
just so daddy's eyes did not roam too far.
they luved the babies together,
momma and her sister.
in the summer's, after her marriage
momma sister would take a child, for a week or two.
her sister ached for her unborn child
momma's children helped fill the void.
I luved momma and I luved her sister,
They really completed each other.
Let's make a baby,
She said.
It was not the first night,
But the second.
The first had been a pajama night.
Still he had not sleeped with a woman,
Except momma, her momma, or an aunt.
The first day was a busy day,
The wedding breakfast,
Temple ceremony, when he nearly fainted, and the wedding reception.
So the first night was a pajama night.
She was the first to kiss him,
Except momma.
That second night, they did try, to make a baby.
Little did they know, He could never create new life.
Still they luved to try.
The babies did come, send from another who luved them all.
He so luved his Eve.
So times seam tough and life is a struggle ,
Still he knows she was the first and will remain the only,
To ask him, to help her, to make a baby.
... "but all the men in the United States cannot prevent a man from thinking. There are not Apostles enough in the Church to prevent us from thinking, and they are not disposed to do so; but some people fancy because we have the Presidency and Apostles of the Church they will do the thinking for us. There are men and women so mentally lazy that they hardly think for themselves. To think calls for effort, which makes some men tired and wearies their souls. Now, brethren and sisters, we are surrounded with, such conditions that it requires not only thought, but the guidance of the Holy Spirit. Latter-day Saints, you must think for yourselves. No man or woman can remain in this Church on borrowed light." (J. Golden Kimball. April 1904 General Conference)
She, was dying.
Dying She, was ?
Or, was He ?
To grateful, for the small things,
Where, they?
A full hair of head .
A Hair Stylist, with real talent.
Two children, and a husband, she luved.
Angry he was, VERY VERY VERY ANGRY !
She was the center of his universe.
Talk about it, he could not .
Why?
Then came the one who brought the cure.
... AND ANGRY, VERY ANGRY, was he, still.
So, very still.
Talk, he could not, and why, they knew not.
Yet, came the cure, the full head of hair.
A full remission.
... and now to the rebuilding, of a life.
To let the anger, be still.
In it comes, out it goes.
A confession, or renewal.
The invitation.
To return, thus, it is.
Now to renew, the journey.
Hope of a rebirth, of the covenant.
Thus a trade, a restoration.
The end, of the beginning.
5-28-2017
"Go back to the darkest roots of civilization and you will find them knotted round some sacred stone or encircling some sacred well. People first paid honour to a spot and afterwards gained glory for it. Men did not love Rome because she was great. She was great because they had loved her." (G.K. Chesterton, Orthodoxy)
The stories of Luke Skywalker or Han Solo are the sacred myth of my generation. Though set "Long ago and far, far away" They are the sacred fire we built our culture around.
Another is the story of Adam and Eve. This story has transformed my relationship with my mother. Thus the power of this myth.
Eve was a woman who desired to have children. In her desire to have children, she became broken. In this brokenness we now live. Eve sacrificed her presence with God so I could be born.
My mom and I have a difficult relationship. We are both broken souls. It is the power of the Eve myth that rebuilds our relationship. I value the sacrifices offered by her, her mother, and her mother's mother, to create my life. This gratitude has driven me, to restore my relationship, with my mother.
These sacrifices , are not in theory. These sacrifices, are in fact. My mother's family have collected these stories. I know their names and birthplace to at least 7 generations. I have their stories. The babies, they lost. The husbands they buried. They are real to me.
Thus, the power of the Eve myth to shape and forge, mine and my mothers relationship.
These myths tie me to my mothers, for all time.
their she was, in him, Adam
did he not see her.
she was a part of him,
but he was alone.
all of creation had a companion,
he did not, or so it seamed, to him.
then came the separation,
now she was not part of him.
now he was not alone,
or so it seamed to him.
now, through all eternity,
he must strive,
to return,
to when, she was part of him.
a ris'n or a setting mourn
no more they mourn
when gone, i am
who will mourn
in the mor'n
or in eve,
the twilight
is it a rising
or a setting mourn.
What was it she said,
...this, now, so long ago.
It seamed new, and fresh,
...this, now, so long ago.
this feeling was old, yet new
this feeling, of yester-year
was it lost,
or was it found
This feeling, I never knew,
...this, now, so long ago.
Steven Bassett
April 2015
To be grateful is,
To be grateful for.
This more I seek.
Then is it more?
The more I become,
The less I am.
T'is this I seek
To be less, then more..
The more I am,
The more I seek.
The more I seek,
The less I am.
Till then I am,
To'be no more.
I will seek,
Then less of more
To then I 'come,
All the more.
Steven Basset
April 2015
She luv'd him,
but why.
This then, the many years.
If luv is a verb ...
Then luv him, she did.
Many actions, through the years.
He knew, no children,
might be their lot.
Still ...
She luved him.
Accepted her, he did ...
only to discover, it was,
he not her.
Then came the gift, of the two.
But would he be,
the one, she choose, always ...
,to luv.
This then, must be ...
,his choice, to serve her, then ...
he must, and choose
This luv, daily.
To be'still my soul,
Come'th it now..
Invited I not,
yet come'th, then forth.
This talent, long buried ...
lay dormant it still.
To this, then the garden...
the garden, my soul.
Tragedy, brought for'th,
To cultivate, thus,
This, to the muze,
be grateful, ther'by.
From whence,
doeth it come.
Come'th it does,
To now and then
Then and now
come'th it still
still to my heart
come'th it now
Still doeth it come
To'be quiet my soul
My soul to be'stilll
Doth quiet it now.
To reveal is to hide
Remaith their, still.
April 4, 2016
It came at a great cost,
The Tao, of Stev,
Momma full of pain.
Papa, lost his mind.
Brother, not certain, of love.
Two sister's, struggled, to find a place,
... and each other.
How does one struggle?
... for a Tao.
He thought he found it,
... in the church that supported, him, them.
More discoveries, on the mission,
to Mississippi.
A wife.
Two children ...
Gifts from one, who loved them.
Then, the car accident,
... the cancer returns.
He lost it all,
in the deepest part, of his soul.
How to recover, the Tao ...
,saught he then.
, ... still does now.
I am damaged goods .
Born defective..
Of broken soul's.
Young they were...
these broken soul's.
They sought to repair us...
the doctor's ...
... and the priests.
This long time ...
... they have sought our souls.
He was broken too.
Broken by the ones,
he sought to redeem.
In this brokenness,
...then beyond redemption, are we?
Then on, to redemption,
this journey, then we seek
Then to serve,
... in our brokenness,
... is what remains.
How many times,
had he returned.
Alone.
Was he alone,
in crowds?
This three days,
this then, no more ...
Alone.
The dishes, she cleaned,
the table, she set,
the dinner, she served.
This, the one,
who gave him life.
had ceased to do,
long ago,
This three days,
she had come,
to change, his life.
Then to be grateful,
must he,
then be.
This, then,
to show,
gratitude, and luv.
Luv is so sweet,
When taken, this choice.
To choose to luv,
T'is it a gift, from diety.
Tougher, then, this choice,
A return, then, to joy.
The sweetness can come,
... after years of bitter sorrow.
Earned thus it is.
Like vinegar, that reduces, to wine.
This reversal to youth ...
like young luv, it returns.
The bitterness, long forgotten. .
It, the act of a two part ...
Forgiveness,
...
Thus returns, to youth, and joy ...
tobe, then, to the,
... "I Am" ...
The choice, she made.
The gift, they shared.
Two for them,
was the gift.
A choice, not an accident,
or mistake.
This, a free will gift ...
of Luv.
Honored they were,
by the gift ...
this gift of Luv.
Together ...
they cherished,
The Children.
This daughter of Eve,
and ...
Adam's off-ox.
To luv her ...
In the end, was the choice.
But how to choose.
Her sisters would have replaced,
... her.
This choice was not made,in his youth.
This daughter off Eve ...
was distant, as was, Adams off-ox.
How many of Eves daughter's,
had sacrificed to create, her life.
How many of Eve's daughters,
would he lose, if he selected, an aunt,
for, his mom.
This price, he would not pay.
Reach out again ... he did.
This dance, this time, they,
... did not pull away.
Together they danced,
and celebrated Eve's daughters,
and Adams off-ox.
This, then, the miracle,
He comes ?
Tis pierced, and shunned.
This then, the miracle,
We seek.
To recognize.
The one, we do.
This, then the miracle.
I prayed for a miracle,
I got the pot, planted.
Her death, would it come ?
Know I not, but when,
soon...
God, then sent, this gift
This to recognize, took but, years.
Death has not come,
Pass by it thus,
Has ...
This wife, still thus,
I have, and children too.
Plus one. ..
Solved ...
The great Nephretic puzzle
Thus, I have.
Now to be greatful,
For the miracle, he hath wrought.
And gifts, we now share.
(Book Of Mormon, 1 Nephi ch. 4)
Chapter 4
Nephi slays Laban at the Lord’s command and then secures the plates of brass by stratagem—Zoram chooses to join Lehi’s family in the wilderness. About 600–592 B.C.
10 And it came to pass that I was constrained by the Spirit that I should kill Laban; but I said in my heart: Never at any time have I shed the blood of man. And I shrunk and would that I might not slay him.
...
12 And it came to pass that the Spirit said unto me again: Slay him, for the Lord hath delivered him into thy hands;
13 Behold the Lord slayeth the wicked to bring forth his righteous purposes. It is better that one man should perish than that a nation should dwindle and perish in unbelief
... love being a verb
is a things that retains ...
requires action to endure
life being unfair,
Is ment to sustain.
how to be greatful,
and not bitter and angry
when those we love are,
Tobe,, taken..
strive always...
to awaken each morning,
to be greatful,
...that you share, one more day.
Dec 2015