CruzJonesWritings

Shepherd's Adoration

2010-12-19T08:49:00.000-08:00

Shepherd's Adoration (Written 1997)

A blessing very needed
a cold winters night
the direction always clear
follow the star so bright
A miracle brought forth
from Mary the one so pure
the saving seed, the messiah
for our world, the only cure
Day escaping, twilight invading
a labor destined to succeed
the divine prophecy coming true
sent to heal the hurt that in need
Burning star light the way
a certain direction, please do send
keep us on the right path
so that You will be there at the end.

Cry

2010-12-03T07:45:00.000-08:00

Cry (written 1998)

Show in me
Grow in me
Yield the soil and sow in me
Teach to me
Preach to me
Open Your arms and reach to me
Strain with me
Gain with me
Endure hardships of pain with me
Shine on me
Dine on me
Make Your mark and sign on me
Create in me
Relate in me
Free with love all the hate in me

Pleas

2010-11-07T19:24:00.000-08:00

Please (sometime between 1997-99?)

Saturate my spirit in the fellowship that is not physical, tie me to my teachers, pull me to my pupils, fasten me to my friends, I loath this perpetual ritual of uncontented relations of congregations.
Tears weep as fears sweep through the winds of my mind that howl with a wind of pressing pressure that pleads with a wind of pressing pressure much more that THIS, time here is pricelessly precious and it is crime to stand instead of walk, to mute instead ot talk, to refute instead of rebuild, to yield instead of pressing, to oppress instead of romance, so get up, get out of that stance and lets dance to the tune of today, lets play on how the now is for you and I , for you and I to live, to be alive, to give ourselves until we die, allow me to offer and allow you to receive, allow us to relate unreservedly, completely, spiritually, and entirely, let me partake in who you are before it becomes untimely too late.
Please for both our sake.
Pleas

My Woman

2010-11-05T07:18:00.000-07:00

My Woman (happy birthday)

The personification of sheer beauty lies in the configuration of her dear self, the epoch of divine creation.

She can be only echoed in the tranquility of trickles in a waterfall,
only shadowed in the incredibility of a perfectly tone sunset,
only faintly bestowed by the intricately shown twinkles before the morning call.
I sense her in every sensual texture, I taste her in every tantalizing devour;
her scent is in every inhaled encounter, even the power of my spirit is stimulated by her very cantor.

Her reflection I find is always intertwined with this blessed addiction found in more places than my mind.
How can I express to her that which goes beyond expression?
What can I compare her to in the entire selection of this earthly lair?
How can I compare that which is most fair?
The answer I find in this trying situation can only be she, the epoch of divine creation.

Bride

2010-11-02T21:40:00.000-07:00

Bride (also written sometime in 1998)

Under my breath I continue reminding sentiments of those binding covenants. I say allowed and pray what was vowed, "...in sickness and in health" I form with quickness and stealth of my lips.

Flashbacks return and I relearn more and find in the store of my mind the love that will consume and burn. I even recall all that was worn that day. I see pieces of my tunic was torn away from the times I would mourn to play in those choking weeds. Those times I would sway away and your horn would say to call me back. That was before the era when I was a meager kid eager to rid all that can overpower, in hope I might hove a shower of my own godliness to will my own will.
How foolish I was to be chaff in the wind. And how blessed it is that now I can revealingly laugh with a friend of the days I was unkin to my Father.

I still recall more that I wore, there was also those times when I would struggle with my strength to make treasures out of hurting dirt. That is when I wore the mud on my glove with ratted up hair, but all you wore was the atoning blood of love with care.
You stood bare on our wedding day.
I even recall the dowry you had to pay. It was the strife of my life. You justified all the rotten I won and have done with Your only begotten Son.The words that you sing when you slipped on the ring made all my sin be exiled and banished, as you pronounced, "it is finished". I was cleaned that day when you washed the silt on my feet away. And now I humbly sit by Your side as your beloved bride.

1 John 4:16

2010-11-01T21:16:00.000-07:00

1 John 4:16 (written along time ago, maybe 1998)

If love was poverty, I would be a miser
if love was riches, I would be a sultan
if earth, then a volcano
if wind, a hurricane
if fire, an inferno
if rain, a monsoon

if love was ideas, I would be philosophy
if love was words, I would be poetry
if a song, then a symphony
if a scent, then a perfume
if a color, then a prism
if a touch, then an embrace

If love was a person, I would be me.

Fall

2010-10-14T07:44:00.000-07:00

Fall (2010)

As a newly bare tree,
I transfer growth to my roots,
and winter into Thee,
in anticipation of new fruits.

Lose it to find it

2010-03-18T22:09:00.001-07:00

I have not written anything creative or poetic in a very long time but today as I sat quietly- just me & Jesus- I wrote out my thoughts and prayers and this came out. I didn't intend to write a poem at all- quite spontaneous I must say.

The wind is high, the branches are low

Another one passes by

Well didn't you know- there go mine. There go mine

The stems are bent, the skies they vent

It all whirls up, it all whirls in till it dies-

Yes that is where it hides.

But you say- unless it falls to the floor

Unless I lose my grip

Unless it dries up dead

It will never bear life

Lord help me to let it go-

Help me to take on death right now-

Let me see beyond this seed

To bear your witness crown.

May I bear your witness crown.

-Janine Jones

Love Expression

2009-09-01T21:06:00.000-07:00

Love Expression (written 2000)

The language of life originates from the roots of the soul.
With tongue it expresses, "lift your ears to me, my tears are for thee, please don't fear whats lovely."
With movement the body declares and my stride of the arms motion to, "not hide or become alarmed."
But it is the eyes that allow you to look through the intimate window of show.
It isn't the sighs of my voice or the arise of my poise that reveals my solemn joys.
Through the vessels of vision can be communicated how I daily wrestle with my commission.
They speak with all sincerity and reflect the source of whats lovely.

Lifted By Air

2009-05-05T21:41:00.000-07:00

Lifted by Air (written 2000)

You may see yourself clear but the blemish upon you can be seen by no common mirror. You have caught my body, and bought my time, this world thinks itself is what I am of, but I am in it, and it, I do not love. You have never thought to have sought for what you have ought. The reason of animosity I hold is not of you as a one, but the hate is for the deeds you have done, its of the atrocities so bold that have been committed and I tell you with care those customs must be admitted. I was once on your side defending my acts of being a whore, but it took a loving young ambassador to bring to light the might I spent to sell myself and look at the times of before. Again and again I swam in sin looking for reality within. I found fault but disguised it with salt. The taste was bland like the salt-water sand. It made me tick when I drank a drought of it, but I did not realize that it was making me sick.
I had not shelter nor peace to confide in so I went to darkness to find a spot to hide in. I found it familiar. I was living in solstice of the only Son, where love was lacking and light was none. My heart was callused and eyes blinded, my soul was headed to torment, at my own cross, I was binded. Hanging bare with nothing left but pain, to look back and cry at what I had to gain.
But as I was walking a man stepped up to me, He stayed by my side and kept up with me. Our pace was synchronized in rhythm, then I saw His face and I realized it was Him. He called me to kneel and make a stand for life. He then took my hand and breathed into me the breath that casts out death. He sent me back and lent me the Holy Spirit as a down payment until we meet again. It took Christ to show that I was nested in a tree with the burning fire below. That is why He gave me wings to fly.

Infant Understanding

2009-05-02T22:20:00.001-07:00

Infant Understanding (written 1999)

Grind and grit I file my frailty of understanding into aggravation.
I am sore of being selfish.
I ache for what I sin to take.
Agitated because I see the simpleness of my cripleness, my longing to understand my future.
Is it that I don't trust enough?
Afraid of the pain You plan for me, I remain as a man in anxiety.
In a field of pride I seek for serenity, so with the very knees I fall to as I humble my affairs to Your feet, I'm now on as my cares beat the dirt and dig frantically for answers.
With the same arms that I lift my distress to Your throne, I now use to shift the mess of brush apart as I rush and dart toward answers.
With the same voice that I declare my allegiance to You, I now use to call for answers.
I can't feel them, I don't see them, my ears ring only with silence. All senses answer with . . .
. . . nothing.
In exhaustion from my toils in this forlorn field of my Pride, at a yield, I reside, torn.
Humanity or divinity?
I shrug in perplexity.
Forgive me Father for envying Your understanding.
Mend this child.

I Need More Light

2009-04-30T22:43:00.000-07:00

I Need More Light (written 2000)

Ill-lumed air
Reality blends

Impressionism

Paper canvas in waiting
Anxieties are borders

Think . . .think . . . kniht
Weave endless words
Into a flock of
Woven winless birds
That coo through an after-hour clock

Tap . . . tap . . . pat
Beat a broken body
As its forced to
Brace and bear birth
To a ballad set in course by you

You . . . you . . . you
Exhale is exquisite
As the impression
Blends reality
Into my word-back obsession

I light another candle to breathe.

If Love

2009-04-10T22:30:00.001-07:00

1 John 4:16 (written 1999)
If love was poverty, I would be a miser
if love was riches, I would be a sultan
if earth, then a volcano
if wind, a hurricane
if fire, an inferno
if rain, a monsoon
if love was ideas, I would be philosophy
if love was words, I would be poetry
if a song, then a symphony
if a scent, then a perfume
if a color, then a prism
if a touch, then an embrace
If love was a person, I would be me.

Defamation of Joanne

2009-04-04T06:49:00.000-07:00

Defamation of Joanne (written 2001)

Cretans interrogate the obvious delights
Inquiries of waggish jest throughout the nights
Repeat their beats of wanton wails
Sounds that sculpt forms of contention
Played off as child’s innocence
Playing on child’s discrimininces
Delectation disfigure into indiscretion

These are the ways of byword jays
That specks and speaks of gossip leeks
Nests built upon half-truth frays and darkened days
Create shivery shelters on doomsday peeks
May their forked song be forgiven of impartialities
To convert and discharge grace amongst the face of all Realities

Room I've Made

2009-04-01T08:53:00.001-07:00

The Room I've Made (written 2000)
I am a claustrophobic room, afraid of my long-stale, wrongly-stayed interior. I choke on my lost waste that salivates with exhaust taste. My anatomy jabs at me to see out the tiny window the size of a key. Peering I become appalled at the unwalled domain. A jeering first impulse to crack open this hole is halted by the steering stop of my lack of soul. "I do, I do powerfully want to posses that breeze that will break the freeze of this icebox." I beg, "Please, please give me release for ease to peace. I'll repent for just a scent of that air out there." And then doubt whispers in my ear with help from his friend fear, "Yes, it's true, wind will come in but so will rain too, and its always better to stay dry even though we're blue."
So I listened to my long-stayed, wrongly-stale friends of misfortune as I turn pale in the room I've made.

Be my Dear?

2009-03-26T18:49:00.000-07:00

Be my Dear? (written 1999)
Your shadow is white porcelain
tangible beauty undarkend
I hope for trap as I reach in
imprisoning me as my gravity
wishing to abide in serenity
I fear to not breathe in your atmosphere
so please, stay near and reside as my dear

Animation

2009-03-22T09:00:00.000-07:00

Animation (written 1998)
The stagnant tale of remaining timelessly stale is a product of the demise in living with confining compromise. There soon settles a stress to lift anchor and take sail, to make course in the ways of the wise. No longer hearing the exhales of Christ and not changing the bearing toward the gales of growth. No longer reading His love letter and floating on the fails of my oath. But now I am finding nutrition in my daily bread. The elegant element that brings a condition to follow what was and what is being said. In fact and to the point, I realize my eyes aren't exact in measure at times. Frustration also arises when they commit the crimes of false dilation. The vision does not grow assured and light and lines remain blurred. The shame arrives when elders are still suckling on milk. When the pupils aren't set in a destination to become teachers. When the life doesn't age and spirits are trapped in a cage remaining behind the bars of stagnation.

Life means living and with that means ongoing, to keep on growing upward and onward, sowing the seeds of witness. Ever gaining ground more and more, not showing a hint of bore. Knowledge can never be full, it is only a pull to gain greater understanding of where we are standing and realize who the One is that is handing us everlasting life.

Magnetic Too

2009-03-10T22:40:00.001-07:00

Essential bitter wind will blow and one will fall as music soaks over her from eternity to a thousand lovely aches of the gardenous summer sky.

Magnetic One

2009-03-10T22:38:00.000-07:00

After some were behind the whisper of the
forest
They worshiped delicate storms with mist above the sea
They live in places of fast bare feet leaving dreams
And swim about these lakes to tiny rain size visions
From head to rose-petal fingers their gowns produce symphony
And lather water after wanting blue felt beauty
As like floods full of spring honey
As white shadows in the Moon.