PAINTING WITH BLOOD by; (Nijagoldz)James Cuellar

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BRINGING JOY AT THE END.

(BRINGING JOY, AT THE END) by James Cuellar

The night has passed into the next new day
Bringing Joy I hoped- along the way.
I walk into the living room floor.
To check for daily news outside the front door.
on the way back I stopped at my pc
turned  the world on to view what I could see
What is this? I see on my page?
Something new happening
Bout, the new World Age.
How can this be? I ask myself
All that is left, as I could see- but not so well.
Soldiers marching on our street
What has arrived here is called hell
Once was said that
Someday soon,
We would have a new world order, was
Confirmed this late afternoon.
Frightening scenes-guns on the street,
Both large and small holding tight in arms
Soldiers, marching to the beat.
The sounds grew louder near our house
A commander with a horn begins to shout.
Come out to the streets you are no longer free!
Busting down doors with violent extremes
My bones rattled and my kids were so scared
Hard times have started, we could not live there
We knew this was coming; but not on our time
How quickly this happened without an alarm.
Thousands of people all single file
Marching somewhere it was only a mile.
Orders came in to strip off our clothes
given a suit and watched a cell door close.
One by one hand stretched out,
I saw this soldier dressed as a scout.
Placing numbers and shouting 666
The sound reminded me, I felt so sick.
We did not see it coming not one bit
But ah so sudden we got hit.
Soon right after this had taken place
Sudden lightening came from space;
With a loud shout and a horn blowing loud
All God’s children disappear into the cloud.

MY GRIEVING LOSS

My grieving Loss

As I look at you once, then twice, My eyes would expose the past and painful years.  Many days and nights I wondered ,would I see her again? Nothing has been more painful  then  to lose some one so dear, because of my crushing demise, now lays a wall of hate, to be carried for ever was more a mistake. I can not see the pain you have endured, when they told you lies, manipulated you.They would tell you what to say, poisoning your mind and making you believe lies even to this day. when they would say things about me and for you to stay away. All I remember, and God knows the truth, I have always took care of you with  love concern. You cried so much when in my care , I can remember how you acted out, from something that happened back there. Your innocent ears full of verbal shouts. When they would visit innocent they appeared. As though nothing was wrong ,their eyes would expose them filled with tears. Something was wrong I knew from my heart something bad had occurred. while you were with them they did not hide those moments of  rage flashing before your eyes. they  fought and fought  and you learned those ways, language so bad that filled the air waves,  by those you counted on even to this day. Then you would act out, those moments of rage while you were at play. You couldn’t express your pain in any other way.  so you would cry through the motions you learned and acted them out That was how you would say,-“ My daddy and mommy had a fight yesterday. I was scared and confused, I felt all alone, -why are they fighting please leave each other alone,”. your pain would resurface when you were at play, when they left you alone in my care one day, you looked so precious and innocent with your baby hair  so yellow gold, the wind gently blowing your hair through the sun rays to make it glow.  While playing  in your castle , you  had a burst of rage,  something a child would not do at two years of age.-you would act out by throwing lawn chairs around; and looking toward me, you told me something awful  with an eerie sound.  Pain in my heart was all I could feel,  All this from a child  so close so dear, I knew deep inside me from what I saw, she picked up the actions that only parents portray, she filled her head with lies about me , that resounds to this day.  By one who gave birth to this innocent child, who knew no curse nor  people so vile.  Now becoming a scapegoat for her own wicked ways,  against those who love the child so dear always to this day.  disregarding the times we shared our home with her,  we showed and gave nothing but love  for this baby and her. But now I am a scapegoat for her to use.Over everyone  she  has come to despise. Now this child continues,  still in her silence, suffering  the abuse.

ABOUT, THE STORY: THE PURPOSE IS TO GLORIFY GOD, AND NOT THE DEVIL.

The story I am working on has a theme of a thriller, a mystery, a horror story and a smidgen of romance, but what I intended it to be was the realities of hidden motive behind the created myths, and folklore; concerning characters, and story lines that only say depicts the worlds view of fantasy imaginations. Quite frankly, they are half-truths, and the underlying catalyst of a horror story is buried beneath all the excitement and thrills with the fear they convey to the reader or viewer; I read somewhere that people are addicted to fear, and the media tries to invoke it in their stories or novels. I am reminded of one true story that originated in Chicago Illinois, about a small boy was possessed by a demon; the movie that the media presented was this. The exorcist. You would see a catholic priest trying to perform exorcisms but had many failed attempts, then no wonder, it is no surprise to me for obvious reasons. This was a true story, and the media only depicts the scary scenes, and how the devil manifested itself during visits from the priest when dealing with the possessed boy. The word of God warns us that we should never attempt to contact familiar spirits, and for good reason I believe that is what real live ghost hunters of our day are doing. The devil is a liar and is crafty in making people believe that the deceased love one is still here and can be contacted by mediums and other spiritual mediums such as séances etc. now with that said. Here we have a story written in the same manner as those other stories they write about folklore characters such the movie, the wolf man created in the early 1920s and 30s, and then there is the story of count Dracula, which they created by the early 1400s the then known ruler Vladimir Tepe , In the province of walachia, in the country of Romania, In which he impaled his captured victims, those times were very violent, and Vladimir became feared by many of the people in those days as he was a very ruthless murderer, the media borrowed from that character and produced what we now call Count Dracula. Not too far fetched, not to me, knowing what God has taught about such evil presence in our world today. Many people are fooled today by those ghost hunters and what they capture on voice recorders, the devils responding to them pretending they are a certain person trapped in a gulf between Earth and the heavens. My story lends itself to the spiritual, more than the worldviews. How the evil spirit inhabits the human body, and how the battle is prepared to fight these evil spirits, and only if you are a spirit filled Christian, and filled with Jesus. (Born Again). And how God intervenes in this action filled thriller. I have to knowledge never before read a Novel, consisting of a deity as a hero. Please, I encourage you to read my story and enjoy.

MY THOUGHTS: The soul wants to express itself, we write to put into words what the soul needs to convey to the world. There must be change in the things that hinder one. Continuing to repeat the self defeating habits will result in failure in all your attempted efforts. We, also must never be afraid to fail, for it is how we learn what will work, or what will not work. For instance; When I write, my story without having to worry about editing. When we stop to edit during writing, in every sentence; Then we lose the rhythm of the story, and lose our train of thought. Because you are worried about getting your words just right. When I did this, trying to edit every sentence. I found that I lost my train of thought, I couldn’t find how to continue where I left off. I had lost my train of thought. So I started all over again. I learned from my mistakes. Now I keep my line of thought. I got further into the plot. Also, When I reached the climax stage, I was more conditioned to continue my story. With out the annoying habit of stopping at every sentence to edit my story.

thDRHCNEDK nice scenery

Writing to create your world for self enjoyment and peace of mind, to get out of the boring and chaotic world around us. It is not the only way, to deal with what is daily a negative impact on our lives. It is only one way; But you are having fun doing what you love doing. So we view photos of serene moments in time, Wishing you could feel the peacefulness of the pure white driven snow; With it`s magical presence and surrounding silence; As it settles in your heart and inside of you begins to glow.

beautiful-winter-sunset-snowy-park-36066088