Goodbye 2025, I feel stronger now.
I feel wiser.
2025 taught me a lot about myself.
I learned about family, friends, and associates.
Headed into a New Year, I learned that with the ability to create, work, endure and believe in something greater than life everything will be okay.
Goodbye 2025, Hello 2026, let’s make it a good year.
A New Year
In the wee hours of the night I found myself dreaming about the dollar bill.
Just like everyone else I had to pay up eventually.
Realizing that I’d made a promise my phone rang.
It was her.
Comprehending the universal laws that governed man I knew that if I said no the gates of hell would soon open.
The truth is, I was tired.
I loved music and sadly I’d sat in a room devastated by the evils of myself and everyone being exposed in the music industry.
The room was dark, silent.
I’d just got done listening to my audio bible just to feel some form of purification, but even the Bible can tell a brutal story.
I’d become tired of politics and the slander and slaughtering being revealed online.
There was no escape.
Hearing the phone ring, I felt my heart skip a beat. Facing my own personal demons I began to have flashbacks of every single dollar fading to the point of dust.
I saw men being slaughtered and eaten alive just to pay the bills.
Athletes, doctors, politicians, preachers, dentists, musicians, actors, teachers and even children. Everyone was scraping for cash.
In the distance I could hear a drip falling into a plastic dish that I’d placed underneath a small leak in the roof.
The dollar was literally dissolving right before my very eyes and I’d just saw the price of silver.
For the thousandth time in my life I’d felt uncertain.
I saw farmers slaughtering pigs on dried up land and government officials being hung on corrupt charges.
That’s when I brung out the gifts and witnessed children being slaughtered in cold blood in a war being televised on National TV. It never ended and it felt like they were begging for my blood also.
Falling to my knees I felt my heart skip a beat again. On my phone I couldn’t help but see childhood hero’s being sacrificed in front of a goat.
Feeling nauseous, I saw a woman smoking a cigarette while another was drunk.
She then screamed as if someone was going to rescue her. She had to be on drugs.
Craving the scent of a woman myself I couldn’t help but notice a beautiful virgin girl running in the wee hours of the night.
“Who was she running from?” I thought to myself.
Now sitting back in a dark room I turned on the light and I noticed blood on my Santa hat. It was now dirty too.
Fighting for some form of pure spirit I just sat there hoping for silence.
This part of life is not televised, there is no script and nothing is made up.
Christmas was a few days away and outside I could hear church bells.
They too were sacrificing good sheep.
Realizing that there was no escape, the light burned my eyes and just like the rest of the world I began eating the Christmas animals.
I too began acting like an animal.
I too became a carnal beast basking in the Christmas vibes.
I ate the last of what was left only to become hungry for more.
Submitting to the will of Uncle Sam I was left with no choice but to eat left over pork.
In a rage of reality that abundance was no more we all soon fell victim.
My only escape was a pen and a piece of paper.
Hearing my stomach growling I was left with no choice but to eat Santa’s reindeer also.
The only thing that I could find on earth that was pure was greed.
It was everywhere.
It’s amazing how good pork and deer meat is when you’re hungry but when you’re greedy you want everything and will devour anything.
Even the holiday.
The animal in us all could not be contained, and I think Christmas made it worse.
The debt was unsustainable.
There was no escape.
It turned us all into animals;
Christmas Animals
Laying on the floor, I saw a pinecone, it reminded me of the aura of my pineal gland.
Then I saw the tree made of wood and branches with pines, it reminded me of a triangle or pyramid.
Then I saw candy canes splitting the Red Sea.
In a state of tunnel vision, I saw an angel carrying the light of a North Star with my family ornaments hanging on top of our family tree.
In shock, I saw the symbols of life all around me, vibrating like a Christmas code.
Standing on the roof with divine deer, I couldn’t help but reach the top of the pyramid as ice crystals fell from the sky.
In ah, I fell asleep in my pileus cap only to dream and wake up free.
While reaching for my present I decoded symbols that as a child I failed to recognize.
These symbols provided me with a doorway into paradise.
My good will was the key.
After a good holy read, I then noticed that my tunnel vision was getting clearer and my nightmares went away, only then did I know.
The code led me to a mirror. A window to my soul.
For the first time I saw an image of myself.
Who am I?
The book of Genesis says that Noah’s offspring would be blessed. The book calls us sons of God:
(Genesis 6)
I wrote this piece to remind you of a friend. When you’re lost and lonely to give you peace.
In sadness, in good times and in bad times, a friend to lean on.
An invisible force dwelling in the darkness of space blowing like the wind.
A force of good.
A brother and a friend.
To the lost; a road to hope.
To the weak; a messenger of strength.
To the blind; a guiding light.
Mercy, providing something greater than this life.
Although the entire world may not know the story I’ll kindly introduce you to a proud member of Abraham’s bloodline.
This holiday season, I encourage you to look to the North Star.
Child, women, boy, girl and men.
Through him you can do all things.
With no gifts under the tree, don’t lose hope, for your future is in his hands. In time all blessings await.
To the unfortunate who may not get a chance at a happy life, let him encourage you and welcome you into the kingdom of heaven.
To the many men whom he has given gifts to bring us abundant joy.
To the forces of good and evil that balance things out.
To the Guardians and givers of life, for in him, beloved, you may find grace.
Find joy, in the story of the king of kings.
Beloved brethren, find a piece of yourself in the body of the Christ.
His strength is perfect, and his love endures.
Get to know him,
The Christ.
“I married you because I love you Isaiah,” Sasha said.
“Daddy, we’re hungry. Is Santa going to bring Ben a play set this year?” Isaiah’s daughter Cassie said.
He and his wife knew that the government had cut just about every benefit that they’d had left.
“Isaiah, are you even listening to your kids? Do you ever listen to anything we tell you? Cassie, go play with your brother.” Sasha said.
“How can we play if we’re hungry mama?” Cassie said.
Realizing that he’d literally just taken a verbal beating from his boss after asking for a raise, Isaiah sat back in his chair as his wife went on and on about what she and the family needed. He’d sold everything, he’d worked to the bone just to keep the lights on. His debts were mounting and sadly the vision of a Merry Christmas with presents everywhere for his family seemed to be fading. The entire time his wife spent screaming, Isaiah said nothing. Everything that he slashed led him to snap. After his wife got tired of complaining he kindly surrendered to his enemies and the debt collectors. They took his hands and nailed him to a cross then stuck him in the front yard so not only his family could see him suffer, but the entire neighborhood. To reclaim their debts, they whipped him and beat him into mercy. Isaiah, now bleeding and shamed, began to tremble in numbing pain. With a crown of thorns on his head, his family watched as his enemies took pleasure in reclaiming their debts and redemption. The ring leader then stood over him and spit on his bloody face. At this moment Isaiah’s wife began to cry.
“Why are they doing this to daddy momma?” Cassie asked.
Sadly, his enemies hated him so much that they made them all sit and watch.
Sasha said nothing.
“Kneel to the Jesus freak.” She heard one of them say laughing as they’d took him down and left his battered and brushed body with his community that they pretty much controlled.
Once they were done, Isaiah was clean of his debts and neighbors began to pour in donations.
Nearly lifeless and in pain his family had the best Christmas of their life as he laid in bed almost lifeless in his room recovering.
The entire time, Isaiah said nothing. As his family enjoyed the holiday they became the symbol of something far more important. They became the symbol of something far more powerful. Why Isaiah surrendered to his enemies and debt collectors was a mystery. His wife thought he did it because he wanted to die. His neighbors thought he did it because he wanted to be debt free. It was clear that what ever triggered him to do this and face extreme humiliation changed the course of his life. As time went on and everyone got older, Isaiah’s daughter looked at her father’s now healed Christmas slashes as he sat in a chair by his favorite window.
“I love you daddy.” She said to her father who often had no room for words.
Trapped inside of his mind. A tear fell from his eye.
Cassie had never heard her father say a word to her until now.
“I love you too. I did it for you and your brother, always remember that,” Isaiah said as the room grew silent again. Cassie was in shock.
Seeing his family make it to the finish line, Isaiah stepped into the light and gave up the ghost. For the sake of his entire family he slashed everything and even took a beating so that his children could enjoy the holiday. Somehow he made it through his marriage and eventually, in time, his Christmas slashes would heal. His beating evened the scales of justice and he and his family had been set free. The story of what a father would do for his children is what everyone got out of Isaiah’s book.
Christmas slashes
At first I saw the children.
Holy, holy, holy they screamed like angels.
Then I saw a black and white horse.
I also saw the great hoe. Oh she gave us all great pleasure. Even the angels.
The kings stood tall to rule the Earth, many of them found secrets to live forever.
That’s when I heard the Trumpet.
The great bombs brought everyone to their knees even the mighty pharaohs.
On a sea of gold I saw an army of churches.
Dressed in a purple robe he and his members stood tall they were ready to fight with their King.
They held hands with the children who gave their life to save others.
In the war against evil they stood in mass numbers— for this King of Kings somehow gave them no fear of death.
I could hear preaching in the distance, preaching of the Kingdom of heaven.
I saw people speaking in tongues, and passing out.
They left everything for this King, they gave up everything, they would die with no fear for him.
This King of Kings gave them unbelievable courage and strength.
He gave them the belief of another place far greater than the world.
They stood on the front lines and took a beating just as he did for them.
I saw them fight along side angels, dying, only to keep reproducing.
Dying, only to keep living.
Falling, only to keep rising like the sun.
Amazed, and in ahhhhh at his ever lasting strength.
I too fell to my knees in death only to rise again in an eternal kingdom of heaven.
I awoke from this dream a thousand times only to hear the sounds of Christ-Mass.
In remembrance of him the doors were open.
Christ-Mass
What a fellowship.
What a joy divine.
For a second I thought about adapting to the new generation. I actually thought about not celebrating Christmas this year, no traditional Santa hat, no Christmas trees in the store, no Christmas party and most of all no Christmas. It’s become apparent that I’m the new old guy and in a multicultural country the old traditions are fading fast. Sadly, Christianity is on the decline and to many the story of a savior seems to be fading also. Yes, the imagination that once led the world to believe in miracles has been hit with a sad darker side of human nature. I wrote this piece because it took a lot for me to drop my own human ambitions and humbly acknowledge Christ this year and keep my own family traditions alive. So here are my motives:
1. Christ tried to be of good service to the world so I keep doing good deeds. He talked about another life in an eternal heaven so I have to extend myself to that same belief.
2. In the story, Christ was born of a virgin mother in a manger so I must spread the good news to children that their birth is special too. Christ was crucified with a crown of thorns on his head and was humiliated in a sense to die so that we could be forgiven for our sins. So I wear a Santa hat as an old man sacrificing my time to keep the old characters and traditions alive.
3. Since everything has literally become a science, I continue to have Christmas parties every year to show the next generation that if we take the time to reflect on the story of Christ around this time of year we will comprehend the true message in the biblical sense. The message that beyond our imagination there is another world called heaven and if the old Christmas dies then that belief along with all of its customs, magic, and glory will fade.
The story of Christ has created heroes, life savers, and most of all hope.
Merry Christmas
In a dark cruel world if I can do anything right, it would be to keep the old Christmas alive.
As hard and humiliating as it is at times, I know that bravery comes in all forms and the moment that I become selfish and forget about the true meaning of the holiday then I too will fade.
Old Christmas
Sitting in a room with two scholars arguing over divinity and science I couldn’t help but notice my pet dog lift his leg up to take a piss on our Christmas tree. I quickly interrupted the argument as we all sat and watched the dog pee on the tree and then kindly shake his leg. He then decided to go lay on the Christmas rug to look out the window and watch the snow fall.
This was a special moment. It was clear that it was in the dog’s nature to not care. Now that he’d pissed on the tree it was his territory and there was nothing we could do about it.
Noticing my two friends end their conversation we all decided to squash the debate and just enjoy the holidays.
The Christmas Dog.
My room sat at the top of a skyscraper. Looking down I saw white snow on the ground. For a moment it felt like the spirit was gone. It felt as though the world stopped believing in anything. There was no magic. Now in my forties, I’d seen it all. Women with Santa hats on, kids believing in made up holiday stories. It was as though I’d been suffering from Christmas depression. After realizing that no one cared anymore to celebrate I stood on the ledge and looked down. I then looked up at the North Star and asked God for one more sign. Feeling the wind, I saw a shooting star. “What was the odds of that?” I said to myself.
“Maybe I should keep going, try and live until my body gives out,” I thought.
I needed something more, I’d done everything I could imagine. On my way to take the leap I couldn’t help but notice a note on the ledge. It read: “I too stood on this same ledge but Yahweh came in the form of a shooting star.”
After reading the note embedded in the metal ledge, I decided to step down. Hungry and poor with no money to pay my rent, I decided to go back to the fundamentals. I started reading my Bible myself and while navigating my endless mind I found the true joy and reason for the season. In that moment of truth my Christmas depression turned into The Christmas spirit. I found hope. I found a holiday for me to smile and waive at people I’d never met before. I found the most wonderful time of year never to contemplate suicide again. Yeshua saved me, he saved us all. What were the odds of an old story like his saving a reck like me?
