A Heart Of Notes

PASSION PROSE MUSIC TREASURE Journal On Fire

This journal describes my deepest and innermost desires. My desire to love, hate, create, give in return, receive, and to experience joy. This journal touches on my most firm beliefs, my spirituality, determination to succeed, and my destiny. What makes this journal so unique? Open your ears. Listen so that your heart may be enlightened with understanding. Take a look
at the imagery above. They may be referred to as symbols in their relation to meaning, but I want to apply the term "effigy." Now, according to Bouvier's Law Dictionary, Revised 6th Ed (1856), effigy is the figure or representation of a person with an intent to make him the object of ridicule. However, for the sake of context I will substitute effigy for symbol.

My heart, mind, soul, and my body has is quickened by the breath of life that God has given me so that I could be a living soul. Genesis 2:7 Everything that I take in spiritually, mentally, or physically is will be either my health, or my death. This theological statement is given by illustration of the glass of blood that you see in the top left hand corner. I have written poetry, lyrics, and music also. All 3 is my reflection on things in life that I have control over and the things that I have no control over, and even my reflection on life itself. Each day that I awake from my sleep (in my dreams as well) I cannot avoid the fact that I am a passionate artist. I write about everything that I feel and experience, or want to experience with the intent to create a beautiful picture. If the experience is not so good, then I paint a solution until a beautiful picture is created. That is how I live also. I am indeed an artist. I have a heart.
The flower that you see above is my existence in this world. All flowers have a lifespan, and they will one day whither away. My purpose in this life will be fulfilled before I whither if God is willing.

If in fact my existence or lifespan is limited to time, then I believe that I cannot depend on myself to fulfill any purpose whatsoever, but that I must trust in the one who is not limited to time, and whose life is not that of a flower - God eternal. Ps. 90: 2 I have celebrated Christmas, Thanksgiving, Valentines day, and Memorial day these last days. Gifts are either given or received in observation and celebration of these holidays, but why not celebrate the life of Jesus Christ in line with the reason he came into this world as opposed to the raw fact that he came (Christmas). He came so that I may have life and have it more abundantly. That is my purpose in this life time, even as a "flower." 1peter1:24
The majority of the songs that I have written expresses my ideas about love and what love is. I believe that love is the greater factor and motive in contrast to any other motive. The inspiration that I got to write poetry and songs is centered on love. Joy, peace, and goodwill come as a result of it, and for these God is willing. "Good will toward man (peace). Take a look at the music notes placed just beneath the cup of blood. The notes are the words of expression. They are expressed in my writings and compositions in view of my beliefs. Although I do not try to impose what I believe on others, yet I aim to make an impression upon other's beliefs. I believe that the God that I serve has the grace and power to help anyone who wants help from him, and I express that through my obedience and worship to him by loving others the same way he loved me by giving his son Jesus Christ to be a servant, and obedient to God's will even unto death. The purpose was so that I might live. This was his love for me. I give my life for my fellow man.

POISON: Don't be fooled by imitations. There is a such thing as discernment. It is important to one's health to have the understanding and acuteness of good judgement and truth. It is impossible to have good judgement without truth. For me, I know that Jesus Christ is the truth, and not to step on anyone's toes who don't believe that, everything that is not of truth is simply an imitation of the truth. Many people today are fighting for rights that they should not be fighting for. How can anybody honestly say that they love their kids or anybody's kid for that matter when they support gay rights, or gay marriage? I don't want my kids to grow up with that misguided and fake expression of what love is. If we love children and want them to grow up and have families themselves, how can they do that if they are married to the same sex? We should weigh the consequences of what we believe with the actions that we take. Yet, people who support such rights believe that they truly love the person they're with without taking the time to consider the fact that noone was made to please himself. Every man must love his wife even as he loves himself, and the wife must....Ephesians 5:33
Each day is a blessing from God saying, "I LOVE YOU." Treasure IT
And each day is an opportunity for us to say, "I love you" back. Treasure that! Jesus expressed this in a statement he made to his disciples when he said that whatsoever work your hands find to do do it with your might, for there is no work in the grave where you will go [paraphrased]; Ecclesiastes 9:10
There is no greater gift than eternal life in Christ Jesus, but until then, life here must be preserved, and the best way to do that is by making good judgement which is learned by trusting in the true judge. I fight for the right for serve the Lord my God without having to be oppressed. I fight for the right to help and do for another human being as I would do for myself without having to face persecution by the enemy. And I fight for the right of anyone else to do the same regardless of race or origin. I fight for the right to have my child kept in a school system that teaches morality, self-respect, and respect for others along with a good education, and not devious worldly teachings. You ask yourself this.
"What does all of this have to do with poetry, art, music, and songwriting?" To answer that question we must first define art. What is art? Wikipedia: "Art is the process or product of deliberately arranging elements in a way that appeals to the senses or emotions. ' I won't go too far. Wikipedia goes too far off into detail. We both can agree that humans possess both senses and emotions. Mine are produced by Jesus Christ when I am obedient to his word, and when I do otherwise, my senses and emotions are sidetracked to a wrong path, but nevertheless, they are expressed in my poetry, music, songwriting, and actions. Love is the motivation behind all that I do. I don't hate. The only thing that I hate is wrong-doing. PROSE Each day is a blessing from God saying, "I LOVE YOU." That is how I live also. TREASURE My heart, mind, soul, and my body has is quickened by the breath of life that God has given me so that I could be a living soul. Genesis 2:7 Everything that I take in spiritually, mentally, or physically is will be either my health, or my death.
PASSIONbut why not celebrate the life of Jesus Christ in line with the reason he came into this world as opposed to the raw fact that he came (Christmas). He came so that I may have life and have it more abundantly. That is my purpose in this life MUSIC My desire to love, hate, create, give in return, receive, and to experience joy. I treasure these things in song, art, composition, and in my heart. For it is written, "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart......"Mark 12:28-30)

Please inform me of your thoughts on this entry and I will surely appreciate your comments.

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♥ MiSs KrYsTa ♥ | MySpace

♥ MiSs KrYsTa ♥ | MySpace

Trial Witness

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I lived with my parents in a small home in Adairville, Kentucky on main street. This was a while back, I'd say in 1979. The population was about 3,000,000 people. I was 9 years old. As a small effort to meet new kids and make new friends, I happened to run into a young guy, Nick, who lived just 2 houses down from mine, and Jaicara, a sharp-witted sister, 12 years old, and very nice looking for her age. They were new to the neighborhood as well I was. After getting aquainted, we became a bad little group of young people who thought that causing trouble was the way to have fun and enjoy ourselves while our parents were at work. During that time, our parents were very strict. We were not allowed outside after 8:00pm. We decided that we were going to break the curfew rule one night. I convinced them to do it-as a matter-of-fact we stayed out until 9:30. The 3 of us went walking down deserted streets in a rural-looking town, in a neighborhood where kids were reportedly missing due to kidnapping, and where there were many robberies and assaults. This is the one time in history when the lesson of obedience was crucial, particularly to parents. After walking by a house that used to be a funeral home with thin, tinted windows, located off the main street, and somewhat in a closed section, we heard very loud screaming which went on for about 15 seconds. And as nosey as we were, we walked up to the windows to try and get a peek at what was going on. No other adults were around. From my vague memory of the detailed description, I saw a shadow of what appeared to be a lady with long hair in a compromising position, and another shadow of a masculine figure leaning over her with a long pointy object. One of my friends, Jaicara was so scared she urged us to leave, and started backing away while Nick and I were too pre-occupied with closed doors. Within the last five seconds of the screams all we could see was this the masculine figure holding what appeared to be a knife as long as a dagger moving high up in the air and descending as fast as a falling snowflake land right on top of the lady. All of a sudden my heart nearly froze and I was out of breath. My body heat went up until I started sweating, and my legs were weak. After finding the strength to turn my head to look at my friends, I realized that they were already gone. I was then alone. Yet, I continued to watch from a distance, looking through the window of the house, and not one car was passing by for me to signal for help. The time then was about 10:00pm. Finally, the worst thing happened. The male figure inside the house started looking around until it, or he, looked straight toward the widow where I was standing. Before I could holler "HELP!" I was the next potential victim. The killer started running out of the back door of the house toward me. I had to literally force my feet to run, because I was terrified and shaking to the point of idle motion, but I had only one ultimatum - run or die. So I ran. I started off a little slow but miraculously picked up speed almost the same as a fast bike. I tried screaming while I was running, but looking back I could see the stranger in the mask trailing me half the speed I was running. Nobody seemed to hear me, unfortunately there weren't any passing vehicles at that moment, and not one police siren to be heard. I was running for my life at night in the deserted streets where maybe a little light from a marquee shone in my face with no other light from anywhere else to support it was present. While I was running, I could barely see the long knife the stranger was chasing me with. Not only did it have blood on it, but the knife itself was shining - yes, shining so well that I could almost see reflections on it. That was only possible when I was passing by a few lit porches that had night lights which were bright enough for me to see what I was running from. I luckily glanced over and saw an abandoned building that looked looked like a secretly built prison. I was a pretty good distance away from familiar territory. I ran inside and hid in what appeared to be a hole in the bottom part of the wall near the dirty floor covered with asbestos. The walls looked historical, and the toilet and sink were decorated with vomit and feces. I crawled into that hole to hide only to discover that on the inside of the wall where I was, there was actually more room for me to crawl until I could go no further away from the entrance of the hole. Be it not, but in all fear, there were footsteps on the other side. They sounded like shoes walking on sand - very clear and distinctive. Then, all of a sudden I heard what sounded like a chipping away at hardstone blocks, but identical to an ice pick. Fortunately, the wall of brick was too strong, and the hole was too small for the size of the assumed killer that was chasing me. No, I never slept. The sounds stopped after several minutes, but I wasn't dumb enough to crawl back through the hole. At the very least daylight did appear after an X-amount of hours and minutes. Too shocked to think about food or water, and lightly traumatized to think clearly, I was gradually moving towards the hole to free myself of my own imprisonment. It took a lot of courage for me to stick my head through to see if I could spot any signs of the killer. However, I did see Shoeprints blended in with the germy floor and whatever else was on it. I squeezed back to the outside of the wall where I once again was before. I did run, but not as fast this time. There was that glorious sunlight in my face and passing cars. Next, there were more people looking outside their windows. I heard a police car. The only thing on my mind now was the trouble I was in from wandering away from home. For the sequel to the rest of this story, please contact me. email: songwriterforartists@yahoo.com\par
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