THE SAVE ACT 2026

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Honor, Please

(By R.P.Edwards)

Honor

Such a pesky thing

Requiring heart

And do

Much easier

To claim their ring

And blather tripe

In lieu...

Ron lay bleeding out on a colonial battlefield. It wasn't the musket ball that would end him (that Redcoat projectile merely disabled his right leg). No, it was the more accurate bayonet thrust that ripped his exposed middle and left him gasping and writhing a bit until the loss of blood completely stole his strength and caused his "nearly there" thoughts to blur. In his final moments he thought of family and faith along with a fading, desperate wish, "I hope it's worth it."

_______________

The above excerpt is, of course, a fantasy. But the sentiment has roots. It's a simple truth that the best of our "Republic" was birthed and has been maintained by the blood of its defenders. And one such "benefit," is our (the citizens') right to choose via the ballot. It is therefore so disheartening that so many oppose simple measures to be installed and adhered to that would guarantee that the "vote" is true and not muddied by those who would defraud us.

Funny, some advocate for paper ballots that would be harder to counterfeit by containing a "water mark." This would go along well with the blood mark that every, single, ballot bears.

The poem continues.....                              

...But heroes now

Are needed

This moment ours

To seize

So let's ask the Lord

For courage, much

And a side of Honor

Please

****

Got Jesus? 

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Blueberry muffins

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The Edge

(By R.P.Edwards)

Standing

Precarious

On the edge

Toes dangling in the breeze

This precipice, my latest test

I dare not cough or sneeze...

The warning sign was clear. The "Don't do it" glared at me as I prepared to do it anyway.

I'm a man, after all! I haven't lived all these years to be dissuaded by some lawyer-inspired admonition. "Spatula, come hither!"

______

Funny how little phrases can set us off. 

A short time ago I decided to make some Blueberry muffins (the kind with real, in the can, blueberries). These pastries were a regular delight when my children were still swarming in the house (decades ago).  Back then we needed TWO boxes (24 muffins worth). Now, one box is more than enough. 

Anyway, I bought the mix, dutifully followed the directions, and then ran across the "words" I didn't recognize: "Do not eat raw batter." Well, I had my eye on that goop all during the preparation and I wasn't going to let the minuscule (extremely) chance of a tummy ache keep me from imbibing. So, I defiantly, ravenously, ate every drop. 

And yes, I'm sure the makers were just covering their rears when said phrase was added. But let's not stop there. How about, "Wear gloves when opening can (better yet, Kevlar gloves)." Or, "Do not put head in oven." 

Alright, enough of this ridiculous aside. It DID, however, inspire a YouTube short (below.) BTW, the brand I chose was Krusteaz; quite delicious. 

The poem continues...

...But then I flinch

And flailing go

Though it's but a one-foot fall

And some may scoff

At my paultry Off

But before the heights...

Start small

****

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For the wounded many

 

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The Many

(by R.P.Edwards)

They're all around

In normal gowns

Yet beneath a gaping wound...

Not as motivated as in decades past (due to fewer wee ones about). BUT, a visit to "Papa's House" will be in the holiday mix, so the "tree" must go up.

Oh, it's a simple affair. One of those "lights already installed" numbers with a manageable height (short rather) for the addition of the ornaments; some of which are time capsules of children, and now grandchildren.

There is one, however, that is amongst the first that had a personal nature to it. It is a heart-shaped beauty that refers to a "love" between two, and a date, 1982.

Well, this particular remembrance has not exited the box for quite some time due to the removal of half the equation long ago. And I must admit, since I was NOT in favor of the fracture, the wound was deep...and long. 

But now, by God's grace, that's all in the past. However, I am mindful that there are many around us that are now bleeding a path wherever they go. Let us pause and be considerate of them. And let us be free to offer the Balm of Gilead.

The poem continues...

...So let's pause our walk

And perhaps touch and talk

And for the hurting one...make room

****

Got Jesus? (The Balm of Gilead) 

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For the love of Elon

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AI's Wake

(by R.P.Edwards)

A wonder

A marvel

A chapter, new

So much accomplished

But less of you

A compilation

Consensus brain

A surface symphony

Without the drain...

Oh, I'm a huge Elon Musk fan. HUGE! And I make no apology and have no qualms in saying that this brilliant fellow was (as is being) used of the Lord to help right this listing vessel of America.

But, this blog mainly has to do with the AI revolution in our midst. Mr Musk is a great advocate for this technology and, no doubt, advances can come quickly if the vast sum of human knowledge has an intuitive intellect mixed in. 

And, of course, perfection has not yet arrived. And, of course, those with evil intent will find ways to make the Terminator movies not such a far stretch after all. But, my immediate concern is just how many gifted sorts will be replaced so easily. In particular, writers, artists, musicians and singers. Oh yes, we've seen and heard the wonderful result of AI on our Social Media feeds. And, although we were impressed at first, now a jaded pallor slowly attends our visage as we must ask ourselves, again and again and again, "Is this real, or just an AI lie?" 

The poem continues...

...So mourn the many

In Asimov's wave

Washed away

Into the grave

The human soul

Computers take

And gone are we

In AI's wake

****

Got Jesus? 

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A novel by yours truly 

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The eternal struggle

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The struggle

(by R.P.Edwards)

Annual

Ever

Struggle

Me

Clothing

Cover

Must be free

Nature's bombast

Bend the knee!

Submit! Submit!

To Jack Frost's glee...

The blade, long, sharp, cold, and at my throat, caused my face to grimace and my muscles en masse to constrict.  "I must resist," I muttered as I tepidly reached for the silk-like covering. "It's not time. I WON'T let it be time!"

FROM THE OTHER ROOM, "For goodness sakes, Leonard! Put away the Hawaiian shirt and shorts and put on your coveralls! It's freezing out there!"

-------

It's an annual struggle; transitioning to cold-weather fare. I do so like my airy Hawaiian shirts (with their convenient pockets) and the shorts that complete the ensemble. And although I do not live in a far northern clime, where autumn arrives like a sledgehammer, this midwestern region can have extremes of temperature, and today the thermometer visited the freezing point (hear the northerners chuckle). 

I'm weakening. My Weather Bug app says a slight warming is coming, but I suspect Thanksgiving will find me showing less skin. Alas.

The poem continues...

...And so I bow

Resisted threads

To cover courage

So warmth is fed

But it won't be long

Winter's demise

The floral top

And shorts on thighs

****

Got Jesus? 

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A novel by yours truly 

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Halloween Controversy (again)

 

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And have no fellowship with the unfruitful works of darkness,

but rather reprove them. (Ephesians 5:11)

Be not overcome with evil, but overcome evil with good.

(Romans 12:21)

The depths

(by R.P.Edwards)

The depths of evil

Must we know?

To see the cuts

To grasp the flow?

To fill our mind

With vile things

Of devil bites

And demon stings?...

"I like your Jesus pumpkin," said the black-robed youngster as he walked away.

It was Halloween past and the annual debate on the "devil's day" was in full swing. On the one hand were my sincere Christian brothers and sisters who knew full well of the vile "depths" that birthed the memorial.  Some of these believed that even the benign deflection (trunk or treat?) was an error.  Better to just huddle and focus on the Savior (which, of course, is a good thing).

And then there was the other side; those who pretty much ignored any spiritual significance and thought dress-up and a sugar high were perfectly fine. 

Truth be told, I was in the former camp for a while, but now I use the diminishing day as an outreach of sorts. When my children were young I went with them to actually "meet" the neighbors (gasp). And now some treats with some Christian reminders seems appropriate. I'm sure the debate will continue.

The poem continues...

...How about, rather

Another view

To steer the focus

From false to true

To turn the gaze

To up above

To the giver of life

To the God of Love.

****

Got Jesus?  

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The Community has spoken

 

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Community Standards

(by R.P.Edwards)

Community standards

Afoul am I

To show the truth

When Christians die...

Windows Moviemaker. A Microsoft program that was around for a few years. I suppose it's been replaced by better tools, but it was what I was used to and the video, Jesus Christ is Lord, was born there. It survived for quite a while (around 14 years) on YouTube before AI (I presume) found the fatal flaw: some rather graphic photos of some martyred Christians. Upon my reexamination, I have to agree with the pulling.

Pity. It took a long time to put together the many photos and sync them up with the audio portion. This too was no small feat; involving some recording equipment and participation that is no longer possible. AND, alas, my recordings of such are either out of reach or beyond ready reproduction. So, the audio above is a copy of a copy of a copy. Not bad, really, when you consider it was done on the phone with the appropriate apps.

So, here's to Community Standards. Perhaps the relaunch of the rather old song (every bit of 45 years) will inspire someone. 

The poem continues...

...For the photos, unsettling

As they SHOULD be

But the truth remains

Though some can't see

PS  With the advent of AI magic, I KNOW I could simply plug the crude recording into an AI digestor and out would come a wonderfully polished phony. I'm resisting this trend. Resisting.

****

Got Jesus 

A talented Nephew's first novel 

A novel by yours truly 

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