A Convenient Escape
To blame God for everything really,
Man does in freedom on this Earth -
Is a Convenient Escape, logically,
For results that our human actions birth.
As all of us are born free to choose,
Decide to be king over our Fate,
Choices that we do to win or lose,
Mark the goals or traps that we create.
We are free to rise and maybe soar,
Free to wallow in Defeat and Pain,
Free to find dreams we are looking for -
Free to stand up and begin again.
We are not born puppets on some strings,
Unable to think and make our move.
We were created as intelligent beings!
We choose and decide, as our lives prove.
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poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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God Waits For You T0 Come
Jesus God, our Healer, Friend
Ever present loving Savior
Come to Him, all you who weary
Heavy laden, life survivors.
He will never turn you away
Just come and call upon His Name
You need not excellently pray
Be yourself, He'll take you just the same.
In life, we all go around searching
Like wandering sheep that go astray
When all the while the Lord is waiting
For us to come to Him today.
Your burden He is more than able
To carry, cure, and dissipate
For with God, nothing is impossible!
Don't lose your life, it is not too late.
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poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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The Other Woman
In Love there is strong competition
For the central focus in the heart of a man
Two things divert his male attention,
His lady love and 'the other woman'.
The surge of emotions will at first prevail
And his heart in a trance will follow,
Engrossed in enchantment that never fails
To drown his good reason and plans for tomorrow.
His endless love pledged in quick promises
The moon and the stars he will offer,
Drunk in the ecstasy of her sweet kisses
Even his name he will not remember.
But touch 'the other woman' in his life
Instantly he goes back to his senses,
Guarded like gold with the sharpest knife
His grip so strong and so are his defenses.
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poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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Set Free!
Do you know how it is to be free?
I'm not talking of finite human rules
That complicate our life in trumpery
And flood these basal earth with fools
With motives naked of coercion
Allow me then this moment's piece
Experience is the better option
And from there, I will explain this
In forty -five years of fake religion
I assumed that I knew all of God
But like many lost in that Deception
An outside impression was all I had
All those years I was chained in anger
Plagued by fears and uncertainties
The unforgiving, wretched prisoner
Too proud to seek that inner Peace
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poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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The Truly Lost Ones
They cloak themselves with piety
Trying hard to gain holiness
But worship stones in Idolatry
Having no idea of God's real Presence.
You reason out that they are human
And as all men are prone to Sin
But God gave us His Word to understand
Transformation comes from within.
For Christ came to die on that Cross
That we may have mercy and forgiveness
All men have sinned and suffered loss
By His Death we gained heaven's access.
For it's by Grace we have been saved
Through Faith and not of good things we do
Religion changed all Truth God gave
And presented other gods to you.
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poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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Dots
A dot on paper was analyzed
The lawyer viewed such evidence
For all legalities, scrutinized
Then ably wrote his structured defense.
'The dot is proof of serious grime
No doubt there was intrusion
Allow me to pinpoint the morbid crime
That will lead to the prosecution.'
Next came the languid aging preacher,
He searched for erroneous doctrine
Examined the pristine paper
And the corrupting dot therein.
'There is much here spiritually
The white of paper was transgressed,
It is the dot of immorality
And repentance must be addressed.'
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poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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The Nun Changed My Mind
At that young age, impressionable -
I was very submissive to their rules
Like earthly gods who were irascible
Those convent dictators made us fools.
At their command we knelt for hours
Before what they called 'God' in a wafer
Faith in that doctrine withered like flowers
As my trust on those nuns would soon waver.
At their clap we genuflected like robots
In silent, unquestioning obedience
But their cold stony faces showed us not
A vague tinge or a hint of God's Presence.
One day, I remember some school program
When our number was over, I took the stairs
A nun standing there lost her temper said 'Damn! '
The fierce rage in her face raised my hair.
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poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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A New David for America
Because he led a righteous movement
To cleanse the language from much cursing
Some people hate and threats were sent
But this young man, God will be holding.
No weapon formed against him prosper
The Lord will be his Sun and Shield
The Mighty God be his Deliverer
To Him all enemies will yield.
Curses said within the Land
Have borne fruit with rage and violence
Evil had thrived and gone out of hand
God raised this young man now to cleanse.
Like David he is facing big Goliaths
With verbal tentacles laced in curses
They will rant and rage in vicious aftermath
But they face the God of Heaven's forces.
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poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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The Avocado Mutiny
I'll tell you a little secret
Girls don't usually tell
Childhood days I can't forget
When I was eight, oh well.
We were a group of five kids
Around the country neighborhood.
A lot of naughty things we did,
They were not really very good.
We'd climb the avocado trees
Pretend we were some pirate.
We'd swing each branch with naval ease,
And give a shout 'Hi Ho there Mate! '
I was their Missy Captain
Who steered the verdant ship.
We'd fight the foe with broken canes,
Who'd dare to cross my helmsmanship.
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poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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From Emptiness to Fullness
From out of the depth of emptiness
His hand reached out in Divine Love,
My soul to ransom from its death,
With mercy show the way above.
He led me to my crucifixion
Of self and doubt and blinded pride.
To die there in my Calvary
With my Lord and Savior by my side.
Without my cross there is no filling
No Holy Spirit there residing,
My Self is slain there on that hill
For God, He did the resurrecting.
He cannot fill what He cannot have
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poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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