Taken from the Bible Tale. Amazon Kindle.

Atop the Mount.

It had been a hard day for the bearded man, his followers. The sun beat down, unrelenting. A hilltop beckoned. Peter, the strongest, was concerned.

“We have to rest.”

The bearded man smiled.

“You can rest in Sheol if you like.”

The people here need something important.”

“What do you mean?”

The bearded man looked at him, smiling.

“The core of my message Peter. The true reason I am here now. Generations will debate my message, you will hear it for real.”
Peter, a fisherman, did not understand. The bearded man ascended the hill, swung round. Arms lifted towards heaven. The disciples looked on. Sunlight glared down. He spoke to the people.

“If you are spiritually poor, heaven belongs to you! If you are mourning, God will comfort you. The deceased will return, if you ask. If you are humble, God will reward you.”

He paused. Watching the reaction.

“If you do what God desires, that wish will be satisfied. Show mercy to others. God will show mercy to you. If you have a pure heart, you WILL see God.”

He paused again. The sun beat down. No clouds.

“God’s children are those who work for peace. If you are persecuted for carrying out God’s wishes, heaven belongs to you!”

He paused, stopped. Peter asked a question.

“What does this mean?”

The bearded man smiled. Thought. Answered.

“Exactly what it says Peter. The dead are not dead.”

The disciples looked puzzled. The bearded man laughed.

“Don’t worry. You think too hard.”Gabriel, standing close, watching.
Understood completely. 

Lazarus.

The bearded man had been told of his friend’s death. With his followers in tow, he headed for Bethany. As they approached, he saw many Judeans’ in mourning, dressed in black.

The tears were heartfelt and mournful. Martha approached. Her tear stained face turned up towards him.

“He has been dead these past four days. You should have come sooner.”

The bearded man smiled, shaking his head.

“Your brother, my true friend, is only sleeping.”
Martha was shocked. His followers were shocked. He felt the fury of the people at his glib remark. A man from Judea came rushing in, rock in hand. Peter moved to stop him. The bearded man ignored it.

“Do not be untrusting when I say he only sleeps. Lazarus will rise again.”

Some priests, dispatched from the Sanhedrin shouted their defiance.
The bearded man walked forward, the crowd fell back. He knelt, he prayed. Some in the crowd wept.

Standing once more, arms aloft in supplication the bearded man shouted, “Lazarus come forth.”

The crowd fell silent. No one spoke. The bearded man watched. The darkness of the tomb was plunged into light as a shrouded figure appeared. The followers cried out, his family cried out. Lazarus remained silent.

“Remove the tomb clothing. My friend lives.”

They ran and did what was asked.

Later, many miles away, Peter asked a question.

“Why was he raised? What is the meaning?”

The bearded man looked grave.

“Man will kill my friend to silence him.”

Peter was shocked as the bearded man wept.
“Leave me.”

Peter did. Within his heart, his soul, the bearded man knew time was up.

During ww2, the US military did test a new form of invisibility shield. A good idea with German subs, warships on patrol.

The shield was created by strong electric currents, creating a powerful magnetic field.

To the horror of the observers, the ship and crew vanished.

It was seen in an English dockyard 30 mins later before vanishing again. This was reported in local press under ghost headline. It was not censored because UK did not know of experiment.

When ship returned to the US dockyard, emergency crews found most of crew dead. Some welded to the deck.

After this disaster, the experiment was never repeated. The scientist behind it was disgraced.

Footnote.

In 2005, US Navy deployed warship invisible to enemy radar using stealth technology.

A little safer for the crew.

The full moon has risen again
though I need it not.
I change every night.
The full moon was just the first time.

As it rose above the wooded glade
my body grew hair.
My body grew a snout and snarling teeth.
My body hungered for flesh.

I soon found the heartless wench.
Standing on the corner of the
silent village.
Selling her wares, herself.

I struck quickly, teeth smashing
through tortured bone.
Tearing through bloody
sinews.

Feeding like the carnivore
that I am.
Feeding until only a
pile of ripped flesh remained.

Soaked in evil blood.
Not my evil though.
The evil of my victims.
Fallen women.

Tonight I shall feed again.
Looking forward to ripping
The clothes from the filthy body.
Tearing her limb from limb.

Savouring the deep flavour of her
flesh, her blood.
Licking it from her warm silent corpse
before skulking back to my digs. My home.

Beware me, the werewolf.
The bringer of sudden, violent death.
The bringer of sorrow.
The bringer of justice.

Darkness has fallen. Floors creak, doors
open and close, as the icy draught
streaks across your trembling cheeks.
This home has a visitor.

As you hide beneath your
warm covers and sheets,
you hear the almost silent
footsteps coming to your door.

You listen in terror as the handle rattles,
as it slowly turns, as your door opens.
You risk a peek and see no one.
Only an open door.

Footsteps approach your bed as
your naked skin chills rapidly.
Fingers from the tomb, trace across
your knee-cap. Your thigh.

You kick out at nothing.
You kick out as a heavy hand slaps
your cheek hard.
You are lying now upon your back.

Sheets rise and form a human shape.
You scream but do not.
Cold sweat dripping from your brow.
The sheets rise to the ceiling and stop.

Hellish laughter breaks
out. Insane laughter.
A sudden pain strikes your
Arm and you wake.

You are safe now.
Safely tied up in your
straight jacket.
Taken care of.

There are no ghosts here.
Just the ghosts of your own
unstable mind.
Of your own imagination.

Timothy had seen better days.
Walking the streets in his
shabby suit as shoppers
ignored him.

Even their pets ignored him
as he shuffled past painfully.
None knew of his gangrous foot
brought on by cold and human sweat.

He reached the wall, separating the
living from the dead and stopped.
Someone was watching, staring even.
Dressed in cassock and dog collar.

The person came over slowly.
Smiling.
“Hello old timer.”
Timothy stared back in silence.

“What do you really want from life?”
Timothy thought hard.
“A nice home, a wife, and kids
would be nice.”

The person produced a
wad of paper.
“Just sign here.”
Timothy signed without thinking.

What harm could it do?
Five years passed and everything
promised had come to pass.
He was happy, living in a happy home.

He walked that day, back to the wall
and saw the person, dressed as before.
Timothy wanted to thank him.
The person shook his head.

“Five years are up Timothy.
Time to go.”
Timothy watched in stunned silence
As the costume faded and Satan stood before him.

Smiling to himself.
As the gates of hell took his soul
poor Timothy realised that he had
been tricked.

The Faustian deal had been completed.
The Devil took on that costume again.
Waiting and watching from that wall
separating the living from the dead.

Well, hijack usually happens after login...I have the microsoft and one other defence system...As I said, the offending site is auto-blocked...

Can you fill the void in my bleeding heart?
Can you fill the hole left by that terrible harpy?
Are you capable?
Sometimes I wonder.

There you sit staring, a thing
of terrible memory.
Silently staring as tears streak down
my bony cheeks.

You are doing it again now.
Do you exist?
A haunting memory perhaps?
A cry from the depths of my empty soul?

That smirk upon the face
f evil says it all really.
You know why you are here.
Keeping me in the dark.

As you always do.
Sitting in that blue jumper
staring with lifeless eyes.
That evil grin.

Can you be exorcised?
Can you be removed?
Are you destined to haunt me forever?
Why me indeed?

I see you now staring.
I see you glancing.
I see you as clear as day.
I know you are here, with me.

My heart bleeds again for you.
The torrent of salt shall flow.
Not my fault really.
Just me.

One day I may join that memory
laugh and cry.
Sit as you sit now.
Simply staring.

My computer has id site as LOOKOUT MOVIES.COM.

Also no malware detected.

DO NOT GO THERE!

I DON'T.!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Taken from The Bible Tale on Amazon..I am the author!

Day of Baptism.

Dark hair looked dusty now, his followers tired and thirsty, wandering over the red hot coals of the desert country. They followed him because they wanted to, not because of pious faith. That would come later.

The cool river flowed across the Jordan Valley, whispering its secret message for future generations. As he walked with bleeding feet, he saw his target yonder. Another group was there, shouting.
Across the hillock they came in their hundreds, harking to the call from their tortured souls. They came to see the hermit, the ragged one. The one whom the priests called mad. What did they know?

The small group arrived, some fishermen, one a carpenter from Galilee. They stumbled through the waiting crowds who parted at the strangeness of the bearded one. Hair and beard covered in thick white dust. They all had beards.

The hermit looked as he entered the waters, and knelt without a word. The hermit was shocked. He would kneel before me?
The bearded one just smiled and said, “Let it be so.”

The hermit cleansed him, as he had cleansed so many these past months. He saw the crowds, he saw the future, his time was up.

“Pray for me.”

The bearded man stood.

“I pray for everyone.”

The hermit watched them leave, a heavy heart weighing him down.

For the bearded one, life would not be easy. His path of thorns would wound him so badly, it would last forever.

For the hermit, the crowds still came. The cleansing continued.
The bearded man was gone. 

The Rising.

Jairus knew his daughter was dead. Gone to Sheol, so he believed.

The breath had stopped, the chest had stopped rising. He still wanted her back. As he stood there, beside her still body, he prayed to his god, Yahweh, for deliverance.

In the silence, he heard the reply. Send a messenger. He did so.

Soon after a bearded man arrived. Others followed.

“Why are you here?” he demanded.

“Your daughter is not dead.”

The father was stunned.

“I know she is dead! How dare you!”

“You are so much in sorrow, yet you cannot believe Isaiah’s prophecy.”

“That the dead will rise?”

“Precisely.”

His followers hung their heads.

“Now leave Jairus.”

The father, soul stripped with sorrow did so. He only wanted his loving daughter back.

“Alone, dark shadows around, the bearded man spoke.

“Talitha, Koum.”

Her eyes opened, her mouth opened to speak. The bearded man hushed her.

“You have been drawn back from the land of the dead. Won’t your father be amazed.”

The daughter smiled. The bearded man left the room.

“Your daughter has been restored to you.”

The father, desperate now, cried like a child. The bearded man walked through the door.

“Where to now?” his followers asked.

“We go now to be rejected my man. Come and learn my Father’s ways.”

The followers did not understand. That was the point.

They were never meant to.

Whenever I log on here, a rogue site attempts a high jack. Thankfully my security system blocks it, identifying it as malicious...Has anyone else had similar problem?

They stood within the graveyard,
as rain beat down upon their
covered heads. Necromancers,
whom the dead obeyed.

The headstone stood in
that quagmire of mud.
Quiet and silent as the
words of resurrection were pronounced.

They watched as the clods of
earth moved and sifted. As
hands struggled free of
the wet grave.

They stood as the corpse stood,
waiting for the inevitable torrent
of questions.
They came in time.

The glistening corpse listened intently,
then spat the answers in time
with their trembling hearts.

The necromancers were satisfied now.
They uttered words, expecting the
guest to return.
This he did not do.

He stood resolute and solemn,
ignoring their desperate words.
Ignoring their pleas.
He stood resolute.

Waiting for help.
The yard erupted then.
Spewing out the grisly dead.
The necromancers tried to run.

Caught by garish fingers which
ripped them open like tin cans.
Teeth that tore and chewed their
bloody entrails.

Only bone remained now.
Bone glistening in the rain
as the dead returned to
rest once more.

When dawn broke, the legend
upon the stone could be seen.
Ignored perhaps by the victims.
Do not disturb.

The oak coffin sat upon its plinth
as the weeping mourners looked on.
As the priest droned on with his
incomprehensible babble.

Babbling his platitudes which
most here could not understand.
As angels looked on
with fearful shaking heads.

The body lay still and silent as the
hymns were sung. Perhaps
disagreeing with their choice.

Even as dark clouds gathered overhead
the mourners sang their hearts out.
Screeching to heaven, unaware,
that the Almighty was not listening.
 
Could not be listening for
this fallen soul.
The mourners sat in prayer now
as a distant rumble grew ever closer.

Even as the prayer droned on regardless,
the rumble ripped through that ancient church.
Chairs shook the mourners out of
their lethargy as the plinth shook violently.

As the box of dread crashed to the floor, and
the women screamed in terror.
The corpse was seen to rise as the
priest abandoned his God and the weeping.

The putrid face of hate snarled, and the
oozing mouth spat the accusation.
To an empty church, an empty room,
an empty world.

The church has been pulled down now.
Never to know what the corpse had said.
Never to know the bleeding hearts
that had fled in terror.

Upon the site stands a garden of
flowers that never seem to last.
Perhaps the very ground is
cursed now.

Perhaps shunned by the Almighty,
who watched the corpse rise and
make the accusation.
And did nothing!

In a dark clearing when the moon was bright and full
The witches of old would play the fool.
Dancing naked before their lord
Whipping their bodies with a cord.

The goat would stand and proudly observe
their evil acts, fully deserved.
Human sacrifice, acts so vile
their dark souls forever reviled.

Acts for them the power to bring
not realising the evil sting.
Damned forever, damned for all time
to lie forever in the slime.

Never to know the light of day
Never to know the true Lord’s day.
The Sabbath continues to this very day
those who dabble will surely pay.

Thanks...Jerrix the Cat is my favourite really...The moggy has E books on Amazon, her own films on U Tube and a page on Facebook.

Yes my poems can be tear jerking...This reflects my true feelings...

Hope you continue to follow...

If you are feeling slightly down, the following prayer will help.

“Heavenly Father, as I sleep tonight on this bed of thorns, please infuse me with your love and healing energy. When I wake on the morrow, I will see the world as though see it...Amen..."

The cloud of darkness around your life
which grips your soul in an iron vice.
Was summoned to you from the depths of hell
where eternal evil shall always dwell.

It rose from your own unspeakable deeds
that filthy life which you now lead.
That life of sordid, sexual acts
a deal with Satan, that fatal pact.

It whirls around like a dervish on heat
unseen by many upon your seat.
It’s drawing close so look around
that dervish is like the devil hound.

Blazing eyes and foaming teeth
moving closer and about to leap.
To take you down and back to hell
where my dear you truly dwell.

Thanks mate...PS...If you have a cat, make it a tent..I have a blanket folded over the sofa...Cat climbs inside and loves it...All the best...Really mean that...

My life is almost over now,
life ripped asunder.
Torn to shreds by
Life, by misery.

I sit here waiting.
Waiting for the fatal
clot to move.
To end the misery.

It will in time,
though time is forever.
Like a clock ticking down
to zero.

Threw the tablets away you see,
accepting the inevitable.
Accepting the limits
of my existence.

There is a time to die,
a time to be born,
my time is almost nigh.
At last.

Forgive me oh God for
taking this decision.
I could not help it.
My bleeding heart demanded recompense.

Recompense for misery.
Recompense for hurt.
Recompense for being too trustful.
Recompense for being here.

As I stare death in the face,
I fear no evil.
Evil does not exist.
Not in my philosophy.

I shall transcend.
I shall enter the light.
I shall rest from life’s cruel
Injustice.

I shall be happy, forever.

The graveyard is a harsh place
where memories are jostled.
Some of happier times,
others of dark foreboding.

Within such places,
Where the dead lie quiet,
Others do not.
They wake as the sun sets.

A lonely traveller often meets
with these denizens of putrid
horror.
Caught alone and unaware.

Left for dead along a wooded track
where flies and mites invade the
indecent corpse.
Until he rises too.

The veil hides not these
unspeakable entities.
As they prowl beyond the
cemetery wall for our living blood.

Often in much older places
than our clean fields of corpses.
Often in unhallowed ground,
unhallowed because the church has closed.

These dark places were feared by
our ancestors and rightly so.
They knew what lurked beyond
the veil of death.

A mist rises and forms as the
creature escapes the horrid
box.
Vermin flee at the ungodly apparition.

Not quite ghost, nor mortal.
Certainly not dead.
Un-dead would be better.
A drinker of human blood.

Crossroads are forbidding places
Where ancient denizens lurk.
Murderers were hanged here in
ancient times.

Murderers were buried here in
deep fear.
When they rose, they were
confused by the location.

So the judge and cleric would tell you.
Not so.
The damned would soon find
a hapless victim.

The cycle of death would begin again.
And again.
Until some villages perished altogether.
Out of mind, out of sight.

Until our modern day,
when the bloodthirsty dead
lurk in the dark places.
In the veil beyond death.

I wander through the streets,
passersby glancing fearfully.
I turn and hiss, spitting
with disgust.

I see the drunks dropping
their chips upon the ground
as I tiptoe past.
Looking for a mouse.

I spy one dashing across the
busy road.
Giving chase and snarling viciously.
It darts for the drain, for the sewer.

My paw strikes hard and it rolls.
My open jaws sink into the
warm flesh as I dart for safety.
A bus nearly had me then.

Panting somewhat, I find a dark
place. A safe place. To have my
meal.

I eat as humanity wanders past.
The warped humanity of today.
Unlike the Egyptians who rightly
worshipped us as gods.

I finish before heading home
once more. Back to the warm
fire. Back to a loving home.

Back to the womb.