Tag Archives: God

Will you Hate Me Forever, If I Told You The Truth?

Mm ba ba de
Um bum ba de
Um bu bu bum da de
Pressure pushing down on me
Pressing down on you no man ask for
Under pressure – that burns a building down
Splits a family in two
Puts people on streets
Um ba ba be
Um ba ba be
De day da
Ee day da – that’s o.k.
It’s the terror of knowing
What this world is about
Watching some good friends
Screaming ‘Let me out’
Pray tomorrow – gets me higher
Pressure on people – people on streets
Day day de mm hm
Da da da ba ba
O.k.
Chippin’ around – kick my brains around the floor
These are the days it never rains but it pours
Ee do ba be
Ee da ba ba ba
Um bo bo
Be lap
People on streets – ee da de da de
People on streets – ee da de da de da de da
It’s the terror of knowing
What this world is about
Watching some good friends
Screaming ‘Let me out’
Pray tomorrow – gets me higher high high
Pressure on people – people on streets
Turned away from it all like a blind man
Sat on a fence but it don’t work
Keep coming up with love
but it’s so slashed and torn
Why – why – why ?
Love love love love love
Insanity laughs under pressure we’re cracking
Can’t we give ourselves one more chance
Why can’t we give love that one more chance
Why can’t we give love give love give love give love
give love give love give love give love give love
‘Cause love’s such an old fashioned word
And love dares you to care for
The people on the edge of the light
And love dares you to change our way of
Caring about ourselves
This is our last dance
This is our last dance
This is ourselves
Under pressure
Under pressure
Pressure.

Word.

Tis’ the season of love is it not?  I wrote a status a while ago. Then recently I wrote another similar to the first:

I really don’t care if you’re gay or straight. 

I don’t even care of you’re slim or overweight. 
If you’re white or Latino, black or Filipino, you know none of that stuff really matters to me. 
Only thing worth knowing is God’s love, is free.

Then…I saw this and I had to share.

“It doesn’t matter if you’re atheist or Christian, Hindu or Muslim, straight, gay, transsexual, black or white, or anything and everything between. I love you. I care about you as people, as individuals. You are not targets to convert. You are people that I love and people I want to invest in. I want to love you in the best way I know how – and that’s loving you how Jesus does. Unconditionally. ♥”–Julianna Pardue

Many say I am an inspiration. I cannot claim that without feeling humbled greatly. But I will say love is indeed my greatest inspiration. And is the reason I do what I do. God’s Love. This is no preaching. Far from it.

Sometimes the very quote that you’re seeking out for inspiration…is in your very own heart.

Merry Christmas.

 

 

the title of this blog post was written by my wife Jennifer for a song we are writing.

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Stop. Seriously.

I was hanging a picture up for my daughter, she’s five, and she started singing. She likes “Moves Like Jagger.” It’s her Maneater.*

I’ve heard her before, but maybe because everything else was quiet, I listened. My daughter can sang. I’m not just saying that because she’s my daughter. But because I’m a singer. My dad is a singer. It runs in the family.

That’s not the point.

Point is… hearing her precious little voice made me think of how very awful it would be to hear her cry. I mean, she’s cried before. She’s had her shots. She’s been upset. My wife and I have consoled her. But I mean, cry from within. I thought of how terrible it would be to have her abused. Or hurt. Emotionally. Mentally. To have her heart saddened. I know in life every one must endure some sadness and pain. We can learn and many times, grow from life’s trials and tribulations. It’s part of this whole living thing.

Without chaos, how can we know how strong we are?

Continue reading


This Message Brought To You By Hope

This quick message brought to you by Hope, perseverance and the letter T.

If you have an idea for a story.

If you have a picture you want to draw.

If you have an idea for a movie, or t.v. show.

If you have a sermon to share.

If you have a song to sing.

If you think you can.

If you…

believe you can…

Aspire no more,

and walk through that open door.

Continue reading


When I say, “I’m A Writer”…I Mean It.

A girl in a red cloak…running. Sounds simple enough, right? It was…or at least I thought it was. She wouldn’t leave me alone.

She screamed, “Tymothy…you write!?”

Surprised, I answered her. “Uhh, yeah sort of. I mean I have ideas…but…”

“Shut up!” she interrupted. “Listen! You hear that?” she asked me.

I looked behind her towards the darkness and yes…as I focused on the muted grumbling in the distance it became quite clear what I was hearing. Blood lust. 

“Alright!” she yelled. “We don’t have a lot of time! Come on!” she grabbed my arm and pulled me away from the oncoming thunderous sound of…wolves.

“Are those?” I began.

“Yes! You write?”

“I told you, sort of!”

“Not good enough! Do it!” she was growing more impatient and for obvious reasons. She left my side and jumped high into the trees. “The stories! They’ll come to you! Write about us!” she cried then disappeared. 

As I stared at the last spot she stood the wolves drew in closer. They looked surprised to see me but they salivated none the less. 

“Boy…you mind tellin’ us ‘oo you is?” one of the enormous creatures asked.

“Where’s the…the girl?” snapped another.

As I looked at them and their various razor-lined teeth…it hit me.

I looked at my left-hand and saw a pen. I clutched it tightly and lifted my head to them. They realized who I was and they cowered in their fur. “It’s…it’s the Writer!” one of the wolves yelled in dismay.

“Yeah,” I began, “and you guys are in trouble.”

My love of God, comic books, graphic novels, Del Toro, arte, music! and all things nerd and geek and in between inspire me.

Hey everybody. Thanksa for stopping by. I’d like to invite you all quickly(or my definition of quickly) on a brief trip back in time a few years. *calibrating the Time Clock and waiting on Doc to refuel the DeLorean. What? I don’t have a Delorian? Doc’s not real?

Okay. Well, slight technical difficulty. But nothing we can’t work past, write?

A few years ago, I left the small town I was living in after working seven years as a Corrections Officer in a max. unit penitentiary. It was…difficult to say the least. But I kept my head up and stayed strong, believing my faith and believing deeper in the One I had faith in through it all. We started all over and I quickly learned my entirely new trade. It was night and day coming from corrections into manufacturing. Thank you, my brother for getting me that job. I was happy. I enjoyed creating, working with my hands in ways I had never done.  Then on what would be considered any typical wedding anniversary-my wife and you all will get what I mean..I hope-I decided to surprise my wife, Jennifer, my inspiration numera una- with a “story” written just for her. It was about a robot, me, who was unhappy. He felt lost. Unsure. He seeks out in search of life and laughter and finds his true friend, a flower, the wife. I called it The Sad Little Robot. I shared it on Myspace for a few hours and it garnered a lot of hits and one comment from a lyricist/writer friend of mine, my age, read: “This is so awesome!”

I was thrilled. The views and comments were very appreciated. But I was happy I wrote it. An original story just for my wife. I created this. See before, I had written some poetry, I am very proud of it…but that was the brunt of my writing. I never imagined writing would be something I would do for more than just a hobby. Because I did enjoy it. Robut was the first “real” thing I had written. There is a scripture in the bible that says, “The gifts and calling of God cannot be taken away.” YOU’RE TELLING ME!!!

You see shortly after writing Robut, I got ideas for so. many. other. books. Ideas pulled from all the things I had learned in my years in church and from all of the mentors I had in my life. Non-fiction type stuff. God had never spoken so clear than this time in my life and then…I saw the above play out as clear as day.

See. I’m the Writer of The Stories. It’s been over a year. Since then, I have been on Facebook, Twitter, here, New Authors Fellowship, biblical based Ministries on Facebook that I am blessed to be a part of. In addition…I have made and come to know some of the most kind, supportive, brilliant and talented Writers, (self-pubbed, Indie-pubbed and traditionally-pubbed) and I have been most blessed by them all. I have been blessed to be able to write Guest posts and have had the pleasure of being interviewed. I’m still like-WHAAAT? Ya know.

But before, during and after all of that-there is a book. The first book in a series. The book that I knew I would go traditional with. The one I would query. That one I stared at some days and the one I created a fire under on most. See one thing is I never hated writing it. Never. I am happy to share that. I have inspired, thank you all, and have been inspired. I am grateful and humbled constantly.

Back to that whole query thing. I did it. I sent mine out. And you know what? I wasn’t as nervous as I thought I would be. (Call me on that bull some other time, will ya? ;})

Thing is…I never quit. I never stopped believing. When I stood outside that day and saw that truck pass by with the name Tim Lowder on it…I never looked back.

Guess what and praise God-it paid off. Because as of Friday, 9/9/2011-I am, an agented #writer. 

Her name is Bree Ogden* of D4EO Literay Agency And as my very epic friend Dawny says: We were meant to find each other.

This I believe because I do not believe in coincidences.

This is only the next step, albeit a HUGE step for me and I am extremely blessed and grateful to Bree. But this is the next step. Work follows…and I know, truly…The Stories is COMING.

Writers are the new rock stars. I send you #writerlove and doff my hat to you all.

You can do this. When I say I’m a writer…I mean it.

No matter your path…you can do this!

Beesler, Allie, Michele Shaw, Dawny, Mowery, River, Michelle Pic, My BNFF’s, Morgan, Leigh, Tiffany K!, TL, My Bros, Jamie and Twisters in the #YASB, My Fellow #7DSers, Alexia Purdy, Leighton, Milligan, Cribbs, Joseph, Diane Graham, K. Newsome, Ralene, Enamored, Deb, SmashAttack!, @ifollowthenight…I love and thank you all-all of you, ALL-for everything.

WORD.

If you say you can’t you probably won’t…so don’t do that.

*Check out Bree. She is the absolute coolest. Oh, there’s more to come on Aspire No More. I give you my, “Word.”

|m|

The Stories: Book One, “Genesis” Excerpt and Five-Star Review Here: http://allieburke.blogspot.com/2011/09/writer-wednesday-stories-book-one.html


Through Innocent Eyes

I see the world through innocent eyes.

With no judgment, no bitterness, no blame.

Eyes that see the people all around me, different, yet one in the same.

Colors are crayons, not shades of skin to me.

If you could see through my eyes what things would you see?

I know you’d see fun and life and love-all free.

If I saw things through yours, what would they be?

Hate, pain, sadness or sorrow? Or a brighter future for me and you…I’m thinking about tomorrow.

Thinking about tomorrow makes me think of things I’ll do. Learn a new letter, word, or number, where’s, what’s and why’s….

…and continue to see the world through innocent eyes.

 

Children are taught, they are shown hate and prejudice. Let’s stop this. Let’s put an end to bullying and intolerance.

 

“Come to Me,” He said…with no prerequisites, no motives, unconditionally, ignorant of judgement, hate, etc…
Embrace EACH OTHER like this…its not that hard.


The Gift.

“God gave the gift of artists so that people can dream while they are awake.”–Steve Vai

You all have been given a gift.

Gift. A thing given willingly to someone without payment; a present

What if it could talk? What would he or she…say?

Hello. I’m your gift. I’m something entirely different to everyone…and everyone uses me different. Some more than others. Some not at all. The writer of this post believes a Creator gave this to you. But this isn’t about religion. I have some questions for you.

What will you do with me today? Put me in a corner and punish me for not being good enough? Will you yell at me? Tell me I’m not worth your time? Will you stomp on me and push me against the dirt and spit on me? Will you believe you are not good enough to have this gift? Put me in a closet and forget me?

Gift by Indevisual

Or will you embrace me, tightly?

Accept that you have been  freely given this gift?

Will you be grateful for it?

Will you sing at the top of your lungs?

Will you write your story…like only you can?

Will you tell that person something great…something that could save their life? Something that will inspire the dim light within their hearts to grow into a blazing fire?

Will you work me?

Will you be that teacher? Will you love?

Strengthen me.

Study me.

Use me for good. 

Channel me into something that could inspire another who will in turn inspire many more…who will then, perhaps, change the world?

I am your gift. What will you do with me?!

Up to you.

Let’s do this.

…if We already are…more power to you, my Friend!!!


The Stories: Book One “Genesis”

Chapter Two: Thunder Above Me, Blood Below

“Little, little girl…I am going to kill you,” he said.

She let out a cry that gave her hiding place away.

He pulled back a fallen partition to find the small child, huddled up, shaking violently in her red cloak. “Do you know why you wear that color, girl? Long ago, someone died. That is why! Your race and your symbols!” he growled in repulsion and spat on her hood. “This will hurt you. It will be…painful. But you will be dead soon after,” he said, sure of himself. “Without question, you will bleed. Your blood will spill over your cloak and become one with it, just as the beginnings of your history. However, no honor will accompany you,” the young beast said softly, grinning.

Confused at his words she could only ask, “Where is my Gramma?”

“Dead. You will soon join her, I assure you. Would you die for your Logos? Your Granny did. That is what I’m here for,” he said callously as he raised his long-fingered hand and pressed his claws to her face. One finger pushed into her forehead, breaking the skin.

She let out a cry, a slow and steady one.

Deliberately he joined two more fingers with the first, tearing her skin in two ripping the flesh away. She screamed. He did not muffle her and her voice echoed loudly through the trees. But no one could hear her calls. As the claws neared her eye, she closed them tightly. He whispered into her ear: “No. Before you die, I want you to see your assassin. Open your eyes.” His claws then made their way over her right eye and resumed the cutting into the skin on her cheek. “I wonder if I can mark even your skull. Perhaps I shall keep it…my prize,” he said, heavily invested in his actions. “No, no. Labadon would crush your skull like the dust it is made of. He would revile at the sight of it in his land!” he said softly, taunting her. He hunched over her on his hind legs and almost surveyed the damage he had inflicted as a painter to his canvas. His lips quivered as he looked into her eyes. He delighted in this kill. He lifted his bloodied claws directly in front of her face as if to brag. She attempted to scream as she covered her face. Her hands were soon diverting the blood from her torn flesh on her face down her hands and arms. He then swiped at her torso numerous times while growling a muted growl. It was a horrible attack. Cold, and with no remorse.

She was becoming weak. The intense pain made her unable to cry anymore. She was in shock and her eyes were glassed over. She seemed to stare at him. The sheer strength of his blows knocked her unconscious. She was only nine. The wolf assassin stood up, wiped his sharp claws on her cloak and left, swiftly, after his leader.

“She is dead! It is finished and yet, we have only just begun!” he yelled to his master.

What was once a home filled with joy, laughter and love was now one of silence and ruin. Two innocents lay disfigured. Dead. It was a massacre. Only a beast full of evil could have carried out such an attack. The rain poured down heavily almost as loud as stampeding auroch. The sound drowned out L’rrh’s whimpers as she awakened, an hour or so later. Her eyes widened and she let out a visceral yell. Then silence.

Grandma, she thought and looked out towards the front of the house. A bit of strength entered her body. It was as if her very soul cried out to her and caused her to move. If I can just see Gramma…once more, she thought to herself. The lightning crashed and with each flash a small, broken and bloodied figure was revealed, arising in the darkness. Her knees buckled under her and she fell to the floor. With every inch she moved, it felt like a mile. She pressed on and made her way through the mud and rubble and crawled towards her grandmother’s body. Finally, with the numbing pain in her body and loss of blood an afterthought, she saw Sarah. “I’m coming,” she whispered. Closer and closer still. Through the mud and rain falling ever harder, she winced from the water hitting her open wounds. “I’m here, Gramma,”…she whispered as she grabbed Sarah’s shawl in her little fingers and squeezed as tight as possible. “Gramma…I love you…the stories you t-told me…it was…you…wasn’t it?” she moaned painfully, her grip loosened and L’orrah…the little girl with the red hood…was gone. The sound of thunder whipped the ground, shaking the earth floor beneath them. The rain fell on their lifeless bodies as equally as on the trampled flowers nearby. It knew no better. The Stories:Book One. The tales you heard as a child? Only rumors of what really happened. God willing this will be on your next must-have list. |m| Because in this fantasy…legends have been reborn.


I Am Writer and Writing For Me…

We have all seen those posts giving tips on what to do be a stronger writer. No bs–they are invaluable and if you have written one of those, thank you.  I’ll be joining the ranks soon and I also give “tips” on Twitter myself. I also ran across a blog post stating what not to do. Twas brilliant. While all of these things are worth more than gold to a writer–I believe the next exercise is worth trying out.

Simply write one way or a hundred ways that writing has changed you.

Writing for me has–

…awakened the younger me.

…made me a stonger person.

…made me a better man.

…strengthened the bonds with my family.

…made me appreciate Gods gifts, sincerely. Continue reading


Remember Me

I am but a  man.
I forget…
How great You are
how Awesome Your Truth is.
I forget…
that You’ve already won
and it is my victory to proclaim
to all…but
who would listen?
“I tell you, the ones that do not know. They are out there, still.”
And so I remain still in Your sight
because  You remind me
of Who You are
and Who You will be…
…and who I am in You.

“There is life burning to find you…will you wait for me?”–Killswitch

YES.
Be blessed.

Dreams. My Father. I write about them.

I wrote a little ditty about our dreams and what we wish to accomplish and a little about my father.

He would recite this poem to us when we were kids.

I THINK that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the sweet earth’s flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.

 

 

Trees by Joyce Kilmer.

My favorite part was the last line, especially how he made his voice deepen and would say it with strength. My father taught me a lot of things…and I owe him so much.

I hope you stop by and read, maybe comment.

The blog post.

Share your thoughts.

Mostly, be blessed.

 


Red is not just a color…at least for me it’s not.

Favorite colors are not just for kids.

Back in 2002 there was a song called “The Red” by the band Chevelle. Loved it. Still do.

I joined a site called deviantart to try my hand at some poetry and lil art pieces and my nom de plume was TheRed.

I was biased towards the song for two reasons. One, my favorite color is? Blue. No, it’s red. All the way red. The second reason, perhaps THE reason I like the color is for what it symbolizes. Blood. The blood of Christ. Without the shedding of blood, I am not saved. Praise God…He did.

So, we fast forward to mid ’10 and I came to the conclusion that I wanted to write a full-length fiction book. An image popped in my head. The image? Not really an image but more of a scene, a moving one.

A little girl in red runs through a dense banyan filled forest,  breathing heavily. The scene moves to a pack of beasts chasing her, though they cannot be seen. The scenes change back and forth from the girl to the stampeding of the beasts and back…and forth until she stops to face them…and says three words from under breath: Do your worst.

The reason she was wearing red? Because it stood out in the night. So I loved it. The idea. It could only mean one thing: Little. Red. Riding. Hood. It made sense. She wanted to speak. And she chose me to write her story.

It quickly evolved into an entire story, an entire world where I carefully chose the characters that would appear in the first book and the great surprises I have for it’s prequels, Book Two:The Bridge and Book Three:Fulfillment.

In The Stories:Book One we see her not as The Little Red but as L’orrah. The name her Grandmother gave her. You’ve never seen her like this.

The red is a symbol in the entire series. You’ll see.

The red.

My Great-Great Grandfather, Miltiadis Lemos came from Psara, Greece. His name, Miltiadis means red earth.

He named his son, Milton derived from Miltiadis.

My surname, Longoria has no known accepted meaning, this is true. But upon recent  investigation I found that the Basque name Gorria means… RED.

I claim that. With all my heart that part of my name means red. The first part Lon is Basque for lion.

Genealogist’s studies prove our family name is from Spain but from the Austurian region. No matter. The Basque and Austurian regions are related.

One can see…my name that I am proud of, Longoria, most likely means Red Lion.

The point? “The red. It filters through.”

Before I found out about the meaning of Gorria I planned on getting a tattoo of a red lion rampant. I have a literal red lion statue in my home. and without giving too much away, “red lion” appears in my book.

Some things were meant to be.

Destiny. Fate. For me…all God.

I’m ready. Just looking at what I’ve written here, there is NO way I’ll let this pass me by.

I…writing this to share with any who read it…that some things were meant to be.

The gifts and calling of God are irrevocable.–Romans 11:29

Be blessed.

stock image courtesy mjranum-stock


Friday is free on Aspire No Mo’

I Am Writer.

Who are you?

Tymothy.

Tymothy who?

Tymothy Longoria. Proud member of the Twitter and Facebook #BNFF.

Of the YA Sisterhood.

#WritersAreTheNewRockStars creator.

Writer of The Sad Little Robut.  Writer of The Stories:Book One “Genesis”. Writer of the Envy story in The Seven Deadly Sins Collaboration. Contributor at The New Authors Fellowship. Epic fan of music. Of Times Of Grace. Of Perception Of Intent. Of ForthAngel. Writer of poetry. Of biblical lessons. Of sayings that first help me then others. Twitter user. Facebook frequenter. Christian. Husband. Father. An inspiration for many-that’s what they say.

Jennifer, Christin, Allie, Nicholas, Tiffany K. , Nicole, Hira, Nannette, Michelle S., Paul J., Deana, M.j., Isom, Fallon, Andrea, Shawn B. Tina S., TMousner, LL, AmyRose, Rachel H., Dawn, IFollow aka Nancy, AT, Phlegyas, Shelly, Demetra, NB, Dennis, Angela Shay, Morgan, Michelle H., Jamie, Christopher, Avaedra, WovenStrands, Khloe, Rudy M., Skibby, Shredder, Sammie Spence, L.a. Shaw, Sean, Bill, Julie, Candace, K.C., River, Tiffy Coles, Tina J., Tina O., Stephen, Vickie, Keri, Amy Sandova, Heather R., Beth Ann Masarik!, Paul Mc, AmyBeth, Alba, Toby N., Nessa, Isalys, Ash, Haley, Diana I., Jenna, Penny, Kristina, Ranee D., Meg, Karly, Genevieve, Angela C., The entire #YASB and #BNFF, MY Brother, Sisters, Rusty, Steve, Bailey K.,  Amy D. R., Ozana, Em,.

Man. I love you guys. All of you.

I am a self-proclaimed:

  • nerd
  • writer
  • activist
  • poet
  • antagonist
  • photographer
  • Transformer
  • philosopher
  • singer
  • and most importantly of all, I am a lover, not a fighter, but I will fight for those I love. Love is, folks… I was in a band once, not anymore… No matter how many people hear what you have to say…if one person is changed, that’s all that matters. Life is what we have been given…give something back. A little is better than none. I have a special place in mah ❤ for Michael McDonald and Michael Buble. First names are coincidence, :} Also I’m the President of Robert Palmer’s “Some Like It Hot” Fan Club*.

 Let’s do something.

Character is defined as what you do, how you act, what you think… when no one is watching.

 This, too, is a hate free zone.
God is the Ultimate judge. Come by, visit, and see how deep the rabbit hole goes. I’m telling you it’s deep fool. If there’s no one beside you When your soul embarks Then I’ll follow you into the dark How I long for you to see Him as I do…EVERYTHING

Eímai syngraféas, proikisménos apó ton Ii̱soú-It is high time to rock this world.

Hola, Geia sou, Que pasa, vatooo!
Spanish, Greek and Mexican blood make me who I am. The Blood of Jesus makes me who I want to Be.
My life can be summed up this way: Prevail Upon.
My father used to say, “Where there’s a will, there’s a way”. I tell you, reader, if God’s will, He will surely CLEAR the way.
I met my Friend, Partner, Teacher, Student, “Grasshoppa”,  the Bonnie to my Clyde, in 1995. I became a father at 18, to Jubal and never looked back. Eight years after, my green-eyed monsta, Araceli arrived.

Everyone says, “things happen for a reason.”
Well, that is truth if I ever heard.

I am developing my writing skills, some inherited, some learned.
I have always been more “serious” than a “jokester”, but I can play just as hard as I work.
Music speaks to the very soul and is why I embrace that which defines me.
I am a writer, currently working on my third fiction project with a series planned.
I am extremely excited about this project. The first book is a children’s book and it was a labor of love, written for my wife.
This one, however, this one IS my dream.
You will know His name is Jesus and those that don’t care to know, well, you still will. I love God. At the age of 15, I heard the name Jesus and now, that longing to be like Him grows daily. How I long for you to see Him as I do. My name is Tymothy Alex Lemos Longoria and to quote a radio rock song,

I tried to be someone else
But nothing seemed to change, I know now, this is who I really am inside. Finally found myself,
fighting for a chance! I know now, this is who I really am.

Stick around…it’s starting to get gooood.

I̱ cháris toú kyríou Ii̱soú Christoú metá toú pnév̱matos ymó̱n.

I want to meet and know people with similar interests…and people with a different outlook on life…I mean how else will I understand them?
People who see other people as people and know that those people are people too.-KM
Believers…and non-believers, writers, poets, singers; those who don’t care whose around, but express themselves, out loud, nerds, headbangers, slangers, players, of the game, the “gente in the barrio” and those in the high-rise, I’d like to tell YOU a few things, the more quiet type, screamers, listeners, and those who want to be heard.
I say, throw your hands up!!!
Come all people now!
Smile on your brother, everybody get together
Try and love one another, RIGHT now.

P.S.-If you are a CHRISTIAN and you have qualms or concerns about the “type” of music I like or the way one of THEIR album covers looks. If you are a CHRISTIAN and are weary about posts on my blog or the subject matter of my book:TELL ME. INBOX me. Do NOT judge me. Do NOT claim to “know” God “better” than me. SHOW me, tell me why.

*I’m not.

ALSO. As you may already know, I’m everwhere. Here, Twitter, my Blog, The New Authors Fellowship blog, Inkpop. Find me.

If actions speak louder than words, why are we still talking? ~Me

Be blessed!


It’s Friday.

Jᴜsᴛ ᴡʜᴇɴ I ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀsᴛᴀɴᴅs,
Nᴏ ᴏɴᴇ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ᴅᴏᴇs.
Rɪɢʜᴛ ᴡʜᴇɴ I ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ɪɴ ᴏɴᴇ ᴍɪɴᴅ
ᴛʜᴇʏ’ʀᴇ ᴀʟʟ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴘᴘᴏsɪᴛᴇ ᴅɪʀᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ.
Nᴏ ᴏɴᴇ ᴡᴀɴᴛs ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴡʀᴏɴɢ
ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏ ᴏɴᴇ ᴡᴀɴᴛs ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴏʟᴅ
ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ɪs ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴛᴏ ʟɪғᴇ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇʏ sᴇᴇ
ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ sᴜʀғᴀᴄᴇ.
Tʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀs ɪɴ ɴᴇᴇᴅ
ᴡʜᴏ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ᴍɪɴᴜᴛᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴡᴀsᴛᴇ
ᴏɴ ᴍᴜʀᴍᴜʀɪɴɢ,
ᴏɴ ʜᴀᴛᴇ…
Tʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʀᴇᴇs ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ sᴇᴇɴ
ᴀɴᴅ sᴋɪᴇs ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ʟᴏᴏᴋᴇᴅ ᴜᴘᴏɴ
Tʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴄʜɪʟᴅʀᴇɴ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴄᴀʀᴇᴅ ғᴏʀ ᴀɴᴅ ʟᴏᴠᴇs ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴡᴏɴ
Wᴏʀᴅs ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ, “sᴏɴɢs ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ sᴜɴɢ”
Pᴏᴇᴍs ᴛᴏ ɪɴsᴘɪʀᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴜsɪᴄ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴘʟᴀʏᴇᴅ
Tʜᴇʀᴇ ɪs ɢʀᴏᴡᴛʜ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ғᴏᴜɴᴅ
ᴀ ᴅᴇᴇᴘᴇʀ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀsᴛᴀɴᴅɪɴɢ ᴏғ ᴛʜɪs ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ sᴇᴀʀᴄʜᴇᴅ
Iғ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴏᴘᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴇʏᴇs ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇᴀʟɪᴢᴇ
Tʜᴀᴛ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴡʀᴏɴɢ ɪsɴ’ᴛ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ʙᴀᴅ
ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪʟʟ ʟᴇᴀʀɴ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʟɪғᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ
ᴀɴᴅ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ Gᴏᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘʀᴏᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴡʜᴏ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴛᴇʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ “I ᴀᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ᴡʜᴏ ʏᴏᴜ sᴀʏ I ᴀᴍ…I ᴀᴍ ᴍᴏʀᴇ!”
ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪʟʟ ғɪɴᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʀᴜᴛʜs ᴡᴀɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ғᴏᴜɴᴅ

more than  you could imagine!

Broken Heart:by starry eyed kid


Who Am I?: An Original Guest Post For Paula Wiseman

Thank you, again Paula.

One my favorite things about the Internet is that you connect with amazing people you might not ever have met otherwise. Today I want to introduce you to fellow writer, Tymothy Longoria. I love his passion for the things of God, and I think you will too. Be on the lookout for his upcoming epic fantasy The Stories:Book One. Like his  Facebook page to stay current on that project’s progress. Online Family, meet Tymothy. Tymothy, welcome to my place.–Paula

Who am I? I am Writer.

Hello all. First I’d like to thank Paula for having me. She is a true blessing and a wonderful writer.

I am compelled to write a short post about why I write or what drives me to write.

I guess I can say it “started” when I felt the need to write to bless God. What I mean of course, is sometimes we have no real intention of doing. So, I sat and wrote a poem. Yes, a poem. Well, one might say , “Everybody does that.” Not true. Not everybody can write a poem as I have come to learn. Not everyone can bring a line or two together and weave those two lines with two others and so on and so on. There are people whose strength lies in mathematics, in teaching, in speaking. More power to those who have found their gifts and realize the grace they have been given to use them. I am in the former category. I digress.

In this poem, I wanted to conjure a vision, not of brokenness or forgiveness-wait, I’m getting there-but of feeling lost . Of being lost. Why? Because I was lost until I was 15. I had heard of Christ and heard of what He “did” but never actually spoke to Him and years later, I wanted to thank Him by putting on paper what I think the soul feels apart from Him. The time came of course and I accepted Him and His forgiveness. The poem. The words appeared on to the page and as I read it, I was taken aback. For me it was groundbreaking. It was remarkable. I had created this. From there I wrote more. And more. Then? I put it aside. No, I put it in a box and stored it in a closet.

Until just a few years ago, more specifically, three years ago, I was working to jobs and while working at my night job, I literally had a revelation. Or epiphany, whichever sounds better. My wife and I were talking about when we were kids, I like robots-I’d draw them all the time-and she liked flowers, of course. It was then I got an idea. Something that many, many of us have said before. I could write a book ! So, I wrote one. It’s called The Sad Little Robut . Thing is I wrote it. Then…

I read this: The gifts and calling of God are irrevocable. Romans 11:29

And I said to myself, “This is who I am in You.” I heard this over and over. It played in my head. It rang out in my heart. “Nothing you do will prevent Me from doing what I set out to do.” Indeed. From Robut I got an idea for a saga, a trilogy that I am currently working on. It’s called The Stories and I am overwhelmed at all that is happening and the hope that He has given me.

What’s more, is I have so many ideas for books, it boggles my mind. BUT, I remember, God says When I do something, I go all the way! Question is: Will you follow suit and have the faith that I Am?

I have faith that He is in control and He has kept His Word. Here’s to writers’. We know what we are.

Do you know what you are in Him?

More than a conqueror.

May you all be blessed and continue in Him.

Note: This may echo other things I’ve written. But it’s my truth 🙂


God Is Good Friday

Did you ever hear the one about a man?

A slight man, not too tall, not too short.
Average, at best.
Worked hard at what he did.
He worked with wood and stone.
It says there was nothing really remarkable about him.
His name was Jesus. Continue reading


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