my(wanna be) Shakespearean answering machine

well aware am I of the good intent of your call
however I must needs miss this opportunity for conversation, with which you where set on having
nay, 'twas not meant to be, that we should engage in most prodigious, most lovely of all pass-times
was not meet with the plan our heavenly father inscribed on His holy tablet before the beginning of the world.
But I tell you truly, as Alexander Stevens Goldman, fourth possessor of that name In blessed godly lineage, that do you leave name, number and any other information constructive to the purpos of thine call, I shall do my best to return it and make quarry as to your intentions.
But until then... Fair thee well!

"beep!...If you would like to page this person, press 5 now, at the tone(in the comment section) please record your message.

-aLEX

Poem(slow 'em)

Autumn leaves
from the trees
fly through the air
like honey bees

then on the ground
making nary a sound
till along comes a shoe
that grinds and pounds

into a pile all the leaves go
and set aflame go up in smoke
and on her car the old woman finds
fresh soot that in cold air still winds

not a single speck
escapes the wondrous sight
of the lord God above
bringer of autumn delight

-aLeX

Here are the poems I've written:

Blogging
Blogging is a thing that as often as I can I try to carry through
to get exposure, to unleash my feelings and all of this upon you
but when the computer is off and the laptop shut,I begin my life anew
for every day is like a post which must pass the Lords review
-by me

The caterpillar

From the complacent clouds neath a blanket of light
From the night sky above, from the stars ever bright,
Comes a call, a longing, nay irrevocable plea,
To the one who lies hidden in an old cedar tree,
For the caterpillar doth keep his place

And thus he slumbers never stirring
Monotonous days and nights enduring
Always from his original shape detouring
Till on beautiful wings the sky he may greet
With his cares to the wind he is longing to meet
And the flowers that bloom with nectar so sweet
Yet the caterpillar doth keep his place

And now he can feel it! his resurrection is near
to leave his small dungeon to join sky's that are clear
to the greet the world beyond, once again to appear...
and ah... he has begun to break free from his shell
to unlock the door to his previous cell

and away he flies to the suns bright rays
for metamorphosis is over and a butterfly he stays

Akin to the beautification of so unattractive a creature
Gods hand has shaped my grotesque and sinful nature
not have I one thing in my self worthy of the glory men
accept the alien righteousness which by the holy spirit Christ did send

And now that I am out of ideas it is time to say "The End".

-Written by Alex

Contemplation of an infant

Oh the trials of life, that I daily face
and the strain of a world with a fast moving pace
and how my feet and hands have grown in size
I know that before to long from the floor I will rise

be kind to me while I am small
for soon I will be both strong and tall
then in the field's I will romp and play
but for now I must sit here and contemplate the day

The end!

The Grace of God

Forsooth the trails in every day
Which in our lives do continually stay.
The fear of death the frets of of life,
The anger of man unleashed in strife.

We find morbid pleasure in criticizing,
The ones we love antagonizing.
We live for tomorrow forgetting today
To our money for provision we pray.

All fear the end though most ignore
And in our hearts this perplexity we store
For the knowledge of sin is given to all
We fear what might happen after the sod doth fall.

We may be helpless but there is a way,
To avoid the judgment sure to come on that day.
It was for this purpose God sent His chosen Son,
Our mediator our redeemer is God's only Son.

In gratitude of this I give all glory to Him,
To small a payment for so great a sin.