Author: picturesassembledfrommemory

So much depends on autumn afternoons, 
spent in comfoprtable chairs, 
with a cup of coffee and a good book, 
while Elsa sniffs the air with her head tilted back and then settles into her spot on the couch. 

So much depends on the soft candle light, 
the rosary I pray, 
meditating and striving ot know God, 
asking for the courage to be his witness. 

So much depends on the sleep gotten after a long and relaxing day of reading, 
then on to the bed with the fan to cool off, 
any dreams that might lead to distress. 

So much depends on the memory of that house in New Jersey, 
the dinners cooked in that kitchen, 
sharing more than food, 
making memories that will last a lifetime. 

So much depends on all memories, 
remembered and reliv ed, 
those who are here, remembering those whow have gone, 
again and again, 
bringing them back to partake in our lives once more.

So much depends on what is to come, 
when there are new ones to bear our names and resemblance to our faces. 

Funny, how I always wanted to go back to those quiet afternoons, 
those quiet breakfasts and lazy evenings, 
to go back to when they were not so independent, 
to read books in my chair and to listen to their stories about adventures in the woods behind the house. 

(since developed and now without charm or adventures.) 

So much depends on watching the summer fade, 
like those storms that are created by winds that meet int he middle, 
creating all that havoc.

Those pictures on the wall are people from long ago, 
no more baby faces, 
now women's faces, 
beautiful and lovely, 
an handsome and masculine, 
dancer features and equestrian elegance. 

(I miss them...) 

In the same way that I miss the laziness of summer, 
once the reality of autumn comes, 
not yet ready for winter, 
(even though I know it always follows Autumn.) 

T. S. Deary 
11/20 - 11/22/24

The lowly will become mighty, 
the mighty will be brought low, 
by the hand of the Living God this will be done. 

Woe to you who call evil good, 
who deny life to the unborn. 
Woe to you who shut up the Kingdom of Heaven against men, 
not going in yourselves and keeping others out,
standing and watching as the blood drips from your hands. 

Woe to you who say that God's words are only ancient myths, 
denying what belongs to him, justice, mercy, faith, claiming them for others, 
as if you yourselves created them. 

Woe to you, this city, once full of justice, 
now a harlot that sells herself to the highest bidder and then, throw, torn and dismembered babies into the trash, 
while your senators pass laws to protect the guilty. 

Woe to you who insist on bowing to the letter of the law, 
trampling on its heart, 
as you sit in places of judgement, 
putting up Roe for exhalation, 
while trampling the word of God. 

Woe to you who call violence peace and peace violence,
the peacemakers will be blessed and you are cursed, 
making one thing into another, 
honoring them while ignoring God. 

Woe to you who go against what God has already decided, 
knowing that he formed his people in their mother's wombs, 
while you seek to make the right to kill them before they are born into law, 
there is no justice in your laws.

Woe to you Senators and Representatives, 
passing laws to elevate the highest, 
and to destroy the lowest, 
bringing the blood of the innocent to your own hands, 
while your mouths claim to be doing good. 

In their church, 
they worship at the altar of choice, 
in their church the sacrifice has no voice.

Since when is there a debate abou the origin of life? 
The greatest gift to be bestowed on man and wife, 
formed by God in the womb, 
but to you, nothing less thana stone cold tomb. 

In utero, John lept for joy at Mary's appearance, 
in utero, Jesus was protected by Joseph, 
in utero we were all formed by God!
We are his, 
regardless of circumstances, 
we are designed by the Divine hand. 

They build elaborate cathedrals, 
decicated to choice and bodily autonomy, 
altars over millions of dead babies, 
their blood drips from their judicial scripture, 
chapter and verse, 
accepted as gospel by millions.

Altars of Destruction, 
death's construction, 
sacrament annointed, 
priests appointed. 

They alone determine life and death, 
who will be allowed ot draw their first breath, 
masqueraded language, 
soul's orphanage. 

Blood on their hands, 
sacramental fervor, 
dead babies are their legacy.

They masquerade, 
they masquerade, 
all full of nothing. 

T. S. Deary 
11/5 - 11/14/24

Be careful you young ones, 
up ahead there is a cliff, 
be careful as you walk with your head all full of freedom but otherwise all empty. 

It is time to grow up, 
Yes, you! 
I am speaking to you! 
About the world, 
about how you won't navigate it safely in that boat you have barely built.

(not yet ready to sail the seas...) 

No momentum gained, 
no motion sustained...

There are inevitable consequences to constantly being told that mediocrity is exceptionality.

No momentum gained, 
no motion sustained.

Now you are all off and on your way, 
gathering up all the gold you can find, 
only to find out later, 
it is only dust, 
and in the end it will all just blow away, 
what is coming is the hardest lesson of life, 
only learned in the endless way that time keeps coming and going and never, ever stops. 

You will come to realize that you are not invincible,
there are final answers to questions that you do not want to ask, 
reasons rushing by, 
left untouched but reaching out anyway, 
those places are all steep, 
bringing tears to unlined faces, 
leaving their tracks over time. 

Soon you will be reaching and coming to know that fear that is contained in a handful of dust, 
measuring out your regret because you did not pay proper attention, 
learn to watch where you step, 
because it is a long way down, 
only stepm where you can see that there is space to move. 

I saw the two of you, 
looking at each other, 
eyes wide open, 
on full display, 
forever and ever, 
unaware that far away, 
in places you can't yet see, 
you will come to realize the way is steep, 
and those eyes won't always be so wide. 

From here the cliffs spread out, 
they become steeper as life goes on, 
then comes the realization that climbing up is almost impossible, 
this is the harshest shot, between the eyes, from the big time world. 

As you descend, remember this lesson, 
especially from those who have already been where you are, 
keep looking over your shoulder, 
making mental notes of you shadow at mid day, 
because soon it will be evening. 

Time will ascend, 
you will only descend. 

T. S. Deary 
PAFM
5/17/23 - 11/1/24 

By the time he was found, 
he had the look of a haunted, haunted man, 
not remarkable at all, 
without his uniform, 
polished boots, 
death's Head hat, 
nothing about him was evil or sinister, 
only a bland and ordinary man. 

When he sat on the chair, 
now so far removed from his crimes, 
now in the hands of his enemies, 
he was unremarkable, 
empty. 

It was as if they draped an empty suit over his chair, 
no substance at all. 

An empty suit, 
no moral compass, 
pathetic protestations. 

"I was only following orders..." 

Later he was reduced to ashes, 
tossed into the sea, 
nothing was left of him. 

T. S. Deary 
11/8/24 

John had been preaching that soon..
"The Lamb of God will appear...Repent!"

Turn from a life of sin,
return to God, 
who waits with open arms, 
the wheat will be harvested, 
the chaff thrown into the trash bin.

John was well known, 
some considered him crazy, 
out there in the desert, 
praying and fasting, 
accusing Herod of infidelity, 
they even sent people from the Temple to question him.

"Are you the Messiah?
Perhaps you are Elijah? 
Or are you just another prophet? 
What is this message...this pedestal, 
tell us or get off it!" 

John was listening quietly, 
sitting on the ground, 
he began to rise,
and then to speak...

"I will answer you by saying this...
No, I am not the Messiah, 
nor am I Elijah, 
I am a voice in this desert placce, 
calling out the truth, 
to your face...
After me one is coming, the one you seek, 
He is God's Lamb but he is not weak, 
he is the highest of the high, 
listen to him or this time will pass you by...

John kept on saying to repent, 
to turn back, 
the crooked path will be made straight, 
God is coming in a new way and he wants to reach out to you, 
he wants to tell you the Good News that has been written from the beginning, 
the time is now...

He will come to you as you are, 
He will show you God's mercy, 
He will come to you in these days, 
He will sit with you at table, 
He will befriend the outcast, 
He will bring the mighty low, 
He will innagurate God's kingdom and teach us how to pray to God as Father, 
we will become his children, 
blessed and ready for an inheritance. 

Repent! 
Turn away from your wicked lives, 
denounce sin and all the false promises of Satan, 
all the empty things that you do to be happy must be left behind to follow him.

"You must repent! 
His messenger has been sent! 
I am he and I am here,
the signs of God have never been more clear."

T. S. Deary 
P.A.F.M  
11/1/24 

They all said they loved him.
They all said how consequential he was.
They all said how much he will be missed...

Then the angryu old man, 
clenched fists and clenched teeth, 
they got him in and now they have gotten him out, 
this silent coup, 
to save democracy. 

Now they all love her. 
Now they all cheer for her.
This one, not that one, 
she, who has gotten zero votes, 
no new ideas, 
never answered a serious question, 
at least not without laughing her way to a non-answer.

Over run, in every direction, 
in way over her head, 
constantly chasing unnatainable perfection, 
non concern, better off dead. 

A Tournament of Lies, 
candidate with no votes, 
dangerous leftist ties, 
pre-planned, sterile quotes.

All she does is avoid the press, 
not one question answered, 
never on the record, 
never off the script,
never let them see the truth, 
or look behind that curtain, 
to see the strings, 
that made that tired old man so obediently leave.

These are the defenders of Democracy, 
these lying snakes, circling vultures, 
vocal Idiocracy, 
perfectly armed, deceptive archers.

Then comes the old guard, 
bring out his perfectly cadenced speeches, 
put those signs all over your yard, 
no credibility, blood sucking leeches. 

The old guard has spoken, 
the old man has been replaced, 
appearing merely as a token, 
his legacy erased.

He never saw it coming, 
never prepared for a change, 
blindsided by friends, 
voters ignored, 
back stabbed and left to die, 
crawling off the world stage. 

T. S. Deary 
8/22 - 10/24/24

"The things I saw beggar description...The visual evidence and verbal testimony of starvation, cruelty and bestiality were so overpowering as to leave me a bit sick."
General Dwight D. Eisenhower

These things that took place beggar description, 
walking skeletons, 
limbs like broom sticks with stretched out flesh.

This was the work of the master race, 
all put rightly in their place, 
constructed empire of destruction, 
minds content on death's construction. 

The death train, 
open, not hidden, 
a monument to cruelty, 
piled up corpses, 
proof of what has been done.

Are there any left alive? 
How could anyone have survived?

What mind could design this hellish place?
What mind could conceive of this place?
What God could ever allow it to exist?
Some came away shaking their heads, 
saying they were never big believers in God, 
but now they know the devil is real.

Far beyond what is civilized,
this place has sunk into the blackest darkness,
a created hell on purpose, 
lacking all morality, 
all reduced to nothing, 
on ashes, corpses and emaciated survivors remain.

Then the lying people, 
unable and unwilling to comprehend their role, 
this bloody play is over, 
but the curtain was raised again, 
for the whole world to see.

This was the work of the master race, 
creators and lords of this horrible place, 
framed by mortal hands, this awful symmetry, 
a monument to their scientific bigotry. 

10/21 - 10/25/24

T. S. Deary 

"Nicht einmal unheimlich." 

He was an old, ordinary, balding man, 
in no way remarkable, 
thin, in an ill fitting suit, 
he could have been anyone's grandfather, 
not a monster at all, 
calm, rarely raised his voice, 
resigned to his fate, 
altogether insignificant, 
he looked bored, annoyed, 
it would have been no different if an empty suit was draped over the chair he sat in. 

Still, 
he was a murderer, 
there was blood on his hands even if it could not be seen, 
even if he sat at his desk, 
without a forked tongue, 
no fangs, 
an insignificant old man with glasses and a balding head, 
a face in the crowd. 

Then there was all of us,
trying to balance the scales of justice for millions...

The world expected Lucifer, 
instead they found this plain spoken, bureaucrat, a planning, choreographer, 
no horns or tail, 
just this empty suit, looking soft and pale. 


T.S. Deary 
10/16/24

(for the millions unknown) 

Moving East, 
we unleash this rabid beast, 
won't be long, carnage unfurled, 
moving fast, remake the world. 

Death's Head, killing thread, 
Death's Head, killing spread,
master race, 
killing pace, 
master race, 
stone cold face.

Massive violence, 
shattered silence, 
crush and devastate, 
smash and hate.

"The shooting took place in the morning, in a ravine, behind the village, since then the villagers call this place, "the ravine of the Jews." The were shot with machine guns." 
Kollosovsky Mykolav, Ukraine

Deadly mission, 
mass commission, 
deadly mission, 
violent condition.

Massive acts of murder, 
done with greatest horror, 
massive acts of murder, 
all in the name of the Fuhrer, 
death's construction, 
slaves to destruction, 
blind eyes turning, 
soon, bodies burning.

Everyone knows what we bring, 
Everyone knows the tune we sing, 
Everyone knows what we bring, 
Evil minds pulling strings. 

The ravine, 
blood soaked killing machine, 
naked bodies buried, 
all lives taken, married, unmarried. 

"I saw them get off the wagons one by one.The were forced to undress in the wagons and they were taken one by one to the pit." 
Bronnay Gora, Belarus

They were forced to walk to a prearranged place, 
reassuring them, saving face, 
bring your things, safe return, 
only later would they learn.

"The Jewish houses and shops were looted right after the shooting. They took everything...
Ion, Moldova

After the day was over, 
there were piles and piles of clothes, 
the pits were covered over, 
the edges of the woods were once again quiet, 
witnesses went on with their lives, 
their dreams were never the same. 

They looted their homes, 
they took their clothes to wear for themselves, 
as if they never existed, 
their lives continued, 
while the pits have been filled in, 
remaining today, 
barren and covered with grass, 
that sways in that lonely wind. 

T.S. Deary 
9/24/24