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Poetry by Ex-2x2s - Part 2

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March 11, 2012

Poetry By Ex-2x2s - Part 2


WHY? #1
WHY? #2
If God...
Judgment Day
WHY? (# 1)

Why is it my hair that draws your attention?
When it is my heart I wish you would mention.
Why is it my attire, the color, the kind
That's so much more important than what's on my mind?

Why should I pretend to be something I'm not?
To seek for man's favor--that's not the way I was taught.
Don't judge a book by its cover, and beauty's only skin deep--
Why do we no longer, those old sayings keep?

The kindness and compassion that Jesus showed man
Is so obviously lacking in this squinty-eyed clan.
Where is your love, your care, your concern?
Why do you shut out and an outsider spurn?

Remember in the Bible, you say is so precious,
How Jesus threw NO stone and showed Himself gracious?
How can a candle that's set on a hill
Only show light to whom that it will?

How do you decide who is ever good enough
To deserve your esteem--or a self-righteous huff?
I'm so glad it's our Father who's far up above
That looks down in His mercy, kindness and love.

When before Him we'll stand on that Judgment Day
I wonder what to ALL He will say.
When it was said, "Fear not him who kills the body but that kills the Soul-"
We never thought it meant "inside" the fold.

The enemies may not be without but within,
Let's all be found praying that God will forgive our sin.
How can you think by your contempt, your criticism and frowns
You would ever encourage; instead you put down.

Kindness and smiles that are given away
Are marks of Jesus we can show others each day.

By Joetta Heiser


WHY? (# 2)

Why is our appearance, the way that we look
so very important in some people's book?

An image created for others to see,
I can tell you it doesn't appeal so to me.

We can start with the feet, and the shoes that you wear,
Do you think it really matters, does God REALLY care?

If our shoes are opened toes, sling backs or sandals,
Or is it the color that YOU just can't handle?

Another concern from those pious appearing
Is the length of your hemline--my, but aren't you daring?

One day you show your knees with no regard,
Then if the fashion changes, finding your ankles would be hard.

Too long is just as wrong as too short,
If in style you find yourself, the Workers report.

Remember too, the length of your sleeve,
To wear them too short--what kind of impression would that leave?

To show your elbow or for heaven's sakes higher--
Would require the services of the local town crier,

To denounce your sin before the whole congregation,
Like you read in the Bible of the Pharisee nation.

How low is your bodice, how narrow, how tight,
And is every button done up, against x-ray sight?

Please do not offend us with shorts or blue jeans,
Culottes are outlawed--they must NOT be seen.

Why we'd rather see underwear any old time,
But NEVER those men's clothes--you see that's the crime.

Don't misunderstand, modesty is NOT the issue,
Why, where have your ears been--have other's confused you?

Clothes that are comfortable, practical and sensible--
To these folks are worldly & totally apprehensible.

Slacks on women, for shame on those who do,
To be cold in the winter--why the Lord expects you to.

You'll wear gloves to protect your hands in the winter,
But to protect your LEGS, it's obvious that you're a sinner.

Men will wear slacks of corduroy or wool--
But to the poor ladies--panty hose are just TOO COOL!

Now let's talk about makeup and the outward adorning,
When the Friends see this--off they go mourning.

To say someone looks tired or ask if they've been sick,
Is like saying their age is apparent--is that the trick?

To look just a dowdy, as aged and bad,
Lends credibility too, if they also look sad.

If gold isn't legal to be worn by the Saints,
And if makeup is, akin to war paint,

Could someone explain the gold in watches and glasses,
I've seen them on Workers--just notice the flashes.

Gold also seen on buttons and pins,
But "wedding" rings only--the others are sins!!

I'd not like to fail today to just mention,
Some of the unusual things I've seen lately at Convention.

The bright hues and colors are most assuredly shocking--
To those who know Truth, they truly are mocking!

God expects His own to be colorless and dull,
Totally void of expression, make the outward hull.

I've just never understood what God could have meant,
The day he made red birds for our enjoyment.

Or the Grand Canyon in all of its beauty--
Were we to enjoy life, or merely feel duty?

When I see the earth and all of its glory,
"I" see the hand of God and a beautiful story.

No, the outward adorning is not what makes the man--
Neither the outward extreme of this backward clan.

God desires a purity that is from within,
A love that flows fully, like ink from a pen.

Not withheld from some, or given to one,
But which can't be contained, like you see from the sun.

The warmth and the light which is mightier than the cold,
Which lightens the burdens and encourages the soul.

The outward appearance changes with the season,
Clothes put on and taken off, whatever the reason.

Our outward image can so easily be shed,
But by our attitudes, thoughts and love -- we are truly led.

Honesty and love doesn't change with the time,
They're qualities we'll always consider quite fine.

Fads will come and fashions will go,
But to base our salvation on things shifty--HOW SO?

When we read so little of fashion in the Bible,
Of it's importance or of how it's reliable--

I want to be sure to aim at the higher goals,
And to fix my salvation on the importance of the SOUL!

By Joetta Heiser


IF GOD…

If God wanted clothing, I'd dress like a nun.
If He asked for long faces, and hair in a bun,

I'd do it for Him, if it gladdened His heart,
For I love Him so much, I would shoulder my part.

If God asked that I pass, the man on the road,
He isn't professing, why help with his load?

I'd walk with my nose, way up in the air,
For God doesn't love him, so why should I care?

If God said that meetings and conventions would save,
I'd be there and work hard, like some frantic slave.

If He said only workers, were meant to be served,
I'd give them the glory that they deserved.

No, He asked that I serve Him, in spirit and truth,
For Christ came to serve ALL, the old and the youth,

For no one is worthy, our sins are like mud,
We're worthless and useless, apart from Christ's blood.

So friend read the word, what does God desire?
It is HIS RIGHTEOUSNESS, to which I aspire.

He asks for a clean heart, a love that is pure,
My clothing will fade, but my soul will endure.

He asked me to have unconditional love,
Like the heart of the Father, in heaven above.

To change me and mold me, stretch me from within,
Turn from my self-righteousness, and let Jesus in.

He gave me a freedom, changed my short-sightedness,
For God only honors His Son's righteousness.

He is coming in glory, so believe on His word,
Only then you will know, how to honor our Lord

By Sheila (De Jager) Martin
Bowmanville, Ontario, Canada
Passed away May, 2005


JUDGMENT DAY

I stood at the door of Heaven, I stood at the Lord's great throne,
No one to take my place, judgment on me alone.
As He looked through the Book of Life, I watched as He came to my name,
I wondered what all He would look for, I wondered what my life would claim.

I rarely missed a meeting, I kept my hair cut short,
I gambled less than pennies, I never played a sport.
I never touched the bottle, I never smoked a butt,
I lived a very humble man, I walked without a strut.

My wife and girls wore dresses, they did their hair in a bun,
Never watched a movie, suppressed all worldly fun.
They never used the make-up, jewelry never wore,
Their natural beauty far out-weighed the look of Satan's whore.

We got the worker's mail, was an elder in the church,
Professed at age of eight, the scriptures I did search.
I knew the "Truth" was right, all other faith was sin,
I always stuck to morals, the worker's praise I'd win.

I stood at the door of Heaven, I stood at the Lord's great throne,
No one to take my place, judgment on me alone.
None of those things mattered, of the flesh is what they were,
Despite what the workers said, I now knew this for sure.

So I spent all my life trying to please the Lord,
When all I had to do was believe in all his Word.
My life lived for the workers, I gave and gave and gave,
Through hope of doing this, perhaps my soul He'd save.

By Scott
March 13, 1998


Barney and "The Truth"
Parents
If We But Knew
Buns
Dressing Up


BARNEY AND "THE TRUTH"

The "Truth" first came to Barney's house 'bout twenty years ago,
The workers knocked upon his door while trudging through the snow.
They told him of the meetings in a hall just down the street,
He's more than welcome Sunday when others come to meet.

Barney showed up at the door on Sunday afternoon,
A pair of jeans, an old sweat-shirt and whistling a tune.
The little ones all turned and stared, the adults had a smirk,
Some recognized the visitor as the local grocery clerk.

Throughout it all, that afternoon, he sat and took it in,
About this way, the only way, to save a life of sin.
He recognized a few of them and stayed around to chat,
Said he'd come back next Sunday if they always preached like that!

That night the "friends" all talked about the man that came that day,
The way he dressed, the words he used, unheard of in "The Way."
"He won't be back," some of them said, "he sat and looked around."
The workers, on the other hand, a new lost soul had found.

Barney showed up next week, still in the same old clothes,
His hair still half-way down his back, oh why, God only knows.
The third time Barney came along, they felt it time to say,
"We'd like to get to know you more, let's meet for lunch some day."

Barney, thinking this was great, said he was off that week,
Tomorrow would be wonderful to hear of how they speak!
Question after question he poured on these two men,
Their home, income and founder; laid out in Matthew ten.

Barney didn't take that long to see what was the "Truth",
Why had he only found it now, and some had known since youth?
A few more months, and Barney came clothed in a suit and tie,
He even had his hair cut short like a professing guy.

He sold his TV, VCR, and all his Rock and Roll,
He spent less time with his old friends, was bound to save his soul.
Convention came, and Saturday was all he waited for;
Last hymn, last verse, he made his choice to open wide the door.

He never felt such joy, such peace, as tears formed in his eyes,
While those around him sniffled and beamed as they watched him quickly rise.
His old friends never understood the change that came about;
No shows, no sports, no dances, to them was weird no doubt.

Barney's family couldn't see what happened to him too,
He spent less time with them until they thought, "What did we do?"
Ten years gone by and Barney still was faithful to his stand,
He moved up at the grocery store, remained a single man.

He dated girls off and on, but the local grocery clerk
Felt the place that he should be, was labouring in the work.
He met the overseer of the state that he was in,
They talked about his lot in life, to save a world of sin.

Barney's house went up for sale, as did his half-ton truck,
By spring, prep time, they both were gone, was this true fate or luck?
Suitcase in hand, clothes on his back, it certainly felt odd,
But now what Barney wanted most; his life belonged to God.

The first few years he stayed 'round home, he didn't get too far,
Conventions, Special Meetings, home to home, and car to car.
State to state and overseas, he traveled far and wide.
One day he got a letter; what the "Truth" had tried to hide.

He asked the other workers and the overseer too,
But none would say a word except that none of this is true.
He questioned older workers when the "Truth" first came to them,
They stuck by their old story, quoting gem right after gem.

Now Barney couldn't understand how men of God could lie,
Just saying folks were bitter, they would shake their heads and sigh.
He asked of William Irvine and Edward Cooney's plan
In 1897, they sought out to save all man.

He asked of why George Walker, Jack Carroll, James Jardine,
Turned away the very men that sowed the seeds they glean.
Barney couldn't take it in, they lied for twenty years,
He led so many to deceit, he falsely calmed their fears.

He spent the best years of his life tied up inside a cult,
What seemed to be his call in life was soon brought to a halt.
He left the work, he left the "Truth", he left with what he had,
Suitcase in hand, clothes on his back, his heart broke up and sad.

And now what can he do, poor man, no soul could understand,
The pain, the grief that he has faced since from the "Truth" was banned.
It wasn't long 'til Barney found a group of those outside,
Who left "The Way" because of how those early workers lied.

Through them, the ex-es, Barney found a brotherhood misled,
That he was not alone out there, not like the workers said.
Today, 'bout twenty years or so since Barney found "The Way,"
He's trying to warn all others of the cost if they should stay.

By Scott
February 25, 1998


PARENTS

They carried us to meetings from the time that we were born,
Barely missed a Wednesday night, scarcely missed a Sunday morn,
Toddled round conventions with all the other tots,
Listened to the workers preach while doing dot to dots.

Our parents showed us by their lives that this would please them most,
Having children in the way; of what more could they boast?
They kept us free from worldly things that led to lives of sin.
Kept us from the worldly folk and fashion that was 'in'.

They did this for their children, to show us of their love,
Showed us how to please Him most, our Heavenly God above.
We took our stand, we made our choice; we gave our lives to God,
Our parents couldn't have more joy, we walked where Jesus trod.

For years we went to meetings, we gave all that we had,
Our parents there to help us through the good times and the bad.
They carried us to meetings from the time that we were born,
They expected us to follow in the path of worldly scorn.

But somehow things went not as planned, we took another route,
Whether it was lack of joy or hearts were filled with doubt.
Things just didn't seem so right, what would our choices be?
Keep going to the meetings and continue faithfully,

Or would we make the deadly sin, the worst one could commit,
Turn our backs and walk away from "Truth", just outright quit?
We had the choice, we made the choice, we made it loud and clear
Even though our family and close friends shed many a tear.

Where are they now, the "friends" who were close by us up 'til now?
We're on a lower level folks, to low for them to bow.
Our parents haven't much to say, our lives are worlds away,
We only have so much in common, only so much we can say.

We talk about our new found friends, our music and TV,
They talk about the meetings, the workers, "friends" they see.
No interest in part of our lives, of course they don't approve,
So walls are built, the barriers up, these things so hard to move.

They carried us to meetings from the time that we were born;
Because we made our choice to leave, forever will they mourn?

By Scott
March 15, 1998


IF WE BUT KNEW
To the tune of Hymns Old & New # 21: If We But Knew

If we but knew the cost when we professed,
Would we have vowed that we would do our best?
Would we have thanked the Lord for being blessed?
If we but knew! If we but knew!

If we but knew the sorrow and the loss,
The lonely hours, shut from the world in dross,
All in the name of Jesus on the cross,
If we but knew! If we but knew!

If we but knew the joy across the land,
From those outside "The Testimony" band,
Not long would we remain in "Truth" to stand,
If we but knew! If we but knew!

If we but knew the workers hidden woe,
Before whom "friends" would bow, let money flow,
Let us resist their call for us to go,
Help us to know! Help us to know!

By Scott
December 28, 1997


100 WAYS TO MAKE A BUN

Can you tie it in a knot?
Can you make it look real hot?
Can you roll it in a ball?
Can you make it big or small?
Can you fix it really high?
Can you let some wisps just fly?
Can you pull it very tight?
Can you place it to your right?
Can you fix it in a braid?
Can you do it without aid?
Can you make it look real holy?
Can you make it look soooooo lowly?
Can you pat it really flat?
Can you wear it with a hat?
Can you bob it to and fro?
You're professing, don't you know?

By Sheila (De Jager) Martin
Bowmanville, Ontario, Canada
Passed away May, 2005


DRESSING UP

They stand out in a crowd, they're living out the Word,
But really more than anything, peculiar and absurd.

Long hair piled up on top, their dresses to the floor,
These 2x2s, the women, who dress like days of yore.

So why are they all like this, the chosen faithful few?
Deuteronomy, my old friend, verse five in twenty two.

"The women shall not wear what pertains unto the man,"
Now this here's all I've got to say, just try to understand.

She bought it down at Wal-Mart, a grey and pink pant suit,
It was in the ladies section, she thought it rather cute.

She found it in the ladies; it pertaineth not to man;
Now what about the Scottish kilt, the colours of the clan?

Does it pertain to lasses? The lads wore them for years.
And what did people REALLY wear in the Bible to God's fears?

The men had long, long robes, it even calls them skirts,
But nowadays, the men must wear their trousers and their shirts.

Now while we're in this chapter, fulfilling all God's word,
We'll look a little further, see how their visions blurred.

Verse eight of that same chapter, tells how to build a home,
"Make a battlement for thy roof," it's all but etched in stone.

How many friends today, when their house is built brand new,
So no one falls, no blood is shed, build a battlement in full view?

Let's go a little further, down to verse eleven,
Here's something else that you can't do if you want to go to heaven.

"Thou shalt not wear a garment of wool and linen mixed,"
We ought to check the labels of the workers, just for kicks.

This chapter's full of rules, but how many do they take?
Verse twelve; "three fringes on each corner of your vesture you shall make."

The last one that I'll mention is in verse twenty-two,
"Adultery is death for both," of this we know a few.

How many have been put to death by the workers and the friends,
Rather either covered up or gossiped to no ends.

So the workers say they follow in all the Bible's word,
But here's the proof they pick and choose to keep the folks they've lured.

So the women all wear dresses, that's what the Bible rules,
The Bible... or the workers that preach in local schools?

By Scott, 1999


To Jesus, My Savior
Reborn
Parental Tirade
Clear Vision
Shunning
Impelled by Love


TO JESUS, MY SAVIOR

You stirred my heart, and touched me soft
I felt a warmth of love,
You promised to protect my soul,
Just trust you now, forever.

But I didn't believe, I couldn't believe,
I've heard all that once before.
It wasn't true then, so why is it now,
That Jesus could be my Friend?

So heavenly Father, it's not that I'm cold, or hateful yet to you,
But I'm fearful of choosing another pathway of pain,
Where rules, though unwritten,
Would haunt me again.

So circle me round with your infinite love,
Please care for this willful young soul.
I want to get free of the bondage of past
And feel what it's like to know Christ's Grace at last.

To live with the comfort of renewal and strength,
Forgiveness, true mercy and lives broken, spent.
So though I don't jump in, embracing your Word,
My heart is still racing, I know it's been stirred.

I want to be closer, but it scares me so,
So remember me softly, and kind mercy let flow,
So that someday, quite shortly,
Your love I can know.

Arizona, USA


REBORN

My soul within this womb of void
Is struggling for release.
Can ever pain's recipient
Receive rewards of peace?

Contractions of this birth canal
Are OH! So far apart
I cannot push--the babe recedes
Far back into the dark.

This fetal form recoils from life
It's painful to be born
Tho' pressure swells, subsides, resumes
It still rejects life's morn'.

Can ever anguish mean a life
Reborn--a spirit free?
Can ever I push hard enough
That birth releases me?

Oh! dark my soul in matrix void
The cord coils 'round my head
If it should bind beyond my time
Then I will be born dead.

In labyrinthic limbo's grasp
The heart doth faintly beat
Please come expulsion, set me free
From former life's defeat.

With birth no bondage of that womb
Wields power over me
For Jesus said, so long ago,
'THE TRUTH SHALL MAKE YOU FREE."

D.B.
August, 1990


2x2 PARENTAL TIRADE
(Endured by most ALL ex Born/Raised Offspring)

"What!? You claim 'the way, the truth and life'
is simply 'Jesus'?" (Said with great hand wringing.)
"YOU believe Jesus is 'ONE with God?'
'Saved only by Grace?' THAT'S not YOUR upbringing!"

"Just 'worship God in spirit and truth,
free from doctrine found in human tuition?
no difficult yoke nor heavy burden?'
The devil's deceived YOU by such a notion!"

'Substitutionary Righteousness?
'Sin UN-imputed?' YOUR imagination!
'Eternal Reward AND Eternal Life?'
Found in the True Gospel? Pure fabrication!"

"'Eternal life is salvation sure
by God's gift of grace?' What dreadful heresy!
'The law and prophets until John; now
ALL a chosen royal priesthood?' Fallacy!"

"REPENT! Return to "THE EXAMPLE",
Workers know best, obey THEIR admonition,
Restore a faith that questions THEM not!
God's Way's a system, complete with tradition!"

By Dennis Jacobsen
January, 1998


CLEAR VISION

Many were the years I could not see
The kind of person God wanted me to be;
Hunting for reasons, trying to understand why
Are the answers in the books, or up in the sky?

Many were the days spent stumbling around
Where to put my feet on the shaking ground?
Tripping and falling on the rocks of confusion
Learning from teachers specializing in delusion.

Many were the hours spent looking for light
Hunting in the darkness--praying for my sight;
Searching and seeking through the long, hot day
To find a place to put my feet in the changing way.

Then one afternoon I'll never forget
At the altar I met Him; my face was wet.
I asked Him to heal me and He gave me power
To rise up and follow Him--that very hour!

Running and walking, I rejoiced in my sight;
I blinked and paused in wonder at the glorious light.
God can do it for you if He did it for me--
It's a gift--it's free; just ask to receive.

By Rosalie (Millar) Burrell
May 19, 1998


THE SHUNNING

Shunned for asking questions
For things not understood
Shunned for searching scriptures
As Bereans thought they should.

Shunned for being honest
Searching heart and soul
Shunned for realising
My life lacked God's control.

Shunned for cries of anquish
Cries from deep within
Shunned for a conviction
From the hidden depths of sin.

Shunned for finding Jesus
There outside the camp
Shunned that I have chosen
Him as my guiding lamp.

Shunned for being who I am
Giving up my mask
Shunned for telling of His grace
This is my daily task.

Shunned for loving Jesus
To worship Him alone
For all this I plead GUILTY
For I am now His own.

By Sheila (De Jager) Martin
Bowmanville, Ontario, Canada
Passed away May, 2005


IMPELLED BY LOVE
To the tune of #403 in Hymns Old & New # 403: Impelled by Love

I left the "Truth", I left the "Way"; workers and friends had naught to say,
And though I knew not what would be, my heart was glad, I now was free.
Impelled by love, I then did choose to seek the heart sore Two by Two's.
or in my heart there is a flame of love for those suff'ring the same.

I hear the workers beg and plead that tracts and websites friends not read,
I listen to the pris'ner's cry, and say again, "Truth" is a lie.
I could not question, "should they hear?", when thousands live in guilt and fear,
But ask that all know of the lie, that all would know the reason why.

Their pain and hurt I also bear, I want to show them that I care,
I want to help them cut the ties that bind and keep them to the lies.

By Scott
March 29, 1998

Dedicated to Sandi, Cherie, Dennis and all those others past and present who have spent countless hours trying to help those in bondage.
For what? Because they care...


The 2x2 Church List
Freedom
Foolish Virgins
The Dollmakers


FREEDOM

Long, long ago in a far away place
Lived a stranger I hardly remember.
She lived in a box
Walls of fear, guilt and shame,

Closed alone with her dreams and her thoughts.
The box was transparent,
The box was manmade,
The box was too small and too tight.

Past, present and future, all time seemed the same
Just darkness--all day and all night.
Loneliness her clothing, crying her song
Tears her communion, silence her God.

Self denial, submission,
And lack of self worth
Is there nothing--
Nothing, of good on this earth?

One day from that sweltering box was seen
A dark bearded stranger
With a face so lean
He was searching, looking

For just such a girl
For deliverance, release and safekeeping.
Too many choices, which way to go?
Too much to learn, too much to know.

A box or the world?
Dark safety and night?
Which way to turn?
Fantasy or light?

The box was soon opened,
The lid stood aside.
A whole, wonderful world waited outside!
To go or to stay?

To be safe or to play?
Will it ever be possible to find the way?
But out she fell as the stranger led the way.
To the mountains, to the hills,

To places far away.
On the ocean, on the Sound,
Through the canyons, in the fields;
What fabulous things she found!

Living and learning,
Traveling, exploring;
This is life, this is love
This is really being free!

Being free, loving God,
And even loving ME!

By Rosalie (Millar) Burrell
Oct. 22, 1997


WE ARE THE FOOLISH VIRGINS !

WE are the foolish virgins, letting our lamps burn low,
Who lost our way in the darkness, not seeing where we would go.

WE are the prodigal children, journeying far from home,
Dwelling in riotous living, further from God we roam.

WE are the goats on the left hand, far from the sheep on the right,
Living the life of the world, lost in the ways of the night.

WE are the sheep gone astray, from the ninety and nine of the fold,
Wandering alone o'er the hillside, bleating for help in the cold.

WE are the coins misplaced, inside of the house somewhere,
Hidden among the possessions, treasures, 'mongst others, so rare.

WE are the seed sown in stones, who take no root in the earth,
Receiving the word in gladness, then succumb to a world of mirth.

WE are the seed sown in thorns, choked by the lusts of sin,
Hearing the word, but unfruitful, to the cares of life we give in.

That's what THEY say....

Scott, 1998