I’m wading in this cold wave coming up for air and diving deep. I can’t feel now but I must keep on- even if you open these wounds that you can’t heal. I’m waiting for the moment of the fury to pass by to be happy and fulfilled. Now it really happens- stillness…do you see what’s bound up inside of me? It matters not what I think-now I can’t breathe. The water surrounds and won’t let me up-what is that brushing against my leg, oh no a shadow beneath me stays…these moments I’m thinking my last thoughts- about you. My mind becoming blurry as the salty water invades my eyes and mouth-choking me. What about you? Let me have my way with you and cross my path again. Then I bet you’ll understand my position-come on, if you fall like the rest of us do then maybe you’ll believe in humanity. What am I hearing-crashing of the waves against the rocks. Now the tables are turned on you-how sorrowful for you to be without a wonderful dream…terrible pain now I bleed, I’m at the end. But now, I’m humming, a beautiful song fills my soul-as the angels take my hand…
Mother God looked around one day
and saw there was a war
it was fought silently
inside her child’s soul
Many years of perfection
and majestic Christ-likeness
she went to church and prayed for this
it seemed to matter none
Temptation came and took her there
far away from right
to be high and sinless once
her perfect angel fell
From a place of freedom special
wonder and glory high
to the darkest pit of Hades
and filled with guilt and shame
Mother God perfection herself
cannot yet understand
what happened to her angel white
who fell to earth tonight.
It’s true, It’s true! I’m my biggest fan. Of a goldfish I have the attention span. I try to read other blogs and I’m sure you all have wonderful thoughts. No, no it interests me not. Then someone visits from Oman. Fascinating…pausing to admire my talents. But, every time I have a notion, construction screams and picks up the hammer. Then, painstakingly drives. me. nuts! O’, O’ does the world not care? The work of a genius is happening here! Would you interrupt Van Gogh? Oh God! Pleading with you from my soul. On the verge of greatness, yet never quite attaining it. And so, there goes, my narcissism has taken control.
Me, me, wanna be
Fancy face and carefree
Oh my, my- with my head held high
Stiletto heels, showing off these thighs
This lady dawned a party dress
And I’ll bite your lips for much less
Stuck on thoughts from a former life
Hope you’re happy with your hapless wife
No, no, no more strife
Mice in your pie! Feel my spite!
Police carried me to the Home
And they don’t let me loose to roam
Padded rooms and bolted doors
Shooting me up with metaphors
Literary genius I wanted to be
Birds slam the window, I’m not free.
(One of my fave Bible stories and my imagination combined.)
Jesus in prayer, quiet and still. I was there and hardly moved. I felt something there, in the air…and then Jesus asked in a different tone, who do the crowds say that I am? I heard them reply, they think you are John or maybe Elijah or one of the other prophets of old…
Jesus in prayer, quiet and still, he thought for a moment and hardly stirred. Then he said, but what about you? Who do you say that I am? What do you think? You’re here with me and they are not…and his voice trailed off. Simon, son of Jonah, looked him in the eye, kind of surprised and said, you are the Christ, the Son of God, why do you ask? Have I done something wrong?
Peace be still, Jesus said with a grin. God has revealed this to you, my friend. I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church and give you the keys to heaven…but please don’t tell that I am the Christ, it will be revealed in due time.
I’ve lost my pen I promise you
There’s no other way to write
Trying to mesh words onto paper
In some form you might like.
Stop pressuring me! It can’t be done
(Poet pauses for a drink)
The pen connects to my brain
Now I’m missing a vital link.
So, the poetry will have to stop
I see no other way
Don’t know what else to do
Please, tell me what to say.
Away from paper and pen?
If I cannot write then I will not live
It’s over… this is the end
Just throw me in the lion’s den.
Wanting to sleep this fit of frenzy away
Arousing myself and thinking, monotonous motions
Performing tasks as a stoic picture, a placid dullness
Painting a nude, with an evil stare, crazy and corrupting.
Tremoring and tugging, piling pillars of poison air
Heaving, leaving a grin, a girl in a crowd
Hardening her heart, a smirk on her lips, freezing time in an instant.