Bound by their cords, no room to breathe, lips turned to blue, love forced to bleed. Hate pulls web tighter closer to him, she surrenders her body, bound to his sin. Hate drags her down in deaths despair, Fate whispers to her, have no fear. The more hate pulls the tighter the bond, lacking resistance love stumbles on. Clasped tightly in earth's iron snare, devoid of hope, no body cares. When all is lost her spirit weak, her Masters voice from way down deep, sustains her life His living Word. Love breaks free, panic sets in, hate pursues, now unravelling, their world is built on shifting sands, her Lord reaches down she grabs his hand. The condemned lie, burns in its own fury,  condemned by it's own judge, and jury.

A day in love is like a thousand years,
With a heart beating but time moves no more.
I know the timelessness of loving you,
Is God-like as in Psalms ninety verse four.

To be in love with you gives me my soul,
Your love is the breath of life from Heaven.
The love my lungs breathe is like the spirit
God breathed in Genesis two verse seven.

Your love shows me mercy, grace, good and truth,
Patience, forgiveness and absence of hate.
It awes me like when God showed Himself in
Exodus thirty-four seven and eight.

The more I love you the simpler it gets,
It’s something I just naturally do.
Love’s forever inscribed in my heart like
Jeremiah thirty-one thirty-two.

I call all prevaricators liars.
They’ve set the world on fire
They’re walking on a wire
And I’m their jeremiah.
Our government is bad
The worst we’ve ever had
When it is fixed, we’ll all be glad.
And thus my jeremiad.

I shout my warnings aloud
Be not so blindly proud.
Our country lives under a cloud;
And we all wear a living shroud.
Snoozing through a pack of lies,
We should wake up if we’re wise
Look at what is before our eyes.
Heed what’s in the common cries.

Are we living behind barbed wire
Only seen by this jeremiah?
The time is now, the need is dire.
We’re threatened with a funeral pyre.
If freedom for all is a major threat,
We haven’t got democracy yet.
Rather than struggle under regret
WE fight a war, don’t forget.

I, the jeremiah, I make you uneasy.
I want the oppressors to be queasy
I want all of them to tease me
To change their ways to please me.
I won’t be polite, use kindly words
I gladly tweak the pompous overlords
I will continue to use my vocal chords
And call them out across the board.

Is she??
More frequently she dominates
half of my well-being she's the dominant
does that mean she's lovable?

She carried out a quest
searching for my love in the deep Saharan desert
and managed to demolish any unworthy bonds of them beasts
guys tell me, is she that lovable?

Every time I take a look in her mind, she's thinking about me

I was never much of a writer
I never knew how it was to
Rearrange letters in the alphabet
To form various splashes of color
That create one big masterpiece
I was never much of a writer
I never knew how it was to
Stretch my hands out
And be able to reach for words and phrases
I can use to build and create and make
Into a story I can call my own.
Instead the words and the letters
Looked like jumbled puzzle pieces that didn't quite work together,
They looked like stars
In the form of failed constellations
Mismatched brightness and color
I didn't get any of it
Sometimes I think I was too dizzy
From this 360° spin that we call life
See, I was never much of a writer
But I tried
I tried mix and matching words that I thought would make sense
But they never did
I tried picking the best flowers
For this bouquet of letters and symbols I tried making
But all I ended up with was
Withering words and
Misspelled petals
I tried building
Stories
Lego after lego after lego
But the pieces still refused to fit
So the towers fell; crumbled
Again and again and again
Reminding me of a mistake I made years ago
Again and again and again
Like a song on repeat
And it's times like these when I wish life was pencil on paper
So that I can erase, erase, erase
All the parts of me I didn't like
But I never had enough strength
To pick up a pen and create.
I couldn't.
I tried lighting candle upon candle
Of fragments of stories I thought I understood
So that I could see what the darkness up ahead contained
But all I ended up with
Was a forest fire
And the next thing I knew,
Everything was burning
My home
My papers
My dreams
My desires
My pride
My stubborn head
My rebel heart
And this flimsy, failed wrist of a writer of mine
Everything was burning
And everything that burned turned into ash
Disappeared into smoke somewhere above our heads
So that we can no longer see them
And I finally understood
I was never a writer
I was never the writer
I was never the author
Or the editor
Or the storyteller
Or the poet
I was never supposed to write in the first place
So I stopped writing.
And I let The Writer write
This huge masterpiece of a story
That we all call life
And ever since then,
The words made sense
The flowers never withered
The Legos all fit
The candles stayed lit
And life
Has never been more awesome