I've substituted
One dysfunctional
PAIN
For one
That's immensely
Productive

Using the cold
Sharp
Blade to
Slice my skin
Wide open
To let the
Hot
Blood gush
Free
Leaving lumpy
Atrocious
Scars
That hold
Discouraging
Memories

Will never happen again
Because

I've become
Addicted to
Permanently
Sewing ink
Into my body
To
Display an image
Of who I am
Inside
Show it
On the outside
Like a canvas
Of abstract compositions

Equal repercussions
But
A positive
Release of emotions

I do not regret
Any
Of the permanent
markings
On my skin

But I am
Proud
To have found
Such a rewarding
Alternative

For if I did not go
And get
The words of my conscious
Sewn across my chest
I would
Still be
Sitting on the
Floor
Carving names
Into my flesh
Leaving hideous
Wounds
By crossing
Them out

One painful
Accomplishing
Addition
After another
Leaves me with
An emotion
That's full of relief
A proud
Uplifting energy
To build optimism

Something that
Won't cause
Tears
To stain my face
When looked back upon

Something that
I can be absolute
About

Something that
I don't have to
Hide from people

Something that
I can
Show off
And express
Myself
Openly

Something that
Holds nostalgic
Memories
To bring
Not tears of sadness
But tears
Of pure
Bliss

Exclusively molded in the divine image
  or egos big enough to declare it so
A dangerous theory
  a disastrous belief system

Gardeners of Eden
  turned stewards of entropy
Superiority conquest of nature
  symbiotic balance forsaken
  
Jealous hoarders of spirituality,
  sentience, self-awareness, intelligence
The irrational glorification of reason
  despite a history of upheaval and war

Bullies on the playground of manifest destiny
  exploitive excess worshiped as progress
Arrogantly intoxicated on the dregs of Pandora's jar
  blindly stumbling toward self-destruction 

Welcome to the valley of the shadow of death
             Environmental Armageddon

So sunny and warm..
I can almost feel you here beside me,
Quietly smiling as my fingers
Lazily play across your skin.

Sleepy kisses and the occasional sigh,
Or light laughter
Are the only audible indications
We’re still awake.

The slow blinking that ensues the longer we lay there;
Open…
          Closed…  
                   Open…
                            Closed..
We smile again when we catch the other peeking.

Torn between fighting sleep to enjoy the moment just a little longer..
And wanting to give into sleep, because we are just so comfortable there;
Together.
Warm and safe and loved.

That image of us will always be my idea of perfect.

Jolted awake as always
But then I see
Your body
Lying beside mine
And it all seems
Perfect
Every moment
In my life that I've
Suffered feels
So worth him
My future husband
The man whom I
Could not bare life without
My heart settles into this peaceful image
Of his arms wrapped around me
And never letting go
And then I sink deeper and the image of us holding
Our childs hand comes back to my mind
And it just all seems
So
Perfect
Life with you is
All I could have ever wanted.


You are my dream come true.

Standing firm on my chosen path, I cannot help but look to the desolate fields outside
Despite no wall between, I feel alone
Others glide past with ease, and share only brief interaction
I admit I sometimes yearn for the company
But I do not crave such connections displayed in this dense population.

But a man caught my eye
With movements so fast, he seemed motionless and calm
Beneath the heavy shadow he remained at peace
No ropes laid out for escape nor comfort
And the dark sun was not quick enough to cast a shadow on his image.

This man spoke words of honesty
Although they may have been from cunning I could not see
I chose to wear this blindfold and open my hands long ago
I wonder if in the exchange of good for moments of pleasure
Did this man conceal treasures from those bodiless tax collectors?

As we spoke, I felt him offload words into my ears
Words with slight glimmers that brought more light to my own
This honestly deceiving man was not lost
He stayed hidden, concealed
Secretly passing his light to my torch, to carry forward in my journey.
Perhaps all is not lost, perhaps, we will wait and see, perhaps we will see.

Author. Nothing his radar
Escapes. All things he knows,
Even the wind that blows.

All gods ere him stoop, bowing
Together to the majesty in
Heaven's realm. Great his manifold
Wonders. Excellent every craft
And work of his hand. The world
Whole waltz upon his golden cart.

Man, the opus of his creation:
The only in his image cast.
Unequalled in form and fashion--
From his first to his last.

Nought exits that was uncreated;
Nonfictional be the Genesis' account.
Scores of theories scientists great invented--
All, Scripture and faith, does discount.

In awe stand: the Alpha hail; laud the Omega.

I have been living in this apartment for 9 months
and there is a pink tree that I never noticed until this morning.
it reminds me of your lips
                                your tongue
                                   your nipples
it is hidden behind the leafy green of trees that survive the winter
and it only blossoms in Spring
and I am willing to bet
it only blossomed last night while we were kissing.
that tree is our tree, it grew in 4 hours
sunk its roots into the ground when I finally felt your skin again.
grew branches when your long fingers and chalk dust knuckles wrapped themselves around my ribcage.
buds sprouted when we fell into the lost worlds of our eyes
and flowers bloomed with every kiss.
(4 hours is enough to grow a tree when love is the gardener.)

there is a vibrancy to the world today
somehow even grey skies light up the world
and cigarettes taste sweeter
but the cold is still too much
and inside, my apartment is permeated with your smell
I want to bottle it and save it up
snuff for lonely days
because what keeps me going is not marketable
which I sometimes forget, because sometimes in love
you believe that everyone looks at your love the same way you do
an image of Perfection
memories of perfection linger in this house and it feels like
morning will last forever
but I wish that last night had lasted forever,
grown an orchard of pink trees so tall & thick the blossoms
pressed against the windowpane
so when you had to leave the petals would pick you up and carry you home
a hundred and eighty-five miles is a long way to depend on petals
so I'll thread my veins and stitch them together
(because of your love my blood is strong enough) & when you get home
O-positive 98.6 degrees will soak the petals into the ground
and up will sprout a pink tree
so you can look up and think of me
and missing each other might get a little easier
                  (if) absence makes the heart grow fonder

Soul of black folk Trevon Martin and Emmett till..
A image of the worlds ills
There's a different between mans n Gods will..
The physician has  stethoscope now breathe Yes the worlds ill
A deviant of society words that the deaf can feel..
The difference in a person defines whats real..
My ancestry.
Oh yeah cotton fields
In a dressing room being asked how my jeans of cotton feel..
I don't know cause my genes are imprinted
Reaction to fashion..
How corrupt are these thoughts of blackness that have us branded..
Called to be continents of Christ but island mindsets have us stranded..
Like how u white and you talk black..or how you black and you talk white..
There's no discrimination to ignorance Just like Gods sight..
Yet a clear division he judges the heart its darks and its lights.
He sprinkled his people the salt on earth.
Eat dirt the earth lacks flavor
Transformed to salt 
We should not conform to dirt..
Express food I wonder if God taste buds hurt..
Chefs cooking lukewarm dishes..
Serving Jesus as he spits the food out.
Now he raging through the kitchen....
Looking for the ingredients like this is not the recipe..
Where is the complex simplicity ..
No surprise that there's sickness due to obesity...
A melting pot stirred my God  blends together...
He makes us all the same feather..
Once realized we can fly together..
Wings strong enough to fly through any weather..
Fly higher than Satan's paws that filthy jungle cat...
Yet some still want to perch on his back..
A bird singing but can't see the bars on the Cage..
Try to escape and hit the bars  which causes flight to disengage..
Racism damages the wings..
Hate damages the wings..
Why does a cage bird sing....
Well I don't think Its a song its a scream..
Because if you pay attention the pitch changes once freed..
That same sound harmonizes with the breeze..
A wonderful song heard through the trees
As trees we should be deeply rooted in Christ..
In Faith not flesh that's why the forest is a mess..
Like a tree planted next to a oil spill or nuclear reactor..
And some radiation has disturbed the soil..
Fruit spring up already spoiled..
And I think of the seedlings..
Without proper cultivation grow up to be weaklings..
Jesus is the gardener prepared to work a miraculous healing..
But he only heals if your willing
Church never stops whether in or outside of the building..