i've felt the presence of both the holy, and the extremely
unholy.
i've experienced sorrow of the greatest kind; the kind that hinders the heart and relentlessly leaves you in a river of your own tears.
i've experienced pain, grief, remorse and brutality.
i've experienced love of the grandest quality; the kind of love that leaves you with a belief in
magic.
i've experienced the ecstasy that coincides with feeling another person's touch on your skin.
i've experienced the holy grail of your being and the complete blasphemy of mine.
i've experienced what only i have been able to interpret as greater than this universe.
i've experienced so much in a short while, but that does not discount from it's power.
i've experienced you and me, all in our most naked form.
i've experienced a life that was intended and created for a very specific reason;  a reason that i am connecting to more and more each day.
i've experienced hatred and scorn, but i've also experienced love and praise.
i've experienced more than sometimes i feel i should, but one day the answers will unveil themselves to me.
i've experienced all that i have and all that i know, and while i know that there's a long way to go, i have experienced what i believe was meant for me.
and i'm certainly more than fine with
that.

Genius comes with revision
Like the way the best line in a poem delivers an emotional punch
That can't be described, only recreated
By other poets with their sharply focused emotions filtered through words like a camera lens.
Take your poem and photoshop it. Add in blurred edges for
Vagueness. Adjust for context.
Revise, revise again.
I want to revise the way I feel about you
Put it aside like a short story and return in a month with a red pen to make corrections
Love is for people who can't focus
Love is for people with bad photoshop skills
Who keep moving the eraser tool over and over your picture but can't seem to make you fade away
And the images are saved to a permanent file in my heart's hard drive
I want to delete the way I feel about you
It's the wrong extension, and a more experienced photographer would know not to make this kind of stupid mistake
Don't let your emotions get in the way of a good picture
Don't let a good picture get in the way of a major revision
Hold the pen in your hand and deliver an emotional punch
I want to punch the way I feel about you
Crossing you out in every stanza
Until revision makes me a genius
A poem with red lines over my heart.

Because of Adam we are dust and  return from which we came
But at the cross Jesus conqueror the grave...
So that's not where we remain.
Fly like doves in heaven the eternally saved
Death often brings pain and thoughts of rage..
Like how he die so early..
Yet we know he's in peace .. in heaven there's no surgery
On earth lives are at stake..
The gift of birth God gives but the flesh is limited so the Spirit he takeneth away
So Donnell's life was a gift..
So remember when there's sorrow there is glory at the end
God knew what we needed couldn't have made another..
To Caprice, Erin, and his other siblings he was a brother..
When he was born Neicy became a mother
To Clarence a nephew to Ms. Cooper a grandchild...
To me a playmate young and running wild
My eyes water while kneeling on the Floor
Praying for the healing of hearts that are sore
But to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord
U with God and the angels now I can feel u hover..
Up in the heavens above us
Face to Face now u can see how much Christ loves us
Walking on gold paved streets...
Like a dream something we cant even fathom in our sleep,
Started writing this with a tear..
It trickled into this here..
Words to my brother in heaven there's Nothing to fear
So God I will not question..
Cause when its time he reveals the answers to life lessons..
Oh the Thoughts of entering into heaven..
My brother at 27..
Walking around in heaven..
When its all said and done God is  forever omnipresent

I know that if you have a problem
I'd be there with you
Now that if you had to choose
You'd be with someone new
I would think of your tomorrows
Future will be blue
But sometimes I just be right back and
You'd be someone true

But the futures looking bright on me
Something's feeling right with me
Don't be afraid
To take this all away
Stranger things have happened to me

I know if you sang songs with me
I'd be happy too
Everyday and all those nights
I dreamed of times with you
If it's gone we'll a problem
You don't want to lose
Sleep this restless night away
And I will think of you

But the time has shown to me
That you are best for me
Lets fly away
Our love today
Stranger things have happened to me

The air is damp and fresh,
the scent of new rain perfumes all that surrounds me
and thin mist lingers in the atmosphere.
It caresses my face when I walk through it's path,
a simple, happy path,
like moth's wings on silk, and it no longer stings.

A large oak tree stands tall and mighty, a magnificent display of solidarity -
but not imposing.
It is kind and bare and humble,
and I see that we are both stripped in some way, raw and defrocked.
I touch the last trace of green it possesses,
the last bit of hope and the last reminder that things come back
and that things move forward,
soft moss under the pads of my fingertips, soaked and sponge like,
and just there - clean and true.

I turn up my collar against the wind and tighten the wrap of my coat around me,
still clinging,
but at least I'm shielding myself from the cold.
I'm still allowed to cling just a little, I think. Sometimes we need to cling -
to help us let go.
And anyway, I know that change has arrived at last, no matter how small it is,
because although the only embrace I receive here, aside from the fabric of my coat, is the bitter cold,
I am not bitter.
And this chill does nothing but bring peace,
and somehow warm my heart this time instead of freezing it.

A ruby under the wet russet leaves
is what I see through the remnants of the rain.
Peel away the outer layers so that I can remember what is beautiful.
These colours do not look like blood anymore;
they're a sunset: fading but with a guaranteed return.

Beginnings, endings, departures and returns -
that is an existence.
But a life
is when we look back with both longing and acceptance,
to never forget but never dwell too long
on what has been.

Sweetness, bitterness, sourness:
a weary traveler making his way along a path
with Autumn meadow on one side: tranquility and rest,
and Autumn meadow on the other: Summer is ended and so are you.
I know which side I'm ready to seek now.

For what is taken in Autumn,
is also returned.
And the evidence is in your being on this side of the path with me.
I know - because I see the good things now.
I see only the beautiful colours and the chestnuts and the mercifully short days.

Yes. This Autumn will be different.