as long as you are around
i would always remain a poet
my heart would always beat
keep my pen dancing
in this ballroom slate
of my brain
as long as you are around:
there would always still be words
metre, beat and rhyme;
there would still be songs
entitled to be sung just fine;
there would always
be raindrops kissing
this arid land;
and there would always still be
leaves falling for
this dreary
hopeless ground
but if perchance
you would be gone
these imperfect
fragments lost
in trance
my puzzled heart
would sooner die
missing your
unseen pieces
your saddest goodbyes
Jan 5, 2018
Jan 5, 2018 at 6:50 PM UTC
Happy new year poets!
More books to read
More poems to write
More stories to pen.
Forget not to breathe
Burst out your feelings
Shed your tears through the ink
Hooray, rejoice in every words written.
Dec 31, 2017
Dec 31, 2017 at 10:02 PM UTC
Mortals as we are;
in quest of the Divine.
Oh, how our weary souls longeth for Thee!
How we yearn to be with Thine.
How we seeketh to understand Thy attributes,
That we may loveth you, Divine.
The world has naught in store for us
Wandering as foreigners we art,
Waiting for a sheer bliss of rest,
Until we reach the Promised Land.
In here we fret, suffer and toil,
Battling and struggling over lure
Nonetheless, we won’t surrender
As we remember our blessed hope.
Dec 24, 2017
Dec 24, 2017 at 9:14 PM UTC
He was joy.
He was not just a baby born on a manger
born of a ****** and a carpenter.
He was joy.
He left His throne
embrace the lowliest of the lowliest
celebrated by shepherds whose identities matter not.
He was joy.
The angels declared, He'll bring goodnews
of which people will be saved from generations to generations and they will be filled with joy.
He was joy.
And an army of Angels exclaimed, "Glory to the Highest!"
Oh, what a joy He hath bring
for He is the Lord and King
His birth, a joy to all
Forever, I'll indeed treasure!
Dec 24, 2017
Dec 24, 2017 at 8:00 AM UTC
the whisper of words
the groaning of tears
wailing of sighs
travailing of pains
can all be wrapped up in a six-letter word called
P R A Y E R.
it's not just a language uttered
language heard
and felt.
it's that sorrow within
longing unmet
pain screamed.
when all else fails
when no one listens
everything seems to fade
that's when you do this so often.
for you know,
someone hears and someone loves to hear.
So pray.
Pray often.
not just in your moments of weakness
but also in those moments of success.
P R A Y. #beholdheprays
Dec 24, 2017
Dec 24, 2017 at 7:47 AM UTC
There's this thing about worship
that I often forget.
You see it's not just this thing
that we do on Sunday.
It's every day;
Every breath and movement of our hands
is done because we understand
that God's grace is not a prize we won.
It was a selfless giving of His only son
that He gave to rend our chains undone
and bring us into relationship with Him
by the victory over sin that we proclaim He won!
Yet somehow life still becomes some kind of rat race
trying to appear holy and saving face
with no admittance that we still need grace
and our response to that grace just kind of...
Disappears.
And then I wonder why I don't see His face,
why I'm not moved by His Word
why I'm not changed by His grace.
I wonder why I don't want Him around,
while my wrists are secretly bound
with shackles I like too much to take off.
But on Sunday morning I pray to be free
to realize that this Jesus did die for me
so that I could be with Him where He is one day,
yet day to day, I almost never say
God, I need you, and I'm not okay.
And I know it doesn't have to be this way!
I know He gave His Spirit, He promised that He'd stay
With me until the end of the age
and even in my deepest darkness His love for me is still the same
But God, oh God, I'm so ashamed
of all the things I've done while periodically praising Your name.
But there is no condemnation from You, You say.
You invite me to turn and run away
Into your arms and that I'll be changed--
That You will give me a new heart
and remove all of this shame
If I'd just confess my sin to You, You'd take the pain.
So I beg, and beg, that every day
My response to You would be the same
To run to You and admit my need
For Your grace, for Your love
above everything.
That I'd never not be responding
with my life, my work, and all my talking
to the Christ that stepped into time
to make me His, and make Him mine.
Dec 9, 2017
Dec 9, 2017 at 8:45 AM UTC
When the storms rage in my head
When I'm drowning in my dread
When I'm living like I'm dead
There You are
When I have no hand to hold
When I've lost sight of control
When I can't be strong or bold
There You are
And even though I see no sign above
I'm asking You to give me strength to trust
God You say that You're good
but everything I know
seems so out of control
And I can't make sense
of where you are in all this mess
and all I feel is my distress
But you say You're here
Could I know You're here?
Lord, You set the stars at night
You command the sun to rise
And when I open up my eyes
There You are
Oh, You calm the wind and waves
raised a dead man from his grave
with an arm that's strong to save
There You are
And even though I see no sign above
I'm asking You to give me strength to trust
God You say that You're good
but everything I know
seems so out of control
And I can't make sense
of where you are in all this mess
and all I feel is my distress
But You say You're here
Could I know You're here?
Here I lift this knife
Poised to take this life
You say stay your hand
Oh please, stay your hand
There's a better way
I will take your place
And you'll never be alone again
God I know that You're good
Take everything I know under Your control
I don't have to make sense
of how You're using all this mess
with love eclipsing my distress
And You say You're here
And I know You're here
Dec 9, 2017
Dec 9, 2017 at 8:45 AM UTC
Did I choose this life
Or did it choose me?
Did I take the path I took
believing I was free?
Was it me that took the first step?
If it was I'm not sure why
my ankles and wrists have scars
from where pain pulled me along
and all the while you know
I sang a happy song
convinced that I'm right where I belong
Here.
Here is where my deepest
fears are all covered up by
dear friends that I just met yesterday
But it's like I've known them my whole life
convinced beyond all doubt that
this is what freedom feels like
They like me after all
These people who chant the happy song
along with me, blissfully unaware that
none of us are really free.
In reality it's all one big scheme
cooked up by our darkest memories
because remembering hurts too much
with pain we'd all rather not touch
or talk about
God forbid we doubt this happy song we sing
or realize all the pain that truth might bring
So we'll carry on in hope
that our pretending doesn't go up in smoke
So let's have a conversation now while we can
about all the things kept behind the door
to your closet filled with ***** laundry
that's been there for years
damp with tears that no one ever saw you cry
You swear you'd die if anyone did.
Because in there you hid after what you did
or what you had done to you
Me too.
If I'm honest, I need you
The monster got me too.
Trauma and tragedy that turned me
into whatever the heck I am now
but somehow I'm still here
And believe me when I say I know;
Underneath all your fears
you're dying to hear that
you weren't the only one.
You weren't.
We didn't choose this road
pain told us we had to take it
that we had to fake it or get eaten alive
that this was the only way to survive
but if this is all there is I'd rather die!
Don't tell me that all I can do is hide
Don't tell me to just pretend away
all the shame and self-hate
as if I were assigned some cruel fate
Where I feel like I'm nothing forever
Never!
I refuse to keep living a lie
No, pain, you can't make me
though I know you tried
I'm awake now and your credibility is fried
your access to my heart denied
I've cried enough in solitude and silence
Your violence ends today.
So in this my brother I pray for you
That you find that this is true
That your life is more than an empty tune
That pain said you had to sing.
The you that God intended you to be
Let him out, He set him free
Through blood spilled to wash him clean
This is the new song we have to sing.
Dec 9, 2017
Dec 9, 2017 at 8:43 AM UTC
All she can do is cry,
All she can feel is pain.
No one even dare to take her hand.
Sobbing, she wants to leave.
Saying to herself, it's easier to die than to survive and live.
Bang! Kills herself.
Dec 9, 2017
Dec 9, 2017 at 8:14 AM UTC
Popping clouds right atop,
Inside you are. Painting
curves your language is,
Sending gentle blooming bliss.
#dream #longing
Dec 9, 2017
Dec 9, 2017 at 8:13 AM UTC