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  May 2018 MaYJa
Emily Dickinson

We grow accustomed to the Dark—
When light is put away—
As when the Neighbor holds the Lamp
To witness her Goodbye—

A Moment—We uncertain step
For newness of the night—
Then—fit our Vision to the Dark—
And meet the Road—*****—

And so of larger—Darkness—
Those Evenings of the Brain—
When not a Moon disclose a sign—
Or Star—come out—within—

The Bravest—***** a little—
And sometimes hit a Tree
Directly in the Forehead—
But as they learn to see—

Either the Darkness alters—
Or something in the sight
Adjusts itself to Midnight—
And Life steps almost straight.
MaYJa Sep 2014
this battle was won before the benining
or lemme say before Genesis,
yeah; I prolly sound crazy
to be saying this.
But See, before Jesus came
God already saw beyond Revelation,
everything was pre-destined to be perfect
even after mans own manipulation.

So all this you see today
and discribe as a radical revolution
was foreseen before time by God as a Chosen genaration,
way back before Adam called himself man
God already saw the possibility of his fall,
dont take me wrong though,
God never intended for man to fall.
He created Him with free will,
gave him the ability to choose between cold or hot,
so we cant blame God for our stone cold hearts,
or for times we literally decide to obey him not;
we were designed to be victors,
not victims that will never live in HIS glory,
we were created to be saints,
even though we pay alot of attention to sin when it comes to our personal life story.

Wait, wait, wait,

dont you find it ironic, that in genesis 1:28,
right after creating man God doesnt tell them to worship him?
Instead be fruitfull, multiply and subdue; conquer
to mention a few; Is what he tells them; cant you see we were meant to be like him.
thats why even Christ on earth as man
Would still exercise all the power and authority man was given,
He didnt need a glorious face like Moses to be noticed,
Or a fancy crown of a king for our sins to be forgiven,
all HE needed was preaching and practising the Fathers life
in each and every step he took; thats why He conquered
The same world He created He died for, and His love for us
kept him on that cross nailed and brutally totured.
Same way the walls of Jericho came down when Joshua and the troops shouted
So did Christ reclaim the world back to us when He shouted 'it is Finished',
the story doesnt end there though, like in the times of Noah He had to go and
prepare more than an ark for us; from the sound of that am relieved.

See, this is the reason I smile everyday
When I look at the picture of the king Jesus,
Seated on the right hand of the Father
for I understand why he was broken to pieces,
I refuse to live a life any less than what I was created to be
due to personal ignorance
Instead I make sure I maximize each and everyday
Leaving no room for negative activities tolarance,
I watch my talking, walking and what I put into my mind to a point were
Psychology certifies am suffering from an uncommon madness,
Thats funny though, I dont understand the reason
They judge me based on there on weakness,
Fear! One of the feelings I never experience
I look striaght into the eye of a storm and say,
'do your worst; I dare you,
I will never raise my fist up
because my God is there too!'
I am more than David with a sling shot,
even more than Solomon, David, Joshua and Goliath combined dude,
I have Christ in me, yes the resurected Messiah dwells within my soul,
So I fought this battle too, and it was over before it even started,
**I just had to remind you!
Deep from the heart to my readers. This is me
MaYJa Aug 2014
Money cant buy Love, and Love cant buy bread either.
Be wise in your thinking
MaYJa Jul 2014
''You can still look **** without potraying *** in pictures''
MaYJa Jul 2014
. . . I have been seeking a new kingdom to call home and your heart, like a castle hides behind great walls,
where both the strong and weak share embarassing flaws.
Unlike just any castle, yours is not on top of a great hill,
nor in the midist of a forest beyond where the waters chill,
its right infront of everyones face who decides to pay attention,
funny that many by pass it because they never seek it, but are ever seeking attention.
Unlike in fairytales, its guarded by pride, humbleness, care and a huge ego,
it rages against anyone who tries to love and care for it, but when it loves back, it never lets go.
Like any castle out there, forcing yourself in will hurt both you and those in it,
the hours you'll take destroying can not be compared to the years you'll take rebuilding it.

So I made up my mind to stand at the gates of these great walls, perfectly built brick for brick,
to proclaim my honour and loyalty for you,to make a promise and stick to it,
because I would rather help you guard it, than play pirate to break down your walls.
So Knight me your majesty, as I report for duty to guard and protect everything that lays behind your great walls. . .
. . . let me make it my new home. . .
  Jul 2014 MaYJa
Sylvia Plath
'Perspective betrays with its dichotomy:
train tracks always meet, not here, but only
    in the impossible mind's eye;
horizons beat a retreat as we embark
on sophist seas to overtake that mark
    where wave pretends to drench real sky.'

'Well then, if we agree, it is not odd
that one man's devil is another's god
    or that the solar spectrum is
a multitude of shaded grays; suspense
on the quicksands of ambivalence
    is our life's whole nemesis.

So we could rave on, darling, you and I,
until the stars tick out a lullaby
    about each cosmic pro and con;
nothing changes, for all the blazing of
our drastic jargon, but clock hands that move
    implacably from twelve to one.

We raise our arguments like sitting ducks
to knock them down with logic or with luck
    and contradict ourselves for fun;
the waitress holds our coats and we put on
the raw wind like a scarf; love is a faun
    who insists his playmates run.

Now you, my intellectual leprechaun,
would have me swallow the entire sun
    like an enormous oyster, down
the ocean in one gulp: you say a mark
of comet hara-kiri through the dark
    should inflame the sleeping town.

So kiss: the drunks upon the curb and dames
in dubious doorways forget their monday names,
    caper with candles in their heads;
the leaves applaud, and santa claus flies in
scattering candy from a zeppelin,
    playing his prodigal charades.

The moon leans down to took; the tilting fish
in the rare river wink and laugh; we lavish
    blessings right and left and cry
hello, and then hello again in deaf
churchyard ears until the starlit stiff
    graves all carol in reply.

Now kiss again: till our strict father leans
to call for curtain on our thousand scenes;
    brazen actors mock at him,
multiply pink harlequins and sing
in gay ventriloquy from wing to wing
    while footlights flare and houselights dim.

Tell now, we taunq where black or white begins
and separate the flutes from violins:
    the algebra of absolutes
explodes in a kaleidoscope of shapes
that jar, while each polemic jackanapes
    joins his enemies' recruits.

The paradox is that 'the play's the thing':
though prima donna pouts and critic stings,
    there burns throughout the line of words,
the cultivated act, a fierce brief fusion
which dreamers call real, and realists, illusion:
    an insight like the flight of birds:

Arrows that lacerate the sky, while knowing
the secret of their ecstasy's in going;
    some day, moving, one will drop,
and, dropping, die, to trace a wound that heals
only to reopen as flesh congeals:
    cycling phoenix never stops.

So we shall walk barefoot on walnut shells
of withered worlds, and stamp out puny hells
    and heavens till the spirits squeak
surrender: to build our bed as high as jack's
bold beanstalk; lie and love till sharp scythe hacks
    away our rationed days and weeks.

Then jet the blue tent topple, stars rain down,
and god or void appall us till we drown
    in our own tears: today we start
to pay the piper with each breath, yet love
knows not of death nor calculus above
    the simple sum of heart plus heart.
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