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It is not great men who change the world, but weak men in the hands of a great God...

Oswald Chambers
trying to figure it out
thoughts spinning
going nowhere
accomplishing nothing

be still
in MY Presence
let Me
control your thoughts

let My Light
soak
into your heart
and mind

aglow
with My
very
Being

now

receive My Peace...

cj 2016
Now may the Lord of peace Himself give you peace always in every way.  The Lord be with you all.  II Thessalonians 3:16
 Jul 2016 RatherNotSay
Eloi
She was oxygen,
But toxic,
Purified but nostalgic,
Transparent but also  hard to read.

She was ice water,
Infused with a dime and a quarter,
Costing you to live,
But somehow always keeping you alive.

She was a sunset in black,
A night sky in red,
She spread her thoughts all over your bed,
When she breathed you felt diseased,
And always had the need; to tell her she is beautiful.

You stare when she's not looking,
And stare when she is,
No matter what, you know exactly who she is.
You know everything about her,
Hair and eye colour,
And every single suicidal thought that she had ever had.

You were intertwined with her;
Back street lovers,
Making A ship out of a wreck of two denying hearts and minds.
poems

are like grapes

squeezed
from the winepress

of grief
and sorrow....


cj 2016
we live yet one more day to gain yet one more measure of compassion from our experiencial suffering...and to tell about it
 Jul 2016 RatherNotSay
cgembry
Waters pour
From clouds on high
Restoring life
To a world so dry

I long to be reborn
Like the grass and grain
So I kick off my shoes
To dance with the rain
 Jul 2016 RatherNotSay
cgembry
I dreamed up a world
Where reality had tilted
And the sky traded places
With the sea
We walked on streets
Of fluffy clouds
Caught stars in fishing nets
While gazing up at celestial waters
Making wishes on flying whales
smile is a crack
filled with joy
which bonds
hearts and hearts together
and minds and minds forever
 Jul 2016 RatherNotSay
NV
i'm telling you.
the clouds were meant for the ground.
but they hung themselves.
I was told a brain on poem was a terrible thing to waste . To which I retorted ,"Which one is wasted?"
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