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Nov 2022 · 727
Laughing sounds
A Psalmist Nov 2022
The laughing sounds
they must abound
filling space all around
to make ripe the ground
for the anguish to be drowned.
Sep 2021 · 554
Shush
A Psalmist Sep 2021
I whisper to my heart
Shush
When it is anxious.
It will then rush
to respond in a voice, hushed
No.
Sep 2021 · 169
Impasta syndrome
A Psalmist Sep 2021
When I try to take my thoughts
And put Penne to Pappardelle
I can never find a proper rigaToni
Orzo I thought...
I'll just embrace being fuSilly
Sep 2021 · 160
Fleeting hope
A Psalmist Sep 2021
Help me decide if
this pain is simply
exhaustion
boredom
loneliness
burn out
or fleeting.
But don't tell me if it's depression.
I can't handle that right now.
Sep 2021 · 856
Leaflet
A Psalmist Sep 2021
You picked me from the masses
Taken from the grasses
"I'll remember you forever"
So I'm stored between the covers
Pressed and crushed within the pages
Just like all the others
And over time, I am dried
No more tears left to cry.
I am just another leaflet
In your book of memories
Mar 2021 · 4.3k
Phoenix in Flight
A Psalmist Mar 2021
Phoenix in flight, watch him in the sky
Engulfed in flames, ready to die
Phoenix in flight, watch him crash and burn
All things pass, today is his turn

Phoenix in plight, see him struggle to survive
Headed to the ground in a fiery nose-dive
Phoenix in plight, see him succumb to his fate
Extinguished by his own destiny innate

Phoenix in fight, look at him glow as an ember
Dwelling on the life he used to remember
Phoenix in fight, look at him flicker a flare
Letting go of the old, grasping for air

Phoenix in light, behold his bursting blaze
Reborn from trial in a smoky haze
Phoenix in light, behold his glory
Scorching a new chapter to his story

Phoenix in might, witness as his radiance shines
Fueled by desire to become divine
Phoenix in might, witness as his brilliance flashes
Because no matter what, he will rise from the ashes
I'm not  the same as I was a year ago, and that doesn't have to be a bad thing.
Feb 2021 · 174
blatherskite
A Psalmist Feb 2021
blatherskite
It's just a word
Noises heard
syllables aligned
Formed in the mind
Letters on a page
Lines taking center stage

Jumble some letters
give it a meaning
make these air waves
seem appealing

But we value some sound
more than others
Especially those
that come from lovers
Feb 2021 · 211
Yo
A Psalmist Feb 2021
Yo
Yo
yo
I am back again
not because I want to.
But because I have to.
And I'll keep coming back
until I have no mo'.
'Tis the life of a yo-yo.
Been wanting to return to HP and unclog my mind. 2020 was a sh-tshow, so now I need a mental flush
Mar 2019 · 251
Who Weeps
A Psalmist Mar 2019
7 billion people in the world; they say you can’t love every one,
But shouldn’t all 7 billion at least be loved by someone?
We all have our circles of family and friends,
And I’m not saying love them any less,
But what about those who aren’t as blessed?
Who loves them in their distress?
Who will look beyond the mistakes
And weep with them in their heartache?

Who weeps for the woman holding the sign
At the off-ramp for all the cars in a line,
Bearing looks of disdain behind rolled up windows
Bearing more shame as each car goes?
A helping hand might stretch out food or a twenty
But none of that helps when she says she’s so lonely,
That she’s “so **** depressed” as people drive right on by.
Who stands with her as tears fill her eyes?

Who weeps for the man on the bench waiting
For an opportunity to come, as his hope’s fading?
A former carpenter, skilled with his hands,
Willing to work but not given a second chance.
He hides his desperate eyes behind sunglasses
From all the wealth and comfort as it passes.
He doesn’t know where the past 7 months have gone,
But he’s not searching for that, just somewhere he belongs.

Who weeps for the girl who doesn’t lie about her “needs”,
Her cardboard asking for money, food, alcohol, and ****?
And for her request, it’s judgement she’s received
From people who don’t know she’s been on the streets since 16,
Kicked out of the house at the hands of abuse
By an alcoholic father who has a short fuse.
Her life reduced to just the next meal;
Who cares for her when she says it’s no big deal.

Who weeps for the man who sits on the steps
Trying to fight his addiction to ****?
He wants to change; he knows it’s ruining his life.
He lost his restaurant, his home, and even his wife.
Brochures in hand from multiple rehab centers,
The last thing he needs are glances calling him  sinner.
He needs someone who will help him through the fight.
Who will walk with him just to make it through the night?

Who weeps for Kat, Zona, Lilith and Robert
And so many like them going through hurt?
The answer to this question I’ve posed:
It’s the One whose tears matter most.
A God not distanced from His creation
But who weeps for the pain in all of the nations,
Who weeps over death even though there’s life in His name,
Who calls those who mourn blessed because He comforts them again.
Jesus loves all the least of these:
The poor in spirit, the beggar, and the meek.
He welcomes the marginalized and ostracized,
The minimized and disenfranchised,
And it’s not until we realize
This truth with our own eyes
Will we no longer just stand by.

We don’t have to tell Him about all this injustice
Because He is a sovereign God who can be trusted.
He cares about them more than we ever could,
It is in His nature to always be good.
Again, who weeps for them?
Jesus weeps BECAUSE He is for them.
He’s promised to bring healing and restore all things.
He will wipe away every tear as our King of kings.
But while this time is not yet, we shouldn’t be idle.
Out own comfort and self-preservation should not be an idol.
So go out and love and weep, but not as a project to help others,
Rather because everyone is an image bearer of God, our sister and brother.
Be ready to wait, to walk, to love, to feed His sheep
And do so in the strength of a God who loves, a God who weeps.
Inspired by some friends who live on the streets near where I work.
Mar 2019 · 403
The Daze
A Psalmist Mar 2019
The days seem longer
When hands remain idle
When thoughts are empty
When goals aren't present
When phones aren't ringing
When clocks are creeping
When the sun is inching


But that gives plenty of time
to run away to day dreams.
Mar 2019 · 393
Lyricist Dreams
A Psalmist Mar 2019
When you remember in your dreams
making poems and rhymes
then you can rest assured
that poetry is in your heart.
I woke up remembering a dream of putting on a 1 man theatrical performance and getting 3 songs deep into Act 1. Hoping Act 2 comes tonight.
Mar 2019 · 324
Unwrapped Present
A Psalmist Mar 2019
You say I should open up more
I don't know what that means but I'll try.
But before you see me up-close,
it's best I at least know what's inside.
So in isolation I pull back the paper
anxious to get to know myself.
I push through my cardboard exterior
to find my own secrets I've held.

My eyes surprised with what I find:
Character traits so deeply hidden.
The flaws of pride and self-expectation,
In my mind, both of which are forbidden.
At my core, I live my life
Full of "should" and "could"
Enslaved to the need to do something
Always for the greater good.

I don't know what it means to rest
Or find reprieve from work.
A moment void of productivity
Would surely send me berserk.
And there's the irony
as I seek to resolve this,
Defining rest for myself
Is another item on my to-do list.

So if you want to know me
I gift you with this mess
A person addicted to achievement
Living a life that's relentless.
And to this new true me
There's but one thing I can say,
"You've been unwrapped in this present,
Welcome and happy birthday!"
After a few days thinking about work and rest, I see myself unable to find rest in anything. The more times I ask "why?", the more I'm left seeing it's just who I am. And that leaves me caught up in a whirlwind of emotions.
Feb 2019 · 374
Good Boy
A Psalmist Feb 2019
They pat me on my head and feed me some food
When I run into the rain to fetch them their fruit.
Dripping on their porch, I give them their prize
Then they close their door as I remain outside.
My tail no longer wagging, "Good boy" they call me
But I am a watered melancholy watermelon collie.
What part of any of that is good?
Feb 2019 · 356
Pendulum Life
A Psalmist Feb 2019
I find my days are stuck                                                                                  
                                                                  Swinging between two extremes  
Joy                                                                                                                        
                                                                                                      And sorrow  
I would love to remain on one end                                                                
                                                                                But even more than that  

I just wish that my days would be                                                                 Still
Feb 2019 · 432
THINGS I SAY (in my head)
A Psalmist Feb 2019
Yeah, I'm good (to talk about it now)
~~~
I don't care where we eat (as long as it's together)
~~~
Work was fine (considering I'm discontent with my job)
~~~
Nothing is wrong (this is just who I am)
~~~
I love you (more than my words will ever say)
An internal processor practicing being more forthcoming
Feb 2019 · 241
Numbers
A Psalmist Feb 2019
We are all statistics for someone's narrative
But statistics are only numbers
Until you know their story.
Because then, those stats have a name
a face. a meaning. a purpose.

When you look at people,
don't count numbers,
because you can't see numbers
without being numb...
Feb 2019 · 385
Rip Current Eyes
A Psalmist Feb 2019
The passing seconds of all of my days
Lead to me being pulled into your longing gaze
Every fleeting moment in this prolonged past time
Snatches the life that I thought was mine
My intent was never to stare
But now, I'm stuck in a glare
Your dazzling tide has brought me slowly in
Luring me from where I had been
Past the safety of the breakers, my inhibitions
Into your world, full submission
Fully submerged, content if I die
Caught up in your rip current eyes
You think this only happens in movies/TV until it happens to you
Nov 2017 · 511
The Yellow Light
A Psalmist Nov 2017
You know me.
You see me,
But you don't really see "me".
You see me as what you want me to be:
Either still a green
Or a not-yet red,
But never yellow.

But why do I care?
Because let's be real,
I'm never around long enough
for your liking anyway.
Nov 2017 · 627
Empty
A Psalmist Nov 2017
10 miles 'til empty
And I am almost there,
Been driving all night
To get to Nowhere.
Throughout the night
I've been left with my thoughts,
Focusing on the end
So I don't get lost.

     5 miles 'til empty
     And my journey's almost done.
     The new beginning
     is on the horizon.
     I packed up my life
     To see what's in store
     Because the old me
     Desperately wanted more.

            2 miles 'til empty
            And my heart is racing fast
            Because of my tank
            And all that has passed.
            Will this life be better?
            Will it keep me satisfied?
            I will only know
            At the end of this ride.

                    0 miles 'til empty
                   And I am now here,
                   Alone in this place
                   With only my fear.
                   In this isolation
                   I realize the truth
                   That I really did love
                   the life of my youth.

                              my heart is empty,
                              it's all my fault.
                              my rebirthing journey
                              has come to a halt.
                              i don’t want to be here.
                              i wish i never came.
                              i want to go back
                              to when things were the same.

                                             My tank is empty
                                             But my hope is not.
                                             I’ll head straight back
                                             With only my thoughts.
                                             Each step I take
                                             Is one step closer
                                             To getting off
                                             This roller coaster.

10,000 miles ‘til home
And I’m almost there,
I’ll walk through the night
To end this nightmare.
The distance is great
But this first step is a start
In returning back to
The home of my heart.
We all want change, but we really don't know what we have until it's gone. Take a moment and see the good around you. Be thankful for your life, even if you wish it were different.
Nov 2017 · 1.2k
Message Unsent
A Psalmist Nov 2017
Send Nudes
No, not you. Me.
No, not like that. I'll keep My clothes on.
Can I send nudes:
Myself, stripped.
Stripped of facades
Of pride
Of the masquerades.
Can I send you me:
the me of private
of insecurity,
the me I am when no one else is around.
Because no one knows that **** me,
and thus
I don't ever feel truly wanted.
Or truly known.
Can you bear it?
If I were to bare it?
Just let me know.
So, should I
Send Nudes?
Nov 2017 · 284
Realize
A Psalmist Nov 2017
I've been having those moments
Where you stop and think
"How did my life get to this point?"
1 year, 2 years, 5 years ago
You didn't think you'd be where you are today
And in that whirlwind of confusion and realization
You push back against all the regrets and second guesses
Because you realize that Today
is actually pretty great.
Don't know where I'm going, just where I've been
And taking comfort knowing that this isn't the end.
Jun 2017 · 915
My Account
A Psalmist Jun 2017
I know we're both broke
And I may not have all the answers
To all of your questions,
But I'll give you my two cents
From my wealth of knowledge
If you just spend a little time
And pay attention.
Who knows
I might catch your interest,
And in the end
We both might end up a little less broken.
May 2017 · 1.6k
Puddle Lover
A Psalmist May 2017
I used to love jumping in puddles,
Not a care in the world.
I'd splash as big as I could.
Now I avoid them
Because, well, that's what grown-ups do.
May 2017 · 1.9k
A Deep Poem
A Psalmist May 2017
I want to be deep like the ocean
     But I'm merely a puddle
I want to be deep like a canyon
     But I'm just a ditch
I want to be deep like the universe
But deep down I know
     I enjoy being silly
     More than being taken seriously
May 2017 · 1.1k
Calling Mom
A Psalmist May 2017
It's been two weeks
He says it's felt longer
I ask how he's been
He says he didn't think it'd be this hard
I ask what's the hardest
He says putting the phone down
When he feels like calling Mom
Forgetting she's no longer around
To answer
Be thankful for your mother today, because there are so many who aren't celebrating mother's day for the first time.
May 2017 · 3.8k
Panda Ring
A Psalmist May 2017
You black and white beasts
From the far east,
Oh, how I long to be invited to your panda feasts.
I put on my panda hat with my panda suit,
Tie my panda tie and my panda shoes.
I arrive at your gate with all my panda bling,
But you say, for me to enter, I must wear your panda ring.
That doesn’t sound so bad if that’s all I need to do
To be allowed to enter and eat bamboo with you.
I’ve waited for this moment, longed to be accepted.
But, to be honest, it’s not what I expected.
Although I am so close, and the ring looks nice,
I hesitate for a second, take a moment to think twice.
Is this what my life has come to, debating a “panda ring”?
Enslaved to every whim of the panda king,
Doing what he wants me to, just to be approved,
Once I put that ring on, it cannot be removed.
No, I will not stoop to a panda ring,
I have my own bear song to sing.
As I say goodbye, waving my bare hand,
I notice panda rings on all their bear hands.
Spotless I return, back home to the ice,
Ready to chill out and live a polarized life.
#panda #ring #pandaring #pandering #individual #bear
May 2017 · 505
Fishbowl
A Psalmist May 2017
I've got a fishbowl between my shoulders
So the whole world can see inside.
They want to know what I'm thinking
And what's on my mind.
Everyone gathers around
Coming from everywhere.
But the jokes on them, you see
Because there's nothing in there.
May 2017 · 387
In Spectre
A Psalmist May 2017
The hazy air lingered in the room
Wafting the scent of bodies exhumed.
The temperature dropped
And my heart stopped
But my legs didn't follow suit,
Nor did my mind, struck by a curious kiss.
To pass by the cloud would be an opportunity missed.
So left, then right, then left again
Pressing onward into the chilling den.
Held by the need to know,
I pressed closer towards the threshold.
Despite all the signs in front of my face,
I never felt more alive in the spectre's embrace.
A Psalmist Jul 2016
Death doesn't discriminate
It doesn't see black or blue
But it sure as hell leaves a bruise.
Its punches and beatings repeating
On the news each evening
Until we're left bleeding,
Crying and pleading
For this to stop
Because this "news" is starting to get old.
Death is never satisfied;
It whispers its lies
That It is the answer to all your problems,
That your thirst for vengeance will subside
If you claim just one victim.
And when the blood is poured out
And as death sips its red ***,
We are left awake in its wake
With a ticker-tape parade
Because of one vigilante's charades
of marching to the beat of his own drum.
But let us at least take note of that
before we vilify an entire people group
And start acting brash based on looks
whether it's skin color or uniform.
Death shows no discrimination, so neither should life
My life or your life; our lives are the life blood of this nation
So let's **** out discrimination
lest we bleed out from prejudiced incrimination.
Jul 2016 · 3.2k
The Onion
A Psalmist Jul 2016
I am an onion
Hiding behind all my layers.
I stand in the rain
Eating wasabi
Cutting tiny pieces of myself.
I hide behind all my layers
So no one knows if or why I am crying
Because, as an onion,
I am not the one who's supposed to cry.
Jun 2016 · 1.0k
Up↓//Down↑
A Psalmist Jun 2016
Money, fame, worldly securities.
If you have them you will never need
Faith, hope, love, and things like these,
You should only seek out the important things
Which gives life true meaning.
Family, friends, beliefs and dreams,
All that is nice, but a good life requires
Power acquired, fulfilled ****** desire, fortune transpired.
Life will surely continue and be pleasant without
Anything abstract or intangible, no doubt.
The finer things in life always come from
A bigger this, a newer that, a stable income.
Just look at what the people at the top own;
Money can buy happiness 'til the day you die
And yet people still buy into the lie
Living for others is not a wasted life.
It's a truth that should trickle from the top-down,
But what if these words were read the other way around.
*read down then up
Jun 2016 · 2.8k
A Simple Wish
A Psalmist Jun 2016
"I wish you were here
I wish I had your shoulder to cry on
Your warmth to rely on
Your listening ear,
I wish you were here
I wish it were that easy"
I wish someone wished that about me.
Jun 2016 · 10.8k
The Chef
A Psalmist Jun 2016
He knows so many techniques
He has proven his recipes
The ingredients are there
And he's ready to create
But instead of waiting for his ideas to marinate
Sometimes it's better
To just go raw.
Because like any good chef
he can make things up on the go.
And like every chef
He is the first to taste
and first impressions dominate.
For better or worse.
Jun 2016 · 530
Inside
A Psalmist Jun 2016
It's safe inside
No one will make them come out
But when I want them to
The words just won't.
A Psalmist Jun 2016
Death doesn't discriminate
Quite frankly, He doesn't care
Once He's out of the barrel
Whizzing through midair.
Gay, straight, Lesbian or Bi
You have no control if you die.
But the finger that pulled the trigger
Now that's a different story.
But motives mean nothing to the family in mourning
This morning.
There's nothing you could say
or explain away that would bring comfort today.
If you told them it was religion or a hate crime
that doesn't give them any more time.
And it's the outpouring of speechless faces
Awestruck gazes
That should shake us awake
in every state from our state of denial.
These cold steel devices have become our vices
becoming our own rod of judgement in bringing "justice".  
A disagreement in lifestyle does not warrant a life.
If you feel offended, just turn the other cheek
And prevent tears from streaming down cheeks.
Death might not discriminate, but those who discriminate bring death.
Whether it's in the form of a gun
Or a loved one being shunned.
Life is precious and sacred
And if someone has it, you shouldn't take it.
Jun 2016 · 9.2k
Death Doesn't Discriminate
A Psalmist Jun 2016
Death doesn't discriminate
It is not a black and white matter
It isn't brown or yellow either
Some die slow and others faster.
Young and old, rich and poor
You don't know when
He'll come knocking on your door.
But you do know He will.
And He won't stop until
He has His fill.
So, if Death is my enemy
And He is also yours
It only makes sense
To join forces in this war
Because the enemy of my enemy
should also be my friend
So we should make an alliance
and put petty fighting to an end.
If Death doesn't discriminate, neither should we
'Cause that will only lead to our defeat.
The title comes from a line in Hamilton's "Wait for it".
A Psalmist Jun 2016
What amnesia is this? I can’t remember.
Can someone wake me up, September?
I know what I know, or I think I thought I did.
I see what you’ve shown me and heard what you said.
But is it in one ear and out the other?
Is short term memory loss something I suffer?
I have seen your goodness time and time again,
And that makes perfect sense why I continue to sin.
Wait, what? That doesn’t make any sense!
Yet that’s what continues to happen after repentance.
I taste and see that the Lord is good.
But I don’t see and savor Christ as I should.
I know this must change if I want to draw nearer,
So I’m starting with the man in the mirror.
He’s broken, bad luck for seven years,
Of confusion and chaos about things unclear.
A response to an altar call, where that came from I can’t say,
But did it ever come at all, if he wasn’t altered in any way?
And I’m not talking about the 3 years still at home,
I think that pertains to my 4 years on my own.
I’ve been told so much truth and studied the Word,
But all for naught because I can’t recall what I’ve heard.
I sin because I forget, and I forget because I sin,
A vicious cycle with no apparent end.
I look at myself in the mirror, and want to remember when I go,
But as soon as I leave, he’s just somebody that I used to know.
And I wish it was a fault of the mirror, of why I forget so fast,
That it was the mirror that was broken, or at least made with stained glass
Because the reflection is of someone who’s stained,
Stained with sin and a stain on his face,
Both known by him, while abstaining from grace,
Because it’s this grace that makes him feel like a disgrace,
A misfit who’s been misplaced,
Who’s misused and abused grace.
Because I know I’ve been cleaned from all my mess ups.
But still trying to apply cover-up and make-up.
Trying to cover-up sin so no one can possibly see
And trying to make-up for what I’ve done despite being set free.
I want to forget these, I’ve wanted and I’ve tried,
To remember grace and forget what I’ve applied.
That I’ve applied myself too much and I’ve applied fake-up,
Trying to fake it ‘til I make it, but making myself throw-up,
Throw up my arms and say I can’t take it anymore.
I know I can’t remember a lot but I know I’ve gone through this before.
It’s a familiar feeling, this déjà vu.
It’s a familiar feeling, this déjà vu.

That I am annoyed with my memory destroyed,
That I don’t know how to remember and I forget how to think
And my chain of thoughts has a missing link.
When did I forget how to fight sin? That loving God wasn’t a chore?
Why can’t I remember the joy he’s shown me before?
When did I forget how beautiful He is?
When did I stop saying “He is mine and I am his”?
I don’t know if I want to know, I’m scared to find out
I’m afraid to readdress my old foe of doubt.
I thought he was slain; we had a battle and he lost it.
But I guess that wasn’t the case. He’s just a skeleton in my closet.
And he’s got a bone to pick with me, some business unfinished.
He’s back for round two and this time with a vengeance.
If he wants another go, I’ll try my best
To recall what I know, and pass this history test.
So what was it before, what truth did I heed?
How can I remind myself of what I need?
I don’t know…..i guess I’m history.
I can’t remember how I last had victory.
But just because I didn’t know doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.
And that right there was the lie I was trapped in.
Two years ago was more than a matter of salvation,
I was questioning exactly when I had regeneration.
Was it high school? College? Was it still to come?
I knew I had seen change but where was it from?
But someone can know if they’ve been born, even if they don’t know their birthday.
And I can apply that train of thought in a similar way.
I don’t know how to love God like I used to,
But just because I can’t remember doesn’t mean I never knew.
Things aren’t as black and white, not a matter of hot or cold.
There are such things as infernos that start to grow old.
There can be blazes that start to dwindle,
But that just means it’s time to rekindle.
God knows we are prone to forget and drift into embers
But that’s why his word instructs us to remember.
If we could always abide, he wouldn’t give us those commands,
But it’s because we fall down does he tell us to stand.
To stand firm in our faith, fixing our eyes on Jesus
To look in the mirror and think of how He sees us,
How he seized us to clean us,
To redeem us and teach us,
To tell us to remember what he’s done on the cross,
To give us solid faith, and not be a wave that is tossed.
But don’t get me wrong, amnesia can be good because even Jesus forgets
He remembers our sin no more, they’re as far as the east is from the west.
And that’s why I don’t recognize the man in the mirror.
I’m expecting to see someone who’s no longer here.
The old me is dead, a memory from the past.
He was destined to die, never meant to last.
So in this time of personal reflection,
I need to see myself through Christ’s resurrection.
My identity isn’t in all the wrong I have done.
It is a soldier, a servant, and especially a son.
If there’s one thing I want to share that I’ve learned over the years
It’s that sanctification isn’t easy, but I urge you to persevere.
We’re all on a journey, and I say don’t stop believing.
Think of the praise we will be receiving.
“well done my good and faithful servant.”
Hearing that from the one who’s love is perfect.
There will be sin and doubt, persecution and suffering,
But oh the joy that comes from being with our king!
So I encourage you to remember truth and fight the good fight,
And don’t ever forget in the dark what you’ve learned in the light.
Jun 2016 · 843
An Ocean Away
A Psalmist Jun 2016
Tomorrow was once an ocean away
Full of solemn waves and dismal tides
My insides craved for that day
When I would find a way
To hoist up my anchor of pride.
My inability to navigate the noise
Of the ebb and flow of loneliness
Was keeping me down
With my hope keeping me afloat.
How was I, an empty vessel,
to cross the complacent-sea with out a boat?
Honestly, it was an atrocity
Thought would only be solved by generosity.
I couldn't sail beneath the stars
With out any compass-ion: yours.
You made the hollow tides shift
And helped me complete my trip
All on the best ship
Friendship.
Jun 2016 · 387
WORTH
A Psalmist Jun 2016
Why do we desire it?
Or rather,  why do we attribute it?
Reality says it's relative
Though, that doesn't stop us.
Here I am, trying to prove it.
Jun 2016 · 490
(10w):Vol. I
A Psalmist Jun 2016
~~~~

Art
in it's purest form
is not what we think.

~~~~
~~~~

I'm too tired to sleep
but too alive to die.

~~~~
~~~~

To whom do I owe
the pleasure
of fighting for.
The first one came out during a "free association writing" session. I've been dwelling on it for a couple days, and I would be interested to hear what you think.
Jun 2016 · 594
Treasure and Bride
A Psalmist Jun 2016
As the brook babbles sweetly o'er the hedges
there is but one voice I hear.
It hums and sings, calling out solely
     for His Treasure and Bride
He has scattered love notes all around
Placing them on stems and sticks
Leaving them in the sky's warmth
And in its cool kiss.
He knows His Treasure and Bride.
Nothing escapes His watchful sight:
No thought, no feeling, no prayer.
He calls his most beloved by these two names.
One incomplete without the other.

He declares its value before all other kings.
There are no stones or metals more precious,
Rubies are not as rich, sapphires are not as scarce
Gold holds no comparison in His eyes.
As the King of kings, He takes the choicest of all that is valued.
So He calls the one He loves His Treasure.
He boasts in His Treasure.
Pure unlike anything else.
The voice that gives the Treasure its worth also declares its authority.

Yes, a worthy treasure, but more so a lovely Bride.
His beloved owns both titles.
If left as just a treasure, then it would be like all others.
He says his Treasure is more than an object.
Not a trophy gained from His most difficult battle.
One does not die for an object or possession.
He makes His treasure His Bride.
Their lives into one, a full union.
Worth beyond all other treasures and love surpassing anything else.
His Bride and Treasure.
Both are needed to see the one He loves through His eyes.
If only Bride, there may be question
As to His delight or devotion.
Yes, He could lay down His life,
But oh where is the joy?

Bride and Treasure.
Intimacy and delight.
Sacrifice and zeal.
His words etched into time.
Never to be moved.
Never to be doubted.
His love will last all of His days.

As His whispers waft in the breeze
His Love hears and knows that He beckons.
Purely to be, to exist, to commune
And in every moment, He reminds
Of how He found His Treasure and sold all He had
     to make her His Bride.
A Psalmist Jun 2016
There once was a lingering Almost
That followed you like a ghost.
She's haunted your past
Leaves you downcast
and both lifeless and comatose

She decided to stay for a while
So long that she had a child
His name is Regret
who will make you forget
Exactly how to reconcile

But one day you decide you've had enough
And demand that they pack up their stuff
They were so close to leaving
And almost believing
Until they called your bluff.
Jun 2016 · 976
The Insomniac's Dream
A Psalmist Jun 2016
The funny thing is it wasn't always this way
As if he was forced from his bed
Kicked out by the thing he craves.
Reason tells him it's okay
That it's all in his head
And that she is lying there safe.

But try telling that to his heart
Convinced of its own reality
with each beat in his shirt
Drenched in a cold hyperbole.

So he'll trade his sleep away
To take up the night watch
As if he can offer an ounce of assurance
In hopes of keeping his dream
from becoming
A nightmare.
Jun 2016 · 803
Just Table It
A Psalmist Jun 2016
You caught my eye and wouldn't let go
I tried to work past it but you said "no".
You didn't consume my thoughts before
But now that I've noticed, you demand more.
Your presence controls me like an addict
So like an itch on my head, I scratch it.
Just once; no, twice, again and again
just hoping that scratching will bring this to an end
Because I can't move on
Until I know you're gone.
I've seen others like you in the past
And I know you won't be the last
But I can't help but go insane
By seeing on my desk a coffee stain.
Jun 2016 · 873
After//math
A Psalmist Jun 2016
The tragedy's over, it's finite.
But it's still tragedy, it's infinite.
A single action multiplied through all of reality.
Two lives subtracted from this universe indefinitely.
One, deemed slightly odd, just wanted to get even
Emotions compounded, suspending all reason.
The other in a more integral union
Now leaving a remainder with no solution.
But regardless of identities, what's the difference
when actions like these have a sequence?
A series of lives lost;
Lost to the shell method
With empty shells bouncing on the floor
The death toll adding up more and more.
As a country, what is our limit?
what constitutes a significant digit?
We hear about tragedies with such frequency
we think "it won't happen to me".
And that might be the root of these events,
A mindset of disconnect.
That our lives all run parallel...but only until they intersect.
But the hole in that theory is that we're already in a universal set.
If we integrated that thought into the way we live
We  might have less families asking "iff"
Because that might be a tragedy on par:
Living as if our neighbors are imaginary parts.
So, let's shift our prime focus from our own simple interest
Before its outcome produces absolute divergence.
Jun 2016 · 401
Illuminate
A Psalmist Jun 2016
If I were blind, would I still notice
If I were blind, could I still see
The God of the universe all around me?
When I was blind, did I take a pause
To see the world with its beauty and flaws?
The beauty in the flaws, a divine duo despite its dysfunction
Both enhancing the other in the greatest of junctions.
There is light in this world, reflecting His image
Scattered throughout every city and village.
Joy dispersed, only a fraction refracted.
Hope eternal without it being retracted.
Despite the dark hidden in each heart
The light left its mark that could not depart;
Marks engraved that conquered the grave
Not to save face but provide saving grace
Not interested in the face of the earth
But wishing for us to have rebirth.
Upon the hill, the light could not be put out
Shining brightest in the shadows of doubt.
Because beyond the shadow of a doubt lies a flickering flame
Holding on for dear life, clinging to His name.
By this small light, we have gained a glimpse
Of the evidence of His fingerprints
Seeing, not the whole, but only a part
Is enough to plant seeds of faith in a heart.
But the condition of this world is not conducive to growth.
Lies are mixed with truth, and discernment is elusive to both.
Seeds need sunlight in order to flourish,
So lean towards the Son to be nourished.
His body the bread, His blood the wine:
The ultimate covenant to span all of time.
There's beauty in this marriage, light coming to dark,
Holiness and sin, the contrast is stark.
One magnifies the other when put side by side,
Which is exactly why Jesus died.
He saw what we can't: the condition of our heart.
And he did what we couldn't: gave us a restart.
White as snow from blood red
Void removed; life instead.
So, open your eyes, search the dark in the night
And open your heart to let there be light.

— The End —