Please don't be pretty,
please don't be pretty,
please don't be pretty,
please don't be pretty* . . .

Hi, it's so nice to meet you.

*Ah ****.

To work out the kinks
To get in the flow
Writing helps me to think

I write in the morning
The Spirit is willing
It helps me touch God
Don't care for top billing

I write in the morning
To be part of creation
Find a world of my own
From my inspiration

I write of my God
I give you fair warning
He gives me the words... so...
I write in the morning


SoulSurvivor
(C) 7/11/2016

You don't deserve it, but I forgive you every time.

I'm done.
This is the end.
You are not in control of me anyone.
I am myself and if that's not good enough for you
I don't care.
Your approval does not define me.
Your ideals do not confine me.
Like they say:
*Lions don't lose sleep on the opinion of sheep.

I thought I was above this.
I didn't think anyone could make me feel this way.
But ****** you make me giddy
And I can't pull my eyes away.

God is pure, strong and mighty,
With us as children of holy spirit,
We can praise and worship for,
Strength, help and holyspirit.

We as God's image could be,
Wise, wonderful , beautiful,
God is always there for u,
As long as we could be like him,
The mighty father in the universe.

We can do things like him,
Play, decorate and music,
Don't worry about the evilness,
God is always protecting u from evil.


My heavenly father,
My holy spirit,
My christ,
I know you can keep us in,
Your hands.

I told the moon
                       Couldn't find his light
                                     in his brightest
Nights
So the moon left me a light
                            A light in every story
                       To find his moonlight.

               By K-mari ©2016

I fell in love with a dancer once,
back before I'd come-of-age.
I was sitting in the audience with my family,
and she was up on-stage
along with five other dancers:
two couples and her partner.

The guys all dressed the same.
The girls all dressed the same.  
And yet this one stood out to me for reasons unexplained.
It wasn't just her pretty face -
In fact, all three were pretty -
but something in the grace she moved with,
as if she were the epitome of beauty.  

They wove in-and-out of each other in a spiraling ballet.
I strained to keep my gaze trained on her form,
as if she were the pearl in a gypsy's shell game
and I had my life-savings riding on the outcome.

The steps grew more dramatic.
The partners recoiled from each other.
The lights grew dim, for a second,
then the music crescendoed,
and with a grand flourish each couple reunited then froze in place.

A look of horror on my face as I realized the loveliest dancer's partner had made a mistake:
the hem of her skirt had got caught on the hand that was now on her waist,
and a black-leotarded wedge between her legs was on display for however many glorious, grueling, stomach-churning seconds that pose was held for until the lights went out.

The performance left me feeling a mix between elated and tragic,
and I sat staring into that blackness transfixed, as if
by some kind of magic.