I don't try to die anymore, and I thought my mother would appreciate that. She's still hung up on hoping I come to know Jesus before i do die, whenever that is. What she doesn't understand is that I know Jesus well. I was Jesus. I remember the faces of the centurions in my mind as they drove sharp objects through my wrist to atone for the sins of my abuser. I remember the days entombed, when I wallowed in the darkness with festering wounds. I remember the ressurection, when the angels removed my ******* and brought me once more into the light. I suppose she has a right to worry, though. I could get in to a car accident or something.

a feeling of incomplete awakening
where sleep has not set in before
a glimpse of another time and space
calm primordial darkness
pervading unity
predating everything
before the stars
and gravity
arcane sensation of belonging
expanding intuition warming
self-awareness fading in
thickening drive
for breaking out of comfort
for a journey of discovery
the cracking of the eggshell
the slow withdrawal
of the veil of slumber
outstretched arms will welcome
the emergence
come alive
my eyes are yours now

Lord:

no bequest requested.
no grant, no teach,
no need or greed asked
just a hey listen up,
if your attention is elsewhere

this is an
all-on-my-own
prayer that
my eyes only utter,
my tongue,
self-silenced,
can only watch
and must approve

in fact,
this is more
of a post
than a prayer,
updating you
on the state
of what we Earth temporaries
call the heart, mind, soul
and even our,
your-designed
crafted carrier,
my body

Mine enemies call me
cursed, embittered,
they are right - but fools,
they are
so much more than wrong,
for in this they err grievous,
for they cannot see their own
bile provisioning their end

ask for no interference
from the sidelines
neither from the
sapphire mother sky
that raised me up gloriously
this morning

nor the emerald earth
that this day
both gives and gets
common bounty
gives me sustenance,
as much spiritual
as grained cereal delights

lest you think this
just one more
me-centric rants,
let us recall this prayer,
is his very own,
prayer of gratitude

woman's head
rests on my chest,
her blonde highlights,
highlight our bed
and our
life

take and tuck her tresses
from eyes and forehead,
gentle them into place,
behind her ear,
and my hand journeys on
to the skin,
flesh of her backbone,
where my fingers
spread wide,
five messengers unique,
advising all of the 120 provinces of her
heart, mind, soul and body,
she is my beloved,
and I pray,
I am hers

learning still to
live with my means,
such as they are,
sometime mean,
sometimes extraordinaire

even this skill,
to express

is a gratitude
that though
comes and goes
like summer breezes
that as now we pray,
cools my AM coffee
while studying the
patterned mystery
of the bay's
Ave Maria waves
from that
dock-by-his-name

where my heart, mind, soul
drink wet inspiration
from the still-oak-tree'd-strong-surfaced waters,
the blue glue of
our common delighted,
uncommon existence

this skill,
at this moment mine,
to share and
not to keep,
for have I not,
been blessed,
by comrades-in-arms
that kneel beside me,
asking, imploring
to be stronger yet,
for their sakes,
for them!
I pray for
best they-can-muster
sustenance of peace
of heart, mind, soul
and body

here now,
my shills,
my failing skills
cannot help express
in new ways,
a gratitude
that has a shapeless shape,
no measurement app enabled
for their comfort,
our comfort,
best grasped as
an unbounded divinity,
how so I wish I could pray for them better

focus this prayer
on the good ones,
who so greatly honor us
with a greater-than-a-creator,
gift glorious of
friendship

this walnut crack'd shell,
this container ship of
heart, mind, soul,
here there,
a few leaks sprung,
no nicotine patches
to cover

this dented car,
this dented body,
new dent every day
from only-you-know-where
still gets me there,

but
other than taking care better,
it plods along and houses
the rearrangement of this prayer's words,
and that is what is called
plenty good enough,
self-sufficient

prayers that are too long
go to the back of line,
so here we be,
but here we do not wait!

for prayers of gratitude
are instantaneous fulfilled,
and thus granted even before
they are completed

You paint black
the surrounding
making people fall in love
as you confidently smile.
And it's hard
to forgive you and forget
the way my name
escaped from your lips.
Moving on
it's far from easy
cause in this world full of words
i wasn't even a full stop
while you still are my favourite book.

as the man slowly took the roll from his lips, letting the smoke drift into the lights. still his breath produced puffs as it touched the night air. he watched the cold mix with the warmth of the smoke, dissipating and dancing itn the sharp, chilling wind. to the stars his eyes did carry to the yellow sky above, the hot stump between his fingers began to burn now on his skin. 'til he smelt the putrid smell coming from his numbed hand below. and with that smell and the city lights and the smoke that rose above he realized something he never before had from the loud streets and yelling cabs. that the world wasn't all that beautiful, he thought with tearful eyes, the pretty was wearing off, and the sky above that he used to love was absent of all stars

free
-r--n
--e*d
---end
exempt shadows then you