Her tune craves for him to sing
with her
not at her.

When he holds her in his hands
she comes alive. His love is
made known in the motions he makes.

Actions speak louder than words.
How beautiful it was that strumming
came easier than speaking.

She wants to be learned but not many
people have time for her complex
tendencies.

And she wants to be heard but
they have all forgotten how to
listen with their eyes.

I reached out and touched
her vibrations as he played.
I cried because I understand.

Be kind to all kinds
Because you will find
By being kind to all kinds
Makes you the best kind of
One of a kind.

I wish to understand these fragments of myself as beautiful.

This patch of back hair could be a
silky kitty on a window sill.

This doughy belly might as well be a
delicious pizza in the making

These hairy legs seem like
open fields of hay to roam freely.

Culture says, "You're ugly but if you do this ..... you will be desired."
The rebellious say, "You're beautiful in every single way."
But I say, "Everyone is beautiful and ugly in their own."
what's ugly is our inability to see each intricate part of
ourselves
each other
as a miracle.

One day tears will hit my cheeks - raging hail and empty streets.
One day joy will kiss my lips - soft balloon and vacation trips.
One day sickness will swell my throat - fevered flesh and ***** coats.
One day health will sing my song - common loon and acquitted wrongs.  
One day weakness will force me down - rusty bridge and broken crowns.
One day strength will lift my arms - solid rock and dairy farms.
One day fear will eat my heart - barking dog and missing parts
One day faith will keep my beat - mustard seed and new feats.
One day pain will fill my core  - blazing fire and open sores.
One day love will lead my legs - kind words and scrambled eggs.
One day hate will my itch my knees - long distance and sneaky fees.
One day peace will tickle my toes - green grass and escaping prose.

Do plants have souls
whom feel and know?

Is not their appetite for existence
evident in the ways they grow?

Do they dream with warm
remembrance in this slushy snow?

Or have I let my metaphors become
some form of reality show?

I am living in the valley of putrid decay.
Hope is black ashes in a smoldering sky.
The world? Acid rain, takes the best,
leaves the pain. I am withered in darkness,
when pervading light shows up to stimulate
the auxins in my soul. I stretch for Christ
and, I come alive with a life that’s not mine!
When He illuminates love, so divine, by sacrifice!
My pride, lust, anger covered in fluorescent colors!
This mess becomes defined as righteousness!
Re-bloomed from the inside, growing out!
The radiance of Calvary has elevated life in me!

Frisky, little, swimmer
danceful wiggle dips

Yellowy, orange, shimmer
puckering fishy lips

Thoughtful, quiet, feller
never any yips  

Lonely, curious, critter  
Got any life tips?