the sound of his incantations
hung like a fertile cloud in the air
till it became locked in an embrace
with the holy smell of incense bare
and all the while he droned on steadily
like a distant engine upon an incline
the birds of the night spun around him
crazy like a moth willing death to come
the hot wax stuck like glue on his fingernails
as the passion heated up and blew a blast
in the direction of mirthless unseen onlookers
witnesses to a macabre rite in the dead of night
the time for forging ties that bind was well nigh
for what better instrument to weld togetherness
than a grim kind of secrecy in the  dead wilderness

You look in my eyes and my breath quickly catches,
You hold my hand and my heart starts to pound,
You kiss my lips and I fall into a trance,
You smile at me and I can't help but smile back.

My heart is full of scars and scratches,
but you love me all year-round.
I want you to take my hand to dance,
to look in your eyes and let the world go black.

Our heats are puzzle pieces that latch,
your's over mine making me feel safe and sound.
You light my world and tell me "There's a chance",
and that, into the dark you never want me to go back.

Though my heart may be full of patches,
our hearts will always be bound.
Hopefully, as time flies our love will enhance,
and remember only You thought they were places to put love,
                                         and not just cracks.

I can't get no air.
Not enough.
My chest hurts.
Panic.
What's happening?

Slowly calming down again.
Oxygen.
Being able to move.
Finally.
That was strange.

In pain again.
The feeling of not getting enough air.
It happens a lot.
Random moments of pain.
And breathing diffeculties.

It is just stress.
I tell myself.
This makes me feel sick.
Most likely it is just stress.
Thank you stress for everything.

Though our struggles we overcome.
We trust and with a Leap of Faith.
We soar to higher heights we free.
We hang on with no regrets to God.
For we are only flying because of him.
For his Spirit is our co-pilot and helper.
For in him, we need to fear nothing here.
For he has already seen our every victory.
But actually , they are all his victories through us.

Clover honey sunshine o'er Sassafras rivers
Proud Martins sing for notoriety , full bloom-
white sugar , shivers in the afternoon pasture
Our last Raven of the hard day season
Roaster , stained glass color kinda holidays -
liquid Kildare clover valleys , euphoric July nightshades

I am not too proud to admit that I am really broken.
I am not too proud to admit that I have a lot of baggage.
I am not too proud to admit that I have been rejected.
I am not too proud to admit that I need a Savior to save me.
I am not too proud because I seen the evil that hurts others.
Because of my trust issues that I have now, sometimes...
The fear within me causes me to push other people away.
So yes , I am not afraid to admit the brokenness within me.
I am not too proud or afraid to admit that I am damage goods.
But because of this I am grateful because I do see that I need a Savior.
That Savior is my Lord and Savior Jesus the Christ my God.

Each poet/ writer has a story to tell through their poetry.
Sometimes we may change our attitude through experience.
I am open to change and repent when Christ shows me.
For sometimes what we think or perceive is not the truth.
But we hear things and do things because of misperception.
So when we realize the truth we need to lay it at the cross.
We need to repent and allow God to speak to us on things.
Because he always see things and, he never get them wrong.
So only he can reveal things and we do things out of love.
Not condemn them but to see maybe it was just a suggestion.

looking back through time shaved eyes
I am blessed by these corridors of memory
otherwise hollow
should you not be present
epic torture of a miniscule life
only room for so many kings
return to me on the power of thought
fleeting though it was
it was
I lose myself in the open valley
and rolling hills
on this daybreak drive
and I am there
with you in those precious days
when our love burned
through the boundaries
of time

Good morning Mister Fireplug , hope you slept well ..
My loyal silver sentry , I pray we never seek your help !

Beauty,
Hastily grasp it and it flies,
Force it and it dies,
Wait, work and it grows,
Patience, lovely knows,
That lovely life is best,
And beauty a curious thing,
That flits on feather wings,
Or drums dark and sweet in the hearts of men,
Not satisfying on our tongue,
But a harbinger of what must come.