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 Aug 2017
Akira Chinen
I want to feel your
lips full of poetry
bleeding out a verse
of pleasure over
a rhyme of sin
with fairy tale eyes
whispering of secrets of lust
and promises for love
hold you until the end of time
and hang our story
from a branch
of the tree of stars
where beneath the roots
we will steal the crown
of butterfiles
and throne from
the queen of bees
and float down
the river of eternity
and dream of reading
each kiss we share
from your lips
full of poetry
 Aug 2017
Angharad
Stepping through into darkness
Street lights drowned out by solid silhouettes of trees
Distant stars brought closer
In awe of the dramatic beauty of the vast night sky
Feet still
Face upwards
Eyes drinking in the fullness of space
Blue light traces as shooting stars race
Vision made aware of bursts of incredible meteors
Moving through my universe
I would stay and drown for hours in the deep ocean of the stars
Glad to feel so small against something with no edge
Limitless mysterious infinity
The Perseids Meteor shower. Nature's theatre
Dissociation  
Depersonalisation
Derealisation
Detachment
Mental and Physical Paralization

This is the complete story
Of my life's disinclination

Severe Anxiety
Panic Disorder
Post Traumatic Stress Disorder
Obsessive Compulsive Disorder
Depression

My disorderly indispositions
Not being in any form of
Chronological succession

By Lady R.F. (C)2017
 Aug 2017
SøułSurvivør
"Though the mills
Of God grind slowly;
Yet they grind exceeding small;
Though with patience
He stands waiting,
With exactness grinds He all."

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

The Mill

The grueling weight
of happenstance,
A millstone for to grind,
It deflates the ego
And shows us
Where we're blind,
It renders flesh a ruin
Obliterates the mind,
We leave our idols desolate
Leave the ties that bind.

Under painful hardship
We release the very things
Which put us in the circumstance
And caused the suffering
We leave behind our craving
For wealth and diamond rings
Everything exalted
All exalted above God...

That means
EVERYTHING

Whatever you adore
On this temporal earth
Whatever gives you pleasure
In which you find worth

These very things will shackle you!
You'll find out they're not free.
They are just the Golden Calf
Of base idolatry.

But the millstone slowly purges
Turning hour by hour
Turning the wheat kernels
Into useful flour.

And so I am refined
As I surely must
Put to naught my flesh
Make powder all my lusts
For I am as ashes

for I am as dust.*


SS  (C) 8/23/2017
I have troubles right now. God is putting me through the mill. I'm now almost completely bedridden. My father is in great pain and suffering. My mom is extremely upset due to all this. The entire family is in turmoil. We are ALL affected.

I'm not saying my problems are any worse than yours. We each have a cross to bear. It's simply how we HANDLE IT that matters! Are we going to get bitter? Or BETTER?!!!

I've been feeling very sorry for myself. And, due to my reaction to the stress, I hurt a friend. I can't tell you how badly this shook me! I (self-righteously) thought I was far beyond this sort of behavior! But the pressure grinds & shows us our idols & faults. I've decided to let go of a LOT of besetting iniquity. And it's HARD.

I haven't been on site much. I just want to pray and read my Bible. Study. This will help me heal. Please forgive my absence. I appreciate your support and understanding. I include all of you in my prayers...


♡ Catherine
 Aug 2017
wordvango
dreamer the fiction seer of visions
the illusions of perceptions
the daze of humans
the false water shimmers
in the distance as
we the believers
transcend this temporary
existence
do we softly go
along the hot sand  burning
our souls
or can we make haste
imagining our
ultimate destinations?
Flowers
Are a reminder
That without a little rain
We wouldn't be able to bloom,

Without clouds
And a little bad weather
We wouldn't be able to smell
Their divine fragrant perfume.

Flowers
Are a reminder
That we need gloomy days
So we can highly value
The sun's radiant,
Life-powering, life-giving light,

Because without
Any form of darkness
We wouldn't appreciate
The glorious clear-blue skys
And the gift of precious daylight.

By Lady R.F. (C)2017
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