We walk not of this world way, but by Faith.
For each of us has been promise different things.
Yet we still walk by the same Faith as the other.
We each are on a different path with him as well.
Some Faith may stronger today, but not tomorrow.
For Faith is by hearing, then believing it is true.
We all have the very same objective here in life.
It is to finish this race=Journey that we are on.
Thus then being told by our Savior well done.

I miss mine homie,
Who in the world's name is homie? One mayeth ask.....
Well homie
Is mine old German Shepherd.....
Dad named him that
Funny yes I know.... Long story ....
And though I haveth many Angel's here on earth......
Homie,
Was mine true pet angel....

He always watched out for me when I was around nine years old.
And when one day,
At mine birthday party...
Mine friends tried to be OK with homie,
As me and homie were soulmates friend and being wise...
So mine friend's tried to feed homie through his fence hotdogs,
Like I did with no problem...

And mine old buddy Danny found out.
Homie didn't eat hot dog's
Unless I Gaveth them to him ....
Me, his best friend and soulmate!
Fed them to him....
As I saw homie ready to rip Danny's hand off...
I just chuckled and told homie...
Down boy down...

Homie always listened...
He was mine soulmate....
My do I miss mine homie...

As I remembered one day coming home from school...
Mum picking me up from that young learning center,
She said son I got something to tell thee,
On the way home...


(Yes mum)
I said...

Well,
Homie died
I found him whilst thou was at school son...
( said mum)

I couldn't say nothing
I think I just said really?

As mum told me
He was found in his doghouse
Curled up
Dead.....

I questioned her?
Where is he mother?
Wherein did thou layeth his body mum?
I asked....

She told me she had taken him to some place about fifteen minutes away,
And buried him in some wood's....

I wasn't angry with her.
Nor even father,
I was hurt because I didint get to see his body...
I was hurt because I told mother and father all the time...
Bring him INSIDE!!!!!!
When it got cold...
As I remember it was cold
And snowing when he died........

Yes I understood homie was a big dog
And couldst be a little wild at times....
Though we had a basement
With rooms in that basement
And couldst haveth put a cage down there....

So I felt horrible I didint just bring him in
Even though they thought it was fine to stay outside
During winter......

Mum thought he was poisoned
By someone putting something in his food....
My opinion is he died alone,
When I was gone,
And froze to death....
Don't like thinking of it...
I just miss him to mine soul!!!!!!!!!
I forgive mum and dad not angry,
Just canst waiteth to see mine angel again...

R.I.P homie baby boy...
See you in heaven (:

Maybe I've lost myself
I'm still stuck in your brain
Since the last time you saw me
I need you to give me back

Maybe you've lost yourself
You're still stuck in my brain
Since the last time I saw you
I don't want to give you back

Maybe we've lost each other forever
Left with only a piece of you
And a piece of me
Lost in the darkness of each others hearts
We had tried to enlighten.
The last time we saw each other
Only a glance,
Only a whisper.
*Goodbye

Even now, through all of the pain.
Even now ,with all that I have felt.
Knowing that you always deliver me.
Even now knowing nothing can stop you.
For all that I been through here Lord.
I know that I should be dead now.
But you are always in charge of every thing.
Even now, I am always safe with you God.
For no matter what you are God.

he sits all alone
in a smoky dusty bar
in a twilight zone of his own
he counts the neon stars

he isn't anywhere
and he isn't going anywhere

he sits by himself
as another day passes
like the bottles on the shelf
and the empty glasses

the magnolia was a bit of a *******
(as far as trees can be *******)
and like very many other things—
like japanese candy from the Fugi Mart in Greenwich
                                      (across from the McDonald’s and next to
                                             the music shop where I got my viola)
and like pokemon cards and nintendo gaming systems
and like Avril Lavigne’s “Sk8er Boi” on a pink CD in a Hello Kitty radio
—that ******* of a magnolia was a distinctive taste
of the years I spent growing up in my house at the end of Wyndover Lane.

the ******* thing was almost perpetually in bloom.

it barged into both spring and autumn
(it didn’t give a **** about timing)
those pink and white spongy petals padding the ground
and at first you think it’s ******* beautiful
sitting in the crook of the trunk where it split into
                                                                two large
                                                       separate branches
tilting your chin back to catch a glimpse of blue between fat blossoms

then the petals start rotting
water-retentive little *******
and you can’t sweep ‘em away because they stick to the patio
brown clumps slipping under rubber soles
my dad lets loose a string of curses
and the magnolia shakes with laughter

I tried pressing the petals in a notebook once
while I was in that naturalist phase it seems all little girls go through
when you make fairy houses out of bark in the backyard
and put flowers between the pages of books because it feels
oh-so-much-more significant
than picking a pretty thing and showing it to mom

but the magnolia seeped through my spiral ring
and when I opened it up a month later they were dry tan papery things
not at all velveteen and rosy
and there were garish pink bloodstains all through the ten pages
on either side
magnolias don’t preserve well
except, honestly they do don’t they

then of course there’s that childhood tragedy that everyone has
when your dog got hit by some soccer mom’s suburban
or your teddy bear was lost in an airport
or maybe you just liked to cry because some things
were just really worth the tears at the time

but when I came home and found out they cut down my ******* ******* of a magnolia

I bawled

there wasn’t
even
a
stump.

He is a delicateness
a tender beautiful mess
He is the softness of
the papers of an old book
He is that forgotten wetness
of shy kissed lips
He is that sudden leap in her heart
when she smells rain
He is all those tiny things
unseen and untouched
Believe me he is
all that I have touched and cherished.

He is the emptiness
of a broken summer's moon.
Believe me he is.

Longing to be free , open the door so that Christ can free you.
Of physical things that tied you down on this here planet Earth.
Just as sins, additions, feelings, among other things as well here.
Once Christ starts to Free you of these earthy things here on earth.
Then with the aid of his Holy Spirit you shall see many miracles.
Ones while he processing you out of things that hold you down.
Thus showing the world that he is your God, Lord, and Savior.
For our Walk and Salvation , he is working them out in us.
For our Salvation is not a quick fix, but a working process in us.
A process once startled, he shall not let us down but finish it.

The girl you see on the train
With a piercing to commemorate each heartbreak
Has a few in places you can't see
— Because you can't know her relationships;
You don't know her heartbreak, or pain.
Instead, you count the suitcases and handbags she is lugging.

The girl who got a new piercing each time her heart broke
Has more smile lines on her face than studs,
So you can see she has had a fair measure
Of good moments:
She is not all rough edges and elbows.

But what you don't know,
And can't tell
From looking at her alone,
Is that she got a tattoo
Each time that she moved on.

The girl with as many piercings as heartbreaks
-And as many tattoos as movings on-
Has eight pieces of jewellery
Strung through her skin,
But only seven markings
Inked into it,
Because she knows she'll never quite get over
The one she can't quite forget.

You'll have to speak to her to know her—
A stranger on the train—
And let her tell you about her life;
And one day you'll hold her hand
As she gets her eighth tattoo done.
Break out of your bubble, if only because
One day, eight heartbreaks in, you'll help her break even.