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divine creator, I thirst after you
because I have known the dryness of
trying to fill my thirst with worldly clamors

my thirsty soul cannot be filled with liquid spirits,
but by the life flowing and giving Spirit

help me lord to see clearly
and to love you more deeply,
so my love of you is not only in thought or
empty words.

help me to be honest and see that my
love is lacking when I hate even one
of your many children,
including myself

may your outpouring love
begin in me, so I may
share your life giving water
with those still
thirst
for
*you
My heart was filled with desire to open my heart a little more, and then this prayer/poem took form.
The roses died

Oh my roses
All torn and dried out
Oh my roses died today
The garden looks so gloomy
Dried leaves on the ground
Colorless flowers thrown apart
Oh my garden of roses
a Killing field
a mourning place

The plants bowing and mourning
The smell of death
is everywhere...

All of a sudden
heavy rain falls from the sky
Clears aways the evidences
of terror...
Like nothing has ever happened

in my garden of roses
It wasn't a suicide
I plotted the death
A brilliant plan
I denied their rights to live

The rain washed away
all the debris...
The truth is forever hidden

Tomorrow...
I have a new plant
A new garden to be praised
and soon they will  forget  the roses...
My condolence to all family members and relatives and friends of passengers of flight MH 370 and MH 17 ... Good night Malaysia.
What can I do to make you see
what the world can truly be
and the endless possibilities
that are out there for you, and me.

What can I do to make you smile
for you to sit back and stay awhile,
to get you out of your comfort zone,
to show you that you're not alone.

What can I do to make you laugh
about something other than your crumbling path,
why can't I help you open your eyes
to look ever so slightly on the brighter side.

Just get up.
Get up, and feel the thrill of being alive,
I want you to be your best and thrive.

Just wake up.
Wake up, from this hazy nightmare,
wade through the depths of your own despair.

If you ever get there,
come and find me.
I'll be waiting beneath the old willow tree.

It's the one filled with memories
of what is and what used to be.
Under the constellations of wonder and awe,
by the sea of emotions, ever jagged and raw.

Its roots are etched into my bone and skin,
for it's part of who I am and what lies within.
I want you to meet me there,
in the lands that lie beyond your despair.

I'll be waiting, ever fading
for you to see what I can't bear to know
that it's up to you, there's nothing I can do.
Time will pass, what will it have to show?
 Aug 2014 Deshunte' B
r
blendered
 Aug 2014 Deshunte' B
r
words in a blender
too slushy
pain behind the eyes
frozen thoughts
lime green
exorcised projectiles
turning heads
with demon smiles
and whispered snarls
in a dead language.

r ~ 8/1/14
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