I came into being as my soul fell down from heaven. I looked forward to seeing you but now that will not be. I was waiting in the womb the day that you decided that you could not have me. Though it broke your heart, you did it anyway. You felt that you would be better off because that's what you heard other people say. So they took you in a room and you lay there quietly you could not hear the Silent Scream as they slowly cut me away. You could not hear my heart stop beating or hear my spirit pray. Now you are free of me, it was simply a few Cuts and a snip. Then they took me out and it was like I never lived. You left without thinking and they gave you something to **** the pain. A good strong drink and a couple pills and the memory of me went away. You should not worry though because what you did was not my end. My soul is with Jesus now, and one day I will see you again. When you come to heaven I've just got one thing to ask you see? I just want to know, why you aborted me?

Knead out the crust and fill up the pan. Prepare the fruit with just a hint of brown sugar. Mold the filling into the crust. Cover it with a topper and adding a little more sugar is a must. Working with a fruit that often taste like sour grapes, requires patients and skill to get the flavor just right. Not too **** and not too sweet, somewhere in the middle is where the flavor should meet. If all has been done with expert care, the smell will bring family and friends running from everywhere. Take delight in a difficult fall dish, made with love and care. Persimmon pie can be wonderful, just try a piece and see.

Kids in the kitchen, flour in my hair. Biscuits browning in the oven, and laughter everywhere. Cookie doe on the baking sheet being pressed into weird shapes only a kid can imagine. What looks like great confusion, is the closest thing to paradise this side of Heaven. When the mash potatoes are plated and the biscuits are golden brown. The table is quickly set and the family settles down. With folded hands we say grace and the eating begins. We quietly say please and thank you as the food is passed around. The clanking of forks and spoons is the only real sound. When all the plates are cleaned, the cookies are passed around and everyone gets a good laugh at the funny shapes that we have cooked. Then the table is cleared and it is time for sleep. Dinner has become a form of therapy to keep my sanity in a world gone utterly mad.

The room is getting smaller, I swear it is. I try to fit through the door, but I just can't squeeze through. Everything is shrinking or I'm getting bigger. I can't really decide which it is. I just know that everything is an inch closer than it was a few moments ago. I am fighting to keep hold on my sanity, but the walls are closing in on me.

I am the monster you created! I am the life that you hated! I am what you would like to destroy, now I am here to distress and annoy you! I am the ***** secret you wanted to bury. I am the thing that children find scary! I am the burden you have to carry. So why don't you admit that I am real and we can get on with learning how to deal with our co-existence as I torment your mind. I am your monster, I am your Frankenstein!

The world is made out of different colors of people. All of us are born equal. We are born naked, hungry and cold. Beyond that we must struggle for what we get. Some likeneed not try as hard as others, yet life is still a struggle. If we were to stand side by side and look at each other, we would see only superficial differences. In truth, the color of humanity crosses borders and ideological lines. We must embrace the rainbow of different people in order to live  as the human race in peace and prosperity for all.

Oh I wish I could be a sparrow then I could fly fast and free. I would be able to sit on high wires and look at the world below. I would not need much just a few seed to eat. I could sit perched in a high tree top and spread my wings to the sun. I could dip in a bird bath or a puddle to be clean . I would sing happily to proclaim my freedom from all of the human problems that used to plague me.

I want to live my life like the devil may care! I want to wear my clothes in a way that makes people stop and state. I want to get you excited just by casting an evil grin! Oh how I would love to be Harley Quinn!

Every so often we must cut back things that have grown too out of control. As a rose bush must be pruned or a grape vine must be trimmed, so must the problems of life be cut back in order for us to have room to grow.

Standing in the starlight looking into your eyes as they reflect the moon. Watching the horizon as the night fades. Dancing barefoot on the cool earth with you in my arms, I do not want the night to end. As the sun begins to break the veil of night, Shadows begin to fade into morning and your silhouette becomes mysterious and beautiful. I pull you close and look at your face as light and dark cast shades over you. The sun and the moon are in equilibrium and you and I are balanced and in love. I savor the moment as the shades of night fade and the mornings new light separates shadows from day.

Geese take flight at dawns first light. Falcons soar into the sun. The noble eagle ascends on the air currents that take the bird to the highest mountain peaks. A Red Tailed Hawk swoops down from a tree into a valley then back up again with it's prey. Magnificent creatures who master the wind and take flight at will. To stop and watch their beauty is to be lost and humbled. What wonder it is to see birds on the wind.

Till the soil and pull out the weeds. Sew the seeds and water them with care. Watch dutifully and see the sprouts begin to grow. Feed the young chutes with love and prune back the leaves. Let each one rise to the sun and form a blossom. Watch as the flower comes into full bloom in many colors of all hues and types. This is how to plant a garden of humanity where all flowers are welcome and grow in harmony with one another.

Honor before all else, duty and obedience without question. Never strike in anger, always be dutiful to your master. Protect the weak and defenseless, in all things live as you believe. Your sword is part of you, an extension of yourself. Focus and harmony must be your creed. Nothing must distract you from the task set before you. Until your end, how ever it may come, you must live the code you have chosen to adapt as your way of life.

Hair as dark as newly turned earth and the sass of an alligator. Barefoot she stands stirring a *** of Craw dad bisque. Working up a sweat making a meal for her man, she could charms the hiss out of a snake. Creole in her nature, with a touch of hot peppers, she has a flare for making a bow fiddle sing. She loves to dance from sunset to nearly dawn, give her a little moonshine and watch her spread her wings. All southern woman, a true swamp land child. A flame of Cajun fire that can only be loved but never tamed.

Oh soulless moon how cruel is your light, casting shadows in the night. In the cruelest twist of fate I must stand under your watchful gaze, as I am haunted by my loves forgotten shade. It would be better that there were no lesser light, so cold and unforgiving are you. The utter darkness would be better, then I would be wrapped in forgetfulness. How cruel fate is, she wreaks vengeance upon me. The sun burns me and you oh lesser orb taunt me. In the sun at least I can see clearly, but in your white light, shadows chase me, each one a demon lurking for my soul. Oh how I would that death had taken me instead, it would be better for me to have died of grief than my beloved. Now she is at peace and I must live each night mocked by you oh silver watcher, reminding of my lost love.

What is love and who defines it. Is love an abstract thing or is it tangible? Is love an act of sacrifice or is it being understanding to another? Is love the act of sharing, or is it being graceful towards another? Is love between two people or can love be between a person and a thing? Who is to say what defines love? When two hearts embrace as poets might illustrate, is this the bonding of love, Does love defy the conventional concepts of limited time? Can it be eternal and transcendent? In truth no one person can say what love truly is, because it comes in so many manifestations. All that can be said for sure is that love can be recognized when one person sees it, because it elicits feelings and deep emotions that are of a positive nature which is the inverse of all things negative. So truly what is love>

Pink elephants and unicorns, fluffy white clouds and bunny rabbits. Leprechauns, and goblins, talking owls and purple kangaroos. Oh what things you can imagine when you really want to. To stop a moment and see such things without taking a drink, is to remember childhood wonder. In an adult world where our focus is only on what is in front of us, taking a moment to see an old imaginary friend could be quiet a wonderful thing.

They say it doesn't hurt. They say it is over quickly. What if they are wrong. There are so many ways to do it, but what if I change my mind. I just want the pain to stop, I am dying inside. I have thought about it a lot but I am afraid. How will my family feel. What happens next, I am not really sure, then who is. If I go one more day will it get better. I don't know, I only know I want the pain to end. Will someone tell me does it really work, is it worth it. I am dying inside. Please I want to end it, but I am not sure. How do I do it, will I succeed or will I be left worse off than I am now. I am not sure, perhaps one more day and then I will try. I just want the pain to stop, I just want to sleep. I want to stop dying inside.

we consider it a mystery why we repeat our history, we wonder why we often blunder and fail. The truth lies in our past, we fail to heed its warnings. We wake up only after disaster has struck us down. In the shambles of our tragedy, we bemoan and opine oh why weren't we warned. When the truth lays before us, it is our own arrogance that destroyed us, because we believed that we did not need to remember what history taught us.

I went to a grand Cathedral and heard eloquent words spoken. I walked down the street and saw a man with a bible preaching. I went to a homeless shelter and saw a man praying thankfully that he had soup to eat. I walked to the seashore and watched the sunset. I then sat upon a rock and thought about it a long time. I then decided where God is not. God is not in the building, or in the sermon that is preached. God is not in the homeless shelter or the food that we must eat. God is not in the sunset or in the warm ocean breeze. God lives most of all with in you and me.

Do not hide in the shadows, step into the light. Do not be ashamed of who you are. Be the person you want others to see. Show kindness and love even if you are hated. Stand with grace in the wake of persecution. Be faithful to your ideals, even if others don't like your point of view. Never compromise what you are, be true to yourself. Hold on to those who love you and strengthen those bonds. They will serve you well in the life you choose to live. Always be selfless when you have something to give. Show others what they are missing because the will not see the true you. Just remember to be who you are in what ever you choose to do.

The morning dew lays on the trees and ground in the cool air of a new day. My lungs are filled with the crisp cold as the sun begins to climb over the horizon. I listen to the world awake and begin to imagine the possibilities. What wonderful things can I bring to life today. Might I learn something new, could I make a new friend or make a difference in the life of another person. The possibilities that are before me are endless, but for a moment, I must simply stop and enjoy the purity of the unwritten pages of a new day.

As the sun rises and the world awakens, a host of new possibilities are realized. The night has passed and the weariness of yesterday has been shed. Tired eyes awaken to the sounds of life anew. The script has not been written as to what might occur. The day is a blank slate waiting for someone to set the scene. Embrace the morning and all of the promise that it brings.

It is repugnant, it is unconventional, it is unseemly, so say the critics and the self righteous. The action is unholy, it defies social norms, what ever it is at the time. Vulgarity, need not be contrived to be offensive, it only need go against the sensibilities of societies wishes. ******, to one is art to another it is *******, all in good conscience. One man wears a fine suit and another a **** cloth and sandals, who is to be called holy. In one time robes and skirts make a man, in another they are for those of less than manly stature. All things can be ******, it is simply what personal perspective is at the time.

Petty crimes have become felonies. Youth programs have been replaced with the jail house. God has been replaced with do what you feel. No one cares what happens to a generation lost. Drug addicts are warehoused in cell blocks, instead of being offered programs to get clean. Forgetting that some of our neighbors are human seems to be the grand scheme of things. There are those who will not change, but some can be saved. It is time to throw a lifeline to those who want out and time for us to stop throwing our children away. Return them to the knowledge of God and give them back some hope. Instead of jailing America, lets find a way to bring them home.

When in doubt pray. When you are unsure pray. When all things make no sense pray. When the mountain seems to high pray. In all things be prayerful. In all things be thankful. In all matters pray for guidance. When in doubt just pray. What can it hurt?

Just before sunrise beyond the sandy beaches of a never ending shore. I put out on a board and listen to the waves churn about me. I go out to the point where the horizon seems to join the sun. I turn my board towards the land and sit quietly and wait. Gulls fly overhead as I sit surrounded by others like myself, yet I am still alone. In one instance, the ocean begins to rise up. I paddle forward into the morning spray. The wave catches me and takes me forward. I am caught in the first curl of the day, as I try to become the master of myself while embracing the power of an ocean wave. I let it carry me and simply guide my board on the path it sets. Until the breaker subsides and I float into calmer waters. I settle into a lull and catch my breath, as I come off of an emotional high. Then I draw together my strength, and turn my board once more to the horizon, hoping to catch another wave before the day comes to an end.

From bruised knees to a broken heart I am covered in the scars that life has left upon me. Some are visible and some are not, but all show who I am. The scars show that I have been foolish and they show that I have courage. They show that I can love and know loss. The scars mark the healed wounds of a life's journey that I am still undertaking. Before the end comes I will face more difficulties and hardships, but with each new experience and each new scar, I grow as a person to become what I am destine to be. So when you see the scars upon my body, do not feel sad for me, for it is my scars that define me.

In my life your love is a comfort to me. Your gentle kindness gives me hope when my soul is troubled. You shine with the morning sun and your smile warms the day and wakes up the flowers of the garden. I know that I am a rough beast with many a burden to bear, but I can always return to safe haven in your loving arms. Even when the night is it's darkest, you are my guiding light and will give me a safe path home.

Yesterday is a distant memory and today is still not determined. What lies over the horizon is unsure to the mortal mind, but I will not despair or fear. I already know what the future holds I know how it all will end. I know the final story, I know who has written it in. So I will step into the new day without any fear, for the one who knows all things is always very near.

Jonathan Campbell  1d
I was wondering if you would be interested in this project im starting up. I wanna post spoken word poetry audio on sound cloud and youube. non profit just for the artists

A poet of great passion, a savior who was passionate about his work. A song that lets it be, be still and know that he is God. A want for a revolution that is positively changing things, but no room for minds that hate, a new covenant to change the paradigm of salvation, and a savior who preaches peace and love. While each has a different take on life, amazing how much both seem to be in agreement.

A straw man hanging on a stick, blowing ragged in the wind. A straw hat and torn jeans with a shirt full of dried grass. A smile painted on your face with buttons for eyes, not much to look at it would seem. You sit idly and watch the corn grow, hopefully scaring away a few old crows. As much as many might scorn you, you are good at one thing. When I want to talk you always listen and never ever complain. So I think of you often as the winter comes and you hang around in the cold and the snow. When I feel really lonely and need someone to listen, I know just where to go.

Being able to bend iron is impressive, but it is not my greatest strength. The ability to be humble is what really strengthens me. To be a servant to those who are in need. To wash the feet of a beggar that is strength indeed. So when someone say I can lift half a ton, would they stand firm in the face of poverty and want, or would they turn and run?

I sit in the corner of my bed room, my stomach aches because I haven't eaten. I want to go out and play, but mommy says it is not safe. I see the light coming through my window and listen to the cars passing by. I hear my mommie crying in her room and I do not know why. My clothes are laid out for school tomorrow they are a bit torn and wrinkled. The other kids make fun of me, but I do not know what to say to them. I want to go to school so bad, it is where I get to eat. I lay down on the cold floor in the corner and try to quietly cry myself to sleep. Every day I pass tall shining buildings and I dream that someday I can visit one of them and see what it is like to live inside, but for now I know only hunger and the sound of my mommies tears. I wonder if anyone out there can hear her cry or if anyone even really cares.

On the porch of a weather worn house, sits a creak old rocking chair. It moves slightly when a good breeze blows and you can hear it speaking ever so slowly. It tells a tell of aged grand parents rocking a new born babe. It tells of many a night spent staring at the stars, while holding someone you love close. The chair is a silent witness to many a times that have gone by. For the good or the bad, it is a place still that brings me home and reminds me of what home is to me.

Crackle, crack, snap goes the sound of the paint as it flakes. Seams open little by little as the wall begin to break. I look at the stucco and I swear it is splitting into. Each line that appears separates into a dark fisher. I peer into the crack to see if I can find the bottom of the darkness. All that I find is that I get lost and drift a bit more out of sanity. If I stare long enough, the cracks become rifts in reality, cracks; cracks in the walls, why are they taunting me?

Working in a field collecting bails of dried grass. Toiling for my daily bread. I watched as others lay around in the shade, onward I walked eating dust and dried grass. Under the July sun, I burned and wanted for more. I longed to be free from my labors and to be at ease as others were, but my task master would not relent upon me. Trying to teach me a lesson, that it took many years to learn, I now see the truth in hard work that was my fate. While others were not expected to labor, my father demanded accountability. Under the July sun, I was tempered by a fire, that made me able to enjoy the fruits of hard work in latter years.

A marionette had its strings cut. The puppet master could not use it anymore. It lay crumpled in a pile on a dusty and dark floor. How it longed to be upright again. It missed hearing the children laugh. It wanted to cry but no tears could come from dried wood. Time passed without measure and the Marionette lay forgotten, until one day by chance children came in to play. A young girl saw the dusty figure lying on the floor and picked it up, broken strings and all. She brought it out into the light, and saw its clothes were tattered and color was faded. She ask if she could play with it and the old master said she could take it away. With loving care and imagination, she tore the Marionette down to it's wood. She played with it as it was and not as it had been. While the once proud puppet no longer possessed its former self, it found more joy in its new form giving a child's imagination a place to exist and listening to the music of youthful laughter once again.

When you see me do good, do not praise me. When you see me reach out to a friend in need, do not reward me. When you watch my life and see the things I do, do not honor me. Consider me not but to God give the glory, for what am I without him.

I am a plant that has many branches. I stretch out in life to touch others like a running vine . If I bare good fruit, then many can benefit from my efforts. If I bare bad fruit, then no one can partake of my success. So it is better to bring forth good things that others may prosper and plant seeds of success themselves, thus becoming a vine of humanity stretching out and covering the earth with kindness and mercy.

Standing in towers of glass and steel people survey the land beneath them. Admiring what their wealth has bought them, the see a serene picture from above the clouds. While in streets below and across rivers and oceans, armies wage war. Some wars are fought with guns, others are fought with books and still others are fought with vaccines. While a select few rise to prominence and power, most struggle to have their daily bread. Some obtain wealth beyond measure surrounded by rivers of jewels and gold. While others languish and starve. For those who amass the resources life is comfort and ease, for others it is a struggle to live. How much is enough for one person before they are willing to give back and help another?

Life is a fine thread that we pull taught then loosen. It strains and releases given to our circumstance. If we pull too tight, it will snap, if we let it go too loose, then it will tangle and we will get caught in one place. The twine must spin and flow not going to much to one way or the other. A balance must be maintained, for we are never sure of our own mortality or when it might come to an end.

You are better than them, they should give you their stuff. They talk in a funny, I am prettier than you . You are fat and I am skinny. I don't like your clothes. The examples we set show our children things they should not see. Thus the education of ignorance is fomented.

Stop suddenly and close your eyes. Hear the wind blowing and the birds singing. Let sound fill you and give yourself to the emotions that are carried in each sound. Stop in to see an old friend and say not a word. Simply sit quietly and hear what they have to say. Release the bonds of this world and listen to children at play. Just stop for a few quiet moments of reflection each and every day. Just listen.

If I give you my soul will it make you love me. If I shower you with gifts can I have your heart. What price can I pay to gain your affections. If I pledge my life to serve you will you adore me. If I make you laugh everyday, will that keep your attention. Please tell me if there is anyway that I can buy your love?

Hear the wind of my discontent howl! Feel the rumble of my shaking determination! See the lightning of my enthusiastic fervor! I am one among many, but I am empowered! I believe in my principals, for they are at the core of my being! I am a movement like unto a tidal wave! I will wash over my opposition and prove that I am right! I will change minds like nature changes the seasons! I am a force to be reckoned with and I will no longer be ignored!

When all things are realized and there is no more to say. When the pain of mortality becomes to real to bear. I open my arms to embrace the here after and what ever it may bring. I look to the peaceful coming of the end. All things being equal, I go to my final fate. I close my eyes and welcome death and my journey through eternities gate.

Torn pieces of cloth, old forgotten clothes and discarded linens. Things nobody seems to need or care for. This is how we treat our old, our poor and our fatherless. An image that is not pretty, but accurate to describe the way of the world. If someone would take the pieces and patch them together, a beautiful quilt or tapestry could emerge. So let us take the ragged broken lives of those we consider lost and patch them back together. In hopes of a beautiful creation being born from the ripped and shredded pieces of tattered lives.

Let me wipe away your tears and give you my smile. I will take away your pain, if only for a while. Let me bear you on my shoulders, let me carry your load. Give me your burdens as we walk along. I will share with you my hope, you can share with me your suffering. We can make a meal and talk about many different things. I will open to you my heart if you will give me a little trust. We can start a bond of friendship right here. Allow me to take your hand and help you through tomorrow. Please confide in me and give me your sorrow.