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Jamie King Sep 2016
Is it the complete pieces of a broken heart or the broken pieces of a complete heart that shapes  life?

Vociferous wails,
do you see it?
Pathos in pearls.
the sea seems to stream from them.
Mingling with muzzling rays reposed in the rain.

She'll shed one in joy
as old friends tear tears.
Used to sleep in graves now she leaves lilies and rails.

She stands above storms but is below the clouds, her friends still question how?
As she nurtures the ground.
in the mist of raging storms and dancing rainbows you'll find life
  Sep 2016 Jamie King
SøułSurvivør
God.
Creator of all things.
So Glorious and Beautiful that
not even the angels can look at Him.
The seraphim fly around His throne,
two of their six wings covering their faces.
They stir the Holy Waters into swirls and eddys of translucent rainbows. Then they sing and sing and sing of his Glory and Majesty. I believe not only because they were made to do so... but also because they glimpse His Shekinah Glory between their feathers!

Accolades to the Most High.
The river of life, The Fountain of truth,
where wisdom dwells and love is alive.
The true physician, salvifically laboring
to heal warped characters of
despondent creatures.
Will you drink from the eternal spring
and be revived?


There are many springs,
there are many wells,
from which to draw.
But they are empty holes
which cannot fill.
Broken cisterns...
which cannot hold water.
Will you come to Him?
To the True Well of all wells?
To the Fountain of Living Waters,
Who alone can quench your
soul's thirst?
All praise and glory be
to the One who alone is
The Water of Life.
All praise and glory and honour
to the One whose voice is like
the sound of many waters.
Will you come to Him?
That you might never thirst.
Again.



SoulSurvivor.
Jamie King.
The Faithful Dreamer*.
What an honor it is to work with these two talented poets! Thank you so much, Jamie and TFD, for wonderful writing! You're awesome!

The God we serve is so awesome, also!
Worthy of Praise, Honor and Glory forever! Thank you for all you do, Jesus!

Thank you for reading us... We appreciate you! God bless!

<{{{><
Jamie King Aug 2016
Why do say love is blind or is for fools?
You drown your blankets with seas from your eyes. Convincing yourself your chest is not one full of treasure, but needles at war with your heart.

Is this what you call love?
This is infatuation, it's lust, it's desire to benefit yourself with no regards for the one you burn towards.

Will you not learn from nature?
trees revive you with oxygen as you breathe. the rivers feed the clouds and the clouds rain and feed the rivers.

Where is sorrow there?
Where are the needles you curse?

Leave your sorrows, they are not worthy of You. Realise that Love is a circle of beneficence, sacrificing itself for the welfare of others.
Wipe your tears and seek for wisdom for where there is wisdom you'll find truth and love
Jamie King Mar 2016
I wonder if angels cry.
When the scent of fornication smothers the air
And guilt consumes the careless hands immersed in the jar of sordid men. When children kiss blades, painted in their brother's blood. Drinking their mothers tears as though a precious tea.

I wonder if they use handkerchiefs or let rivers rise, feeding from their eyes.
Dancing in birth of the innocent youth, glimmering with hope and prosperity.

I wonder, I wonder.
sympathy and tranquillity form my perspective with each drop of ink, being careful not to spill
Jamie King Feb 2016
We used to paint oceans of sorio lillies, across the sky pouring tears of life.
Merging memories of sore pasts and saw paths that revamped lost plants.
Without a seed, groomed roses and blossomed fields of dying daisies daily decaying dim.

Her kiss embellished wrathful storms,with red feathers of white birds drifting to the shore, of fine sand born from light zones in dark ends.

Now she's a ghost, a spirit of a wild mild mind in an abyss of enraged beasts. She's alive and breaths still,but her breath passes by the trees as though another leaf carried by the wind.
Is she in a coffin inside a casket buried beneath the garden of joy but only ripping despair, gloriously singing by herself?
I miss an old friend.
Jamie King Feb 2016
They climb dreaded shoulders of weary mountains,
with shredded beds and old blades.
Gently greeting the grass, shielding thorns born to burden feet.
  Pain is a meal for each day,
in blind winters blazing in cold flames, fading bold rays.
Beaming beyond reaches of feather fields,
Further Filled with golden rage
Jamie King Jan 2016
Piercing shreds of brown rags, ravaged by hounds with breath fouler than reeking sores.
Dripping a stream of pus bred in rage, roaring is dread where days have no end.

Dancing Queens in caskets of life,
majestically sweeping salty rivers, swiftly gliding across in landless sites, embellished in gardens nurtured by old wrinkled, shriveled hands In narrow paths with sinking sand.
I'll let you decide what it's all about.
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