When you… embrace His Grace,
you are made complete in Him;
the moral purity of His Word
and the power of His Presence
are sufficient for your race,

that you take alone on Earth.
He is your definitive Source,
your eternal, tireless Counsel,
your All-in-All and The Almighty.
Christ’s shed blood was worth

the sacrifice, He made for you!
Trust His Word, the finished work
on The Cross and His promises;
speak His Truth over your Life;
and you’ll discover breakthroughs

that draw you… even closer to Him!
Believe for His health, provision,
plan and purpose that He’s offered;
His efforts are final and complete;
honor Him now with songs and hymns!
.
.
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Author notes

Inspired by:
Mal 3:6; Num 23:19; Psa 33:11, 143:8;
Col 3:16; Eph 5:19

Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ

By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2016, All rights reserved.

I can't afford attachment
Because my peace of mind is too costly
Not that I don't truly care about anyone
It's just that nowadays it seems like trying to be nice
Is Like playing Russian Roulette with a submachine gun
Now it seems like playing with people's emotions is the latest form of fun
and you can't stop people from feeling, it's like trying to move the sun
So I can't afford attachment, I'm going to save myself excess pain

I wish I could pay for love as my tears fall down like drops in the rain...

i am not good with words
i was never good at literature
never good at fathoming
my thoughts, cries, and pleads into lines and rhymes
always on the look out
for words that i can never understand
and metaphors that dont match
but i'll use them anyway because i thought they'll look nice.
i was never good at poetry,
always forgetting to water
the flowers on my tongue
so they just wither away
and the soil of my literature
will run dry as the pen on my table.
i was never good at using words
as an outlet of my shriveling thoughts
i
never
knew
when
to
hit
the
enter
key
i was never good at this.
but your ears were always closed
and your eyes were always open,
on the look out for your next lover
so here i am.
a girl with poetry for lips and paint fir blood.
here it is.
my poetry,
in all of its pain & glory.

the daughter of Apollo
whistles back at birds
reminding them to stay close,
she knows that Icarus
was a dense
bloke so it goes, they circle
in the overexposed
sky and come back just
shy of the shine, and the cicadas
always know when it's time.
then she says, "come along,"
and they all know to go,
following the whistle
of the daughter of Apollo.

I want to sleep on the surface tension of your perilous love. Willingly submitting my entire being on a paper-thin layer, separating me from your overwhelming abyss. Trustingly allowing my heart, as it falls off my chest, to be consumed by your drowning affection.

You kissed me Good Morning
            And go on your day
                     I lay and wonder
         Do you think about me all day?

                         Do you have moments
            Or sailing away scenes
          Thinking about our lasting moments
               **When you think about me?

A kindling
A fire
An inferno
A pyre
Smouldering away within

A bitterness
A taste
A poison
Called fate
Combined and I might just sin

sometimes
you just have
    to size up
the man.
(silence)
   eyes moving slowly
*i can take you.