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littlebrush Jan 2019
it was a bottle or two,
downed, you know,

by this grave, grave "poetic hen."

birthing eggs of nothing,

words that'll scroll up in a thousand screens

like yours, like mine,

we share, you and I,
a great,
a very great,
nothing.
littlebrush Jan 2019
Soy tormenta.
violenta.

Por dentro, solamente.

Si me ves por fuera,
veras, querida,
a cualquier otra.
Como todas,
no hablamos del dolor,
ni de la incapacidad
de levantarse cada mañana.

Y como?
En esta Honduras?
Donde la penumbra se encuentra,
en la sombra de las criticas,
el chisme, clase alta,
y pendeja,

y por eso seguimos
aqui.
Hope to reach some latin american friends out there.
littlebrush Jan 2019
keep this,
you.

In this loneliness,
I've missed you.
littlebrush Jan 2019
In the deep corners of 3am,
I find her.
  Jul 2018 littlebrush
Poetemkin
Charles Wesley, pub. 1742

Arise, my soul, arise; shake off thy guilty fears;
The bleeding Sacrifice in my behalf appears:
Before the throne my surety stands,
Before the throne my surety stands,
My name is written on His hands.

He ever lives above, for me to intercede;
His all-redeeming love, His precious blood to plead:
His blood atoned for all our race,
His blood atoned for all our race,
And sprinkles now the throne of grace.

Five bleeding wounds He bears, received on Calvary;
They pour effectual prayers; they strongly plead for me:
“Forgive him! O, forgive!” they cry,
“Forgive him! O, forgive!” they cry,
“Nor let that ransomed sinner die!”

The Father hears Him pray, His dear anointed One;
He cannot turn away the presence of His Son;
His Spirit answers to the blood,
His Spirit answers to the blood,
And tells me I am born of God.

My God is reconciled; His pard’ning voice I hear;
He owns me for His child; I can no longer fear:
With confidence I now draw nigh,
With confidence I now draw nigh,
And “Father! Abba, Father!” cry.
The lines "His blood atoned for all our race" are to be understood as referring to the human race. I suggest "His blood atoned for ev'ry race" as an alternate reading for those who regard humanity to be composed of more than one race.
  Jul 2018 littlebrush
Poetemkin
I thought to myself
"Oh, the places I could be!"
And the Lord said,
"Behold, there is a place by me…"

Exodus 33:21
littlebrush Jul 2018
with all the fire bursting within?
will it make sense?
will anyone listen?

with all the rockets,
fading,
with all the roar and wild and the wind
roaring here, in my roaring heart,
in the boat in this storm of a mind,
rocked,
this rocket ship,
will it fade?
Where will it go?

I am fire
I am burning,
not in passion but in thoughts
riling and riding my mind like a bull,
like a the storm that made the disciples run amok
here and there, screaming, at the edge of losing their lives

and Jesus is sleeping.
hasn't taught me how,
or I haven't learned yet.

That's probably it.

The art of resting
in the midst of the thunder,
lying in bed as the sky cracks and breaks into pieces

the art of slumber, of peace, of contentedness and gratefulness
is an art I need.
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