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i remember telling a girl
(maybe
asking her)
"what is there
besides
love?"
i guess there's
mockery
lists of
everything
inked on paper
remind you to do
all the things
you shouldn't have to
if i didn't have
kind of the *******
family situation
ever
there would be SO many things
i wouldn't have to think about
like getting kicked out of this house
we don't own
mom killing me
again
so much for
mother hens
dad going to jail
for not paying child support
like, what the **** are we supposed to do
WE CAN'T PAY
why am i so responsible
for all of this...
rhyme schemes can go to hell

help.
everyone sings about
talks about
preaches about
having a ***** past
no one tells you what to do
with a ***** coin
of a future
that erodes in your pocket
silently
but heavily
eyes shining
with casualty numbers
and flashes of
bombs exploding
i can't stop watching them
replay it over and over
i'm waiting to
feel something
i am so
numb
to loss...
it's frightening
There in that crevice, in that corner
buried in horror and humiliation:

a broken resolve, a frozen dream;

waiting in resurrection, guiding
us on, that still small voice
in the wilderness of the heart
that just never gets smothered.

There is a risen Lord in all of us, waiting
waiting to tide over, waiting to cross over;

Yes He finds us, when unsteady

faith is rocking in a hundred storms,
walking on the waters. Yes
the sea of Galilee is indeed here;
When in awe we sit by the doors

of that right reverend,
or that elevated achiever,

He allows our tears to wash his feet,

our hair to dry them up
and pours His simple love out;
He revives the dead in us; Yes,
He is death revived,

the resurrected Truth in us, the
eternal Hope of an unfamished fragrance.
They say that God lives very high;
  But if you look above the pines
You cannot see our God; and why?

And if you dig down in the mines,
  You never see Him in the gold,
Though from Him all that’s glory shines.

God is so good, He wears a fold
  Of heaven and earth across His face,
Like secrets kept, for love, untold.

But still I feel that His embrace
  Slides down by thrills, through all things made,
Through sight and sound of every place;

As if my tender mother laid
  On my shut lids her kisses’ pressure,
Half waking me at night, and said,
  “Who kissed you through the dark, dear guesser?”
Is it just me,
or does it seem like church
isn’t really how God wanted it to be?
They like to expect things of me, that I just cant be.
Im trying but this person hidden deep inside of me got me fighting for a lot of me, looking deep inside of me, only alittle hope left, as far as I can see…
And as far as I can see, wearing snap backs, hoop ear rings, and skinny jeans isn’t a public disgrace, humiliation or the sign of a bad reputation
As long as your seeking, searching, looking for his face
You come to church for meditation
You come to God for worship
Even though you think we are coming here with are own vanity purchase .
Im not trying to hate on my own kind
But im not in with these actors called pastors.
Manipulating woman, doing these things behind the stage,
And AFTER THAT singing a solo on WORSHIP?
Whats next?
That’s backwards.
They might as well be sniffing ******* first..
And if that’s God, then I don’t know HIM
I guess im already in my church clothes
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