Sometimes I put pen to paper,
or thumbs to keypad,
that my cares may rise like vapour to one that's greater.

These times have left me aloof,
often blind to the truth,
waking up everyday with a sense of renewed hope,
simultaneously with dense legs that don't want to get out of bed cause I won't cope.

Walking this fine line where I'm subject to a steep positive ***** with my head in the clouds or a negative drop with my face in these psalms.
Selah.
A carrier of this deceased old me hanging and weighing down on the free man.

Coming to realise how hard it is to optimize in this life,
much easier to stay paralysed and pessimize all the strife.

I got so many lines about these tough times but only one thing I'm really trying to say.

When we see a monsier or madame on the other side of the lane and they're clearly in pain we shouldn't refrain, to engage in their sorrow; whisper a word or two for them to the one called True. Maybe go a little further and ask them how they do?

Oh how consoling it is to know a faithful friend from the bitter days to the better ends.

Whichever way that the valley bends may we say that we never really walked alone. Plucking from the beak of a famous duck: It's hard to do these things alone,
so just hold on we'll make it home.

They'd be debating over the msg, kjv, niv, etc,
while he drowned in *******,
tormented as he trialed his conversion,
vice city no longer a mere game,
but the vicinity of his brain,
conscious corrupted in chains,
marveled at unfruitful doctrines strange,
left sick on the verge of deranged,
eyes laying sight on the vile,
called out but took the bait of the Nile,
stiff-necked afraid to plough the furrow,
skin-deep till it got to the marrow,
no shield when struck by the arrow,
backslid and strayed from the narrow.

It's said that a stitch in time saves nine,
well pass the wool to the fools,
stress to them that nothing's as it seams,
coil caution tape around what's commonly coveted,
weary of winding up the woeful with warnings they're wound up to be wounded.

It's only a while before wit gives way to grit and the garments don't fit,
leaving behind a bare brother brewing bitterly on cold concrete,
his evidence is shaken,
validity made volatile,
placed on a polluted pile,
slide her a sweater for she shivers,
he should've known better.

Tell the young black stallion,
most times his mare knows best,
there's a stark simplicity to the test,
tell them all to labour to enter in to His rest.

You will be the head and not the tail,
girl,
you will be the head and not the tail,
boy,
are you the head and not the tail,
woman,
are you the head and not the tail,
man,
You will be the greatest and not the least,
you will be at my table when we feast,

Called out but took the bait of the Nile,
stiff-necked afraid to plough the furrow,
skin-deep till it got to the marrow,
no shield when struck by the arrow,
backslid and strayed fro
Voices that I dread,
mockers in my head,
Oh that stubborn old man!
I thought that he was dead.

Tell me a greater pain than playing yourself.
Show me a stronger vain,
than enslaving yourself.

Sent abroad only to learn I'm a fraud.
don't feel like your son,
despise what I've become,
my faith is hazy,
my hands are lazy,
just needed a bit of mustard,
**** I'm such a bustard!
most hero's go unsung;
more is always said than done.

Lust, moths, rust and exodus,
without the spirit I'm just walking dust,
without your spirit I'll keep breaking trust,
take naught, take knot, take not I plea,
cast the tempter into the sea,
don't blame the tempter when you don't flee,
that's how you turn into a pharisee.

oh Lord oh God don't let me sleep,
don't let me fall deeper in iniquity,
restore my joy,
revive my glee,
oh break these chains,
oh set me free,
I should have known it all the while,
I was once in denial but time has proven this true,
I'm in love with the Nile.

king by side
queen takes knight,
dusks to dawns,
bishops preying on pawns,
crannies and rooks,
1000 Benji's in The Book,
30 pieces silver all it took,
fishers of men by hook or crook,
ends justify,
ying for the yang,
black for the white,
depths of duplicity,
deadly duality.

The prince of platitudes,
logging for wolves,
specks by his eye,
maybe a stye,
he thought he could see,
learned that he's blind.

Dexter's and Deedee's,
Ed Edd's and and Eddy's,
washed in the red,
sailing unsteadily.

Gotta grind to acquire a k9,
a Canon or a canine,
merry in the mundane,
simply to stay sane.

Tiger Woods nails a hole in one,
The Lamb nailed a hole in three,
took the L never kept the score,
hoping to see his eaglets soar,
back as a lion ready to roar,
not an apparition he let them feel,
no longer heard the hissing at his heel.

Mirages made in desert thirst,
caused them to stray and whine,
to the point it was fine to dine with swine,
in the cool shadow of his wings their wounds will heal,
for it's for his house he has the zeal,
refining ore he's packed and sealed,
the greatest gift to men revealed,
salvation for every nation,
with the gospel's propagation,
disciples' proliferation,
entire generations,
discover true liberation.