Sweat.
Like great drops of Blood.
"Not my will, but Yours be done."
He
denied.
Himself.
He denied.
His comfort.
He denied.
His fear.
He denied.
His own life.
And took up the Cross.
For me.
For you.
"Not my will, but Yours be done."

I am His.
And He calls me to the Cross.
To deny myself.
For His will.
"Not my will, but Yours be done."
Shall I follow?
Or stay comfortable?
Shall I choose the Way of the Cross?
And count all else as loss?

Not my will.
But His.
Be done.

I can see you from my 11th floor window, but you can not see me. As you reach this 4 way light you take off your vibrant red hat and stop. As If you're not sure whether to go left, right or straight. You ponder for 9 seconds and go left. What has your day brought you, that you come to a corner so late in the night, and don't know which way your going next? If I could, I would say to you I know just how you feel. At a time when most are lost in their dreams or even making love, you don't know which direction to turn. What has brought us to a point , that at such a desolate hour, you don't know where your going and I lose myself in thought for an hour because I see a person walking down the street? Most are in the comfort of loved ones but we are dealing with the demons in our head. It's quite possible you ran out of bread and desperately need to find a convenience store that's open so you can make the grilled cheese you crave.. nonetheless, May the purpose of your journey be fulfilled and  your hands stay warm. I hope when you reach the next stop light , it takes a few seconds less for you to figure out where you want to be. May the lamp posts light your way and the bitter air be gentle on your exposed skin. You don't know my name, and I don't know yours, but we are a tiny part of each others journey on this lost night.

A carpenter found driftwood
From a wreck upon the sea
He looked at it with interest
What kind would it be?

He found that it was oaken
Mighty, strong and hale
But it had been broken
By tempest and by gale

He was building houses
From such sturdy oak
So he took the driftwood
Upon it for to work

He carved with sharpened chisels
He began to sand
He had red, raw cuts of pain
And splinters in his hands

He worked with it patiently
Imposed on it his will
It will be something wondrous
He's working on it still

He loves that piece of driftwood
He salvaged from the sea
For the Carpenter is Jesus

And that piece of wood is ME


SoulSurvivor
(C) 6/23/2016

I watch you destroy yourself one sip at a time.
Spending late nights searching for your ***** sprite,
asking people left and right,
if they got that medicine that's gonna make you feel alright.
Just lookin' to get a few sips,
take a few hits,
maybe see a few ****.
Because that's gonna make you feel alright.
I watch you destroy yourself one sip at a time.
so ****** up you can't walk a straight line.
Wonderin' if this is really how your spending your time!
****.
a few more sips and you can put that thought out of your mind.
I watch you destroy yourself one. sip. at. a time.
Hollowing out your own god ****** heart,
ripping the fibers of who you are apart.
no identity.
afraid to be,
wanting to be,
struggling to be,
What's that word?
free.
I watch you destroy yourself one sip at a time.
Couple drinks in and you're thinking you've found your destiny in the *** of some little dime.
Can't get a grip.
Blinded by
hollywood
materialism
narcissism
and all that *******.
And your EGO
E
G
O
Is edging your own god out.
feeling sick and full of doubt.
Caught up on the wrong route.
Youre being misguided, mislead, ill advised,
but your bank account has all those digits,
so who gives a **** that you're destroying your insides.
I've shoveled more **** that I wish to admit.
I've had my fair share of different kinds of sip sip sips.
I know your game, and I know why you're running.
But "****** up"?
Isn't very becoming.

There's this mermaid girl I knew once.
She had long blonde hair,
and she smoked tobacco under water.
She defies the laws of the universe.
She had deep green eyes
that screamed the names of lonely sailors.
I hear they got lost in her eyes,
so lost no nautical device could guide them away.
Her ******* were covered by shells.
Sea shells that glowed their gratitude as they lay on her chest.
I hear she moved exactly like the ocean, or maybe the ocean mimicked her.
When I heard her voice,
it was like bubbles.
Like bubbles that begin at the bottom of the sea and run through the water to so delicately burst on the top.
But even delicate bubbles have capacity for violence.
We, they, you, have reverence for a voice they tell stories about.
Her face shone like the ripples of light at sunset that stunned the sailors in awe.
Her hands, smooth like pearls.
Her lips, tantalizingly terrifyingly beautiful as all the reefs the wrecked the ships.
I knew a mermaid girl once. She had long blonde hair and she smoked tobacco underwater.

So much is written
in between the pages of that book
If you're judging me by what is written,   you need to take another look

You don't know that I'm a mother
I've worked hard all my life
I raised little a family
I was my husband's wife

We had a little girl
who couldn't breathe right on her own
I wasn't even with her
I could not take her home
I had a little boy who now is six foot eight
I love my children dearly don't tell me it's too late

I  tried to be the daughter
My Father wished I'd be
I have the greatest people
who make up my family

Alone I carry burdens
not written anywhere
so don't you whisper I'm a coward
don't you EVER even dare

Like my daughters fight
to earn a spot here on this earth
what you're reading on those pages
shows nothing of my worth

I will not allow you
to trample
on my name
was given by my father
who'd put your *** to shame

I love my little family
dysfunctional and all
Your hurtful foolish words
well they really take some Gaul
I am quite intelligent
I'm sure you know it's true
I put you in your place
and now you know just who

I am.

Cherie Nolan © 2016

I think sunset is the most dangerous time
When we all stand staring at colors in the sky
Forgetting
The sunrise to new reds, pinks, and oranges

The blue sky is forgotten
And the way the rays beat upon our skin
Harming
Our lips leaving cracks and parched tongue

Do we remember the swaying grass?
The boulders that lay along the path
Blocking
Us from the cool relief of the ocean

Our muscles burned with new adventure
The wind kissed us and we kissed back
Wishing
For a little more time and a little less

No one thinks of the birds' conversation
Their brief melodies spawned passion
Developing
Attachment or shedding what little we had

I still remember the blues of the sky
But now our shadows stretch longer
Losing
The feeling of noon's light and heat

I still feel the sandman's kiss in my eyes
The subtle and hopeful beginning
Rising
Eagerly so that I may see the sunset