I came across something convicting the other day
Something extremely relevant to our lives today


Jesus wouldn't judge them for their typos and bad grammar and spelling mistakes, and neither should I.

From the moment your born, roll on death.

Alcoholics Unsatisfied sit round in a circle,
soft acquitting eyes passively flow in direction
left and right, never direct nor convicting
always looking out but focused on the void inside.

The moment you step, doomed to fall

Your childhood you say, you weren’t breastfed
Daddy used to drink, its in the blood
the ****** horror that shook the house down
now stands at the door, dormant and waiting

From the moment you speak, its already over.

The excuses rolled out like sludge about you
And your running on empty, just fumes, exhale
Breathe in shame, disgust and self-loathing
These places always polluted with that smell

From the moment you kiss, you know you've lost something

Sit, relax, help yourself to a drink
Plastic cups, plastic chairs, plastic coffee
your marrow may be exposed
but rest assured we, the faceless, nameless few, are here to help.

From the moment you drink, your released.

I have a heart that
No matter what I do,
She doesn't come back
When she decides to leave.
She sits on my sleeve
And every once in a while
I let her out. Tentatively.
To explore, to trust.
To connect.
Me to you or...
to him.
I say "don't go too far."
Echoing my mother,
Knowing such obedience is short-lived.
Because it was in me.  
Every time I'm shocked.
The connection breaks
and my heart makes a choice.
It's always to stay,
never to come back
to the shirt cuff
she once called home.

I have a mind that
Wonders...why?
I need my heart,
He doesn't even want her.
I'll take care of her,
He has no idea she's there.
And yet she stays.
And Lord knows I can't change her mind.
She's all heart.
So I go on feeling,
All the neglect,
All of her ache.
And people say, "Let her go."
"Move on."
But they don't understand,
It's not quite so easy,
I can't reason with her.
And reasons
Are all they give me.
And they don't understand,
She's never coming back.
I know, because I feel it.
She's past deciding
To make her own way in the world.
Good or bad, but without me.
She'll hurt, and I'll feel,
But I can't help her.
Not anymore.

I have hands that
Keep giving out love,
The busy things forget.
I tell them,
"We don't have a heart anymore,
Stop that."
But they're so bogged down,
Always processing, filing.
The message doesn't reach them in time,
And before I can stop it,
They've given and collected enough love;
A new heart's been born.
Everyone knows that's how hearts are made.
And alive, thriving, revitalized,
She can't understand yet
Why her mother is so broken.
All she knows is goodness,
She can't comprehend
her sisters before her.
She complains
About the rules I give her.
She rebels, and tries to run away,
I'm determined to keep her close though.

I have blood that,
cannot help but flow with passion,
With a longing to explore new paths,
Encounter new things.
He runs through my heart,
my precious heart,
and gives her
Excitement, vigor, curiosity.
See, blood lives in the moment,
He has miles of roads to explore,
So many things to experience.
He tells my heart all of his stories,
All the things he's seen and done.
And she's much too young
To resist such influence.
She tugs and tugs on my arm,
Begging to be set free,
She'll run at anything that peaks her interest,
Always heedless of my warnings.
I don't want her to leave,
I know she won't come back.
But I need her to grow as well,
So once again,
I let her creep, here and there;
Try things.
But where her eldest sister
Once had the entire world
As her playground,
My heart's radius of play
Grows ever smaller.

I have arms that,
with every heart gone,
Grow stronger.
They're menacing, but compassionate.
They know of my turmoil,
And their will to hold tighter,
To my dear heart,
Becomes evermore powerful.
She's frustrated, moody all the time.
She can't stand chains;
She was born to be free.
I can't tell her,
"Hey, slow down, he's not that great."
She won't listen.
She'll drum faster.
She doesn't know that I'm so afraid.
I'm afraid she'll be gone.
Once again.
I feel her longing,
Hoping, waiting.
Someone needs to peak her interest,
Enough so she can run
And not be stopped.

I have eyes that,
Slip the secret,
Connection is power, strength.
In a glance,
They know a thousand things.
My heart learns from them
The hearts of hundreds.
Some of these hearts are harmless.
I've discovered I can trust them,
To play with my heart
Without convicting her,
To the point of no return.
I feel safe with these hearts close by.
Maybe, if she can explore just these,
She'll be satisfied, and not leave.
Alas, her curiosity always proves too strong.
She wants something more
Something stronger.
She wants to be in love.
And isn't that what everyone wants for their hearts?
I'm conflicted, I should let her go,
But how do I know?
Maybe she's smarter than her sisters.
But that's silly,
After all, just like them,
She's all heart.
Truth is, I don't know.
I have to trust her.
So once again, I set her free.

I have a body that
Can't help but follow my heart.
They've become best friends,
Both inspired by blood's speeches,
Both supporting one another,
Both excited, young, curious.
At this point, they're inseparable.
And so I give myself to someone new,
My body connects with his,
And as always, my heart follows.
My heart and his heart, intertwined.
My heart has never felt so alive,
And for a moment, I'm convinced too.

But then,
He somehow wrenches his heart away from mine.
Maybe one of his lost hearts has returned.
And he wants his heart
To get to know it's brother.
Or maybe he was never
That caught up in the first place.
It was my heart,
Clinging as hard as she could
To something she thought she could
Believe in.
I can't tell,
My eyes no longer
Connect with his.
Blood no longer
Rushes to my cheeks
To be closer to his.
My body longs for him,
And seeks a replacement.
My arms feel empty
They try to find something to hold.
My hands keep busy,
Trying to ignore
How they're no longer
Kept still by his.
My mind takes the longest.
But with time, she forgets too.
Somehow though,
My heart still clings to him.
He didn't know,
It would always be his to keep.
I did.
I've done it all before.

And so, here I am.
And my hands keep giving love,
My mouth keeps setting smiles loose.
Soon enough a new heart will be born.
I'll be even more strict with this one.
Maybe my arms will be strong enough,
My mind smart enough,
To not let this one go.
Probably not.
My eyes search for the next one.
Cautiously. With reserve.
Because if he's found,
I know I'll have to decide
If I should keep my heart away.

I go on, things keep moving,
I keep feeling.
I watch all of my old hearts carefully.
I wish them the best.
They beat on,
Alongside those who took them.
Each one seems a bit smarter than the last
Maybe my mind, my experience,
Has more of an impact than I realize.
I grow,
I become better.
Maybe this time my heart will be ready.

When I am gone and one, or two
Are huddled on a funeral pew
Then ­this one thing I ask of you
Don't lie about the man you knew

For­ by the bloating of my name
You'll nullify the one who came
Who b­ore the fullness of my blame
And died in such disgraceful shame

­Know that every sin which you recall
Those times I drove you up t­he wall
My secret sins made these look small
Their evil horror wo­uld appal

Yet every crime against my king
Was matched by grace a­stonishing
Every joy a gift releasing
Freedom from my sin convict­ing

For long before the world began 
My God had forged a stunnin­g plan
Despite the dirt of my life's span
The great God loved thi­s sinful man

So mourn or shrug as you feel right
But do not fret­ about your plight
My God will keep you in his sight
A glorious h­elp in darkest night

When I am gone and one or two
Are huddled o­n a funeral pew
Lift up your eyes and look anew
For Jesus Christ ­is calling you

Gazing at the vibrant clouds in the ashen sky,
It is not them that move, but I,
For the breeze of Mother Nature is but a wafting breath,
Imparted from her *****,
To move the impartial inhabitants to harbor universal wisdom.

Thus let rivalry arise between the jurors three;
Amongst which Father time sets the sands free,
Impartial to havoc of releasing ages and convicting generations,
Set loose at his own hand,
Greatly yearning for mankind to desire to understand.

Hark and Herald, an Angel arrived on sullen black wings,
To recluse man; further reprieve wrong doings,
Slowly risen with the gallantry of gilded fervor and entitlement,
Like Atlas bearing burdens on brazen back,
Sentencing humanity to acquiesce that all is not bleak and black.

I thought for maybe a fleeting day that I liked you.
I knew it would never work.
You and me.
Me and you.
It's just not possible.
I'm nothing compared to you.

Your talent flies to the stars above,
While I sit on the grass at night and gaze in wonder.
Your passion for life shines like the sun,
While I dance in the warm light laughing with joy.

I do not love you, or even like you more than I show.
It's the thought of you that makes me smile.
It's the thought of you that makes me wonder how you are doing each day.
It's the thought of you- nothing more- that makes me want to be your friend.

I hero worship you.
I need to stop.
You are human like me.
Nothing more.
And you should be nothing more.
You are my brother that I look up to,
That I secretly admire from afar.
I am a small child in need of guidance,
A lost heart searching for a close friend,
But you cannot be that person.
You have your friends,
And I mine.
Even if we meet tomorrow,
We'll be friendly but nothing more.

Admitting I hero worship you is uncomfortable.
Convicting myself for being weak enough to do so hurts.
Convincing myself love is not an option for me is a battle.
Punishing myself for liking someone is unbearable.

I cannot love.
I must not love.
I am not capable of love.
And if I do love,
I would be better off dead than with a broken heart.
It already is fragile as glass and as worthless as fools gold from the first time I liked someone.
Again, it was the thought of him,
Hero worship.
I barely survived that.

I must never love again.

I speak in tongues of men and angels, I speak as a man that knows the angles. I rhyme truth melodically, with my methodology, my words convicting you this is no mythology. And as tides of tithes flood our church like Jordan, the lives of lies, my tongue has shortened. So let's ask the Ghost of the Most-High, high above I, to bless this mission, this mission of mine.

(Are you sold? Are you inspired? By this sorcerer peddling his strange fire? Are you scared? Are you mired? By the weight of this second-rate evil-inspired rant that can't won't couldn't shouldn't be found profound by us when by Christ it wouldn't? The "broken bonds" of this sounding gong are just more chains, just empty song)

I've loved, lived, lost!
(But burned the cross.)
I've spoke and swayed!
(At disastrous cost.)

I've sung the hymns!
(So did the Devil)
Filled our church with gold!
(The softest metal.)

I fought back the dark!
(But it left it's mark)
Laid all at the altar!
(That's still awaiting a spark)

I witnessed to the street!
(On a weak foundation.)
Was given the the finest things!
(And moth and rust will take them.)

(It was never about what he could do, what glory can God take when who is seen is you? His “my’s” and “I’s” can’t save the lost, his “my’s” and “I’s” put Him on the Cross! Man can only save what gold can buy, and in the end owns nothing but gilded lies. You've seen his path, and where it leads. Do you see now that it's from you you're freed? Not debt, not pain, not loss or strife, but the crushing weight of your debauched life?

The Son will not impart what this man asks, for to leave you the world is not His task. For we are born, but do not live, until we surrender that which was not ours to give.)

She climbed out of the window to her bedroom and into the cool night sky. Dressed in black ripped jeans and a dark colored hoodie, so she dissolves into the darkness.
A case of Corona in her hand, she jumps the few feet to the ground. Her knees bend to soften the harsh landing. She stands back up to her full height, though it isn’t that tall.
Her hood, covers her face so that she is a mystery.
The night time accepts her with open arms, understanding that she needs to be unknown for the time being to be her true self.
She stalks away from her ‘home’. Her sharp, rushed movements standing out against the white walls. Then she breaks off into a run, wanting to get away as fast as she can, not being able to stand being close any longer. She runs to her night time escape, laying down in the middle of the field underneath the leafless tree.
She looks up at the stars, wondering who each one was.
What kind of souls turn into stars when their time on earth is up?
She lets the hope that she is one of those souls slip into her mind just this time. But for only a moment, before pushing it away.
Her experience with hope has shown her that it only brings pain and heartbreak.
She reaches over to the 6-pack and takes a bottle out, sitting up. It settles into her hand like it has been destined to since it’s creation, comfortable between her fingers. She takes the bottle opener out of her left pocket and brings it to the lips of the bottle. The top pops off in one fluid motion, the practice she’s had making it as easy as breathing. She brings the rim to her chapped angry red lips, then tilts it up quickly, taking a short sweet sip of the poison ambrosia.
It tickles as it slides smoothly down her throat. She lets a small content sigh slip out and be taken away in the breeze. At home, that is how she feels sitting underneath that tree.
The stars are her shelter and the field is her bed, soft and welcoming, the tree, an old friend. Here she lets the tears run freely down her face. The salt water mixing with the bitter taste of alcohol.
She’s screaming, wailing.
Asking the universe why she hates herself so much, why they don’t want her. Why can’t he love her the way she loves him? Why can’t she already be dead? Maybe then he would realize just how much she meant to him, how much he meant to her.
As she lets this fire slip from her throat, she doesn’t notice the boy dressed in blue on the other side of the field. She doesn’t realize she isn’t alone until he is sitting next to her with one hand grasping hers.
She startles when his skin comes in contact with hers. Then she looks at him, his blue eyes, blue face, blue heart, blue soul, unsure if he can be let into her secret home. He sees her hesitate, so he brings her hand to his lips and whispers his secrets into her skin.
The tenseness in her shoulders is released and she squeezes his hand tightly. They are both on a mission to escape the lives they live.
Both have minds burdened with memories and bodies littered with scars. Running from the demons in their homes.
She reaches over to the cardboard keeper of sins and plucks another bottle from its grasp. She takes the opener and rips the top from the bottle’s lips, handing it to the Blue Boy.
He takes it with the hand not wrapped in hers and brings it to his lips quickly. Tilting it back, he downs the whole bottle. He sets the empty bottle back into the cardboard as its poison takes effect.
Then he’s stumbling to his feet and dragging her with him, towards the forest standing menacingly behind them.
She runs after him, feet not quite touching the ground and laughter hanging in their air. Engulfed in darkness under the canopy, they giggle and whisper secrets of death.
Without the stars to see by, they fall into a rabbit hole. Spiraling down to their private Wonderland, where there is no home for them and the Mad Hatter is their friend.
They can run through clouds and save each other from the demons under their beds.
Their bruises scream, convicting the guilty and their memories wail in relief from them.
But Alice couldn’t stay in her Wonderland, so neither can they. Waking from their dream, back underneath the tree, weeping at the loss of the make believe and forced to go back to reality, where their demons have them in a choke hold and the guilty hide behind atrocious lies.

I am on trial
And my sins
Are my testimony
My defense is pathetic
Crumbling under the weight
Of your
Disappointment
I cannot win this case
When I can't even
Believe myself
Everything I say
Can and is used against me
In your court
The jury is your peers
Convicting me on one night
Of blurry evidence
I'll wear this number
Forever burned in my memory
Guilty as charged

Both convicting and convincing
Pointing to what's true and right
My Daddy's worn out Bible
Always comes to mind

The pages torn and tattered
From years of loving use
My Daddy knew what mattered
From his early days of youth

As he poured over the pages
Daily in blood, sweat, and tears
No if's, and's, but's, or maybe's
His God he both loved and feared

Highlighted, both pen and marker
Words that touched his very soul
As the days grew ever darker
He knew the light to hold

And also where his strength came from
In the faithful words he'd read
Of God's grace to us poured out in love
To all who have the need

Both convicting and convincing
Pointing to what's true and right
My Daddy's worn out Bible
Always comes to heart and mind

I am convicting myself of loving you
the most loneliest trial to attend
alone I sit on the stand
I raise my right hand
to God
that there is a truth
I am hiding
burying inside me
a national treasure
of finding
the truth
is
I love you
I see your amazing
I admire the weakness of your strength
those elements of you that lack
the sight of eyes
hands couldn't even feel
I have to leave you
I don't want to
you have to leave me
with silence filling my ears
completely full
of my tears that feed me
my fears that keep me
from living my life
without you here
your laugh has become the best sound on Earth
your smile has carved itself tattoo on my skin
scrubbing the lust off
fighting the demons you left within
as I opened my life for you to fill me
I wait for the rest of you to leak out of me
but all in love is not fair
now I am condemning myself to the only lie told
I had to do all that I could
to get away from you

since I didn't get my way with you

Another day another number
Another day another empty bedside
Another day to smell the hair on the pillow sheets
That cocoon me with my frantic mind
Another day acting like
Sleeping with different girls every week is fun
Another day of being called a ****** slayer
By your friends who wish they were like you

Why oh why
Do I have to see these days pass by
Without being called a ****
Another day where men measure themselves
On how manly they are
By the number of girls you have slept with.

Sleep on this
I can’t sleep at night
As Whatshername’s
Hair brushes on my nose
I sit there thinking these 14 things
That seem to tug on shirt
Asking for my attention

1.) I hope she had fun tonight

2.) I hope this clock stays at 2:13am
maybe if I stare at it the minute hand
It won’t move

3.) I hope I can feel loved by her by another night
I want her to see
That I’m not just a ******
Craving her curves on my body.

4.) I hope she can see through the cracks of my smile

5.) I hope she sees that I’m not like everyone guy

6.) I hope I can make her pancakes when she wakes up
Before she escapes the person she calls a regret.

7.) I hope sun doesn't come up
Because I’ll have to walk alone in cold street called reality

8.) I hope she doesn't realize
The reason I have *** with her
Is to avoid to larger problems in my life.

9.) I hope that ****** worked

10.) I hope I can change my ways,
why can’t change my ways?

11.) I hope my dad’s leather belt
Isn't waiting for me
When I sneak back home,
Yet I’m excited to see it
Because I feel my father’s touch
Through the sounds of leather

12.) I hope my future son doesn't see me like this

13.) I hope my number of girls I've slept with stops at 13

14.) I hope I can stop

Stop
Stop
Stop
Whenever I try stop
All I can think of
Are those words
Floating around my head
Convicting me
That if people call you a “****”
“****** slayer”
“Man *****”
I just think to myself
“Well I guess I am who I am”
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