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you lose when you let them take your joy
from you
and when you don't ****** it back
it's all on you
the one who is in control
of your life
nobody can take anything that belongs to you
don't let them
****** it back
or else you'll lose
are you losing?
Alyssa Underwood Nov 2015
It is out of the heart’s cavernous longing and furious search
for love, significance, acceptance, approval, identity, security,
freedom, belonging, innocence, intimacy and transcendence—
out of its primordial memory of what was lost to us in the Garden—
that we begin to ***** idols for ourselves.

Unconsciously we hope they might restore to us a taste of paradise,
taking away our fear and shame and isolation.
We yearn to go back but, alas, we cannot get in from there.
We ache to connect to beauty, to be desired by it as much as we desire it,
and Jesus is the only door by which we may enter.
He is the Beauty, and all the rest are simply there like pealing bells
to arouse our hearts to Him and tell us that He is coming for us.

Still, as if we haven’t quite yet heard and believed the message, we keep
aimlessly trying to forge a false righteousness through our false gods.
When they are lost or the dreams of them unrealized we are devastated,
for the shadows, echoes and reflections we had supposed would finally
make us feel good about ourselves have been exposed as frauds,
and once again we are left to feel naked but without fig leaves to cover us.

It is at these precise moments, when the bottom of our false hope falls out,
that we are best prepared to encounter Christ in His intimate fullness
and most apt to recognize at last that He alone is everything
we have been so desperately wanting.
It is our boiling point, where the unbearable weight
of failed expectation so crashes in on us that we are finally
begging God to lift our idols off of us and deliver us from them,
pleading with Him to come and capture us,
crying out to Him to possess us fully.
~~~
Anya Sep 2018
In elementary school
Things were so much simpler
My three titles-
Artist
Reader
Nice
-Basically defined me
In other’s eyes
...
Now,
I am lost
In a sea of people
No clear direction
No clear idea
Of who I am
Where I belong
will I ever?
Wordsmith Sep 2018
She seems pretty queer
Yes she does
Something odd
Something peculiar

Is it in her insouciance
Is it in her audacity
Is it in her pirouettes
Spun with such vivacity

Is it in her defiance
Is it in her nonrepentance
Is it in her reveling so free
A form full of glee

Sometimes impetuous
All times ingenuous
Aflame with passion
An immersive intoxication

Cracking down on this mystery
A perplexing dichotomy
Let's remove the misfitting pieces
In sync with commonplace notions

Alas what dismantling of a girl
at peace with her pieces
What uprooting of a girl
at home in her body
Wordsmith Aug 2018
In love we are bound,
yet in love we are free.
Bound to one,
bound to circumstance.
While bestowing upon us
the spiritual freedom,
in hardship and adversity,
to escape our current existence
into a world that knows only beauty,
comfort and belonging.
Giving us strength,
giving us meaning
Blade Maiden Aug 2018
There's something
light &
heavy
simple &
steady
I crave
I feel it in my bones
When it overcomes me like a wave
I'm shaking off these heavy stones

Carefully placing them on the shore
of the seas of my own mind
Hands sore
from carrying them here from where I find
them just like they are supposed
to be right here
and they might be the most
lovely signs of a lack of fear

I believe
I've quite the courage
Though this ocean speaks of retrieve
waves looking like familiars, not sure which

Feeling like one of the last unicorns
being forced into stormy waters
by an angry red bull and it's sharpened horns
a tide that speaks of forgotten daughters

Lost their hope of escaping
but in this hidden place
I found a chance for reshaping
standing tall in the face
of my crimson enemy
holding me in a sea of longing
winds whispering of a remedy
I cast myself in a place of belonging

And take these shores
with it's many stones
I'll come without anger or remorse
to feel it in my bones
Leighanna Aug 2018
I am like an astronaut floating in the sea
I know where I’m supposed to be
and I know it’s not here
Yet despite the creeping sense of my vindicated isolation
I still manage to revel in the wonderment that surrounds me
I may not be where I belong
But I am here none the less
So instead of trying so hard to find my place
I will accept where I have landed
For while I may not be here for a long time
I am here
And here is beautiful
I’m not really sure what to say about this one, it came to me quite quickly so I apologize that it may not be as good as some of my formers. To be simple I guess it’s just how I feel.
Sharon Talbot Aug 2018
Waiting in Barbados,
For him to come to his senses.
The heat makes fools of us all,
Save for those used to its
Fiery caress,
Not much cooled
By the lukewarm sea.

Under the palm trees I can wait,
An eternity it seems,
Sipping *** straight from the bottle
Refusing the beads and conch shells
From the beach boys
By the turquoise sea.

Only when the sun sets, quick, surprising,
Its luminous frangipani
Red, thrown down from peach-colored clouds
And night falls soft.
Music from old Bridgetown,
I can go out and forget.

Then I dance to familiar, foreign beats,
Offered to the passing ear,
Pulling me further away from the northern frost
I begin to lose perception,
The moon and stars realign,
Washing away care for possible pasts.

But, waking up on the cooling sand,
Full moon, like an old woman scolding,
Silver-crowned waves roll in,
Irreverent, laughing at me
And I see I am such a stranger
To the land,
To the absence of him.

One last swim in the sand-bottomed pool,
Beneath the cliff, walls sheltering,
Limpid water caressing and
Crystal sun trying to blind me.
I must arise before I forget,
Leave here before it claims me
And rush back home to wait.

September 22, 2002
This is about the very beginnings of a relationship, being drawn to someone, knowing you must have them, but feeling the fear of rejection or failure. It also means that going far away is not enough to escape the pull of that person, of one's desire for them.
Joy Munde Aug 2018
Speak your heart out,they all keep saying;as they turn away their glassy stares away from your face. Out of the abundance of our hearts our mouths speak,still said by the many...but what happens when all that's in our heads is let out?

Ain't you just tired of how all seems to keep going and going,I mean, opening the floodgates of your heart, blaring your soul out to other lost beings, but still cage all that which burns and screams within your head?

Thus you choose to write poems. Writing them down for the few who seem patient enough to wait the ripples to settle,making the words much clearer and thus create a less treacherous path to your bleeding self and tormented head.
You take up your feelings and words straight from your over punctured narcotic-filled veins, sharing the learned and acquired lessons in your mind and maybe...maybe seeing the beauty within and amidst your pain.

But...our world being what it is,they all stab you in the back as you lean in for that homely embrace that signifies acceptance and familial bond. Through this it dawns upon you, that you really never stood a chance with them at all...that you were the only standing chance that you needed,and nothing exists in humanity save for our physical lust and greedy wants.

And in all this,you become one with your struggles, not a runner from reality but more of a believer;a crusader for pain.
So next time  you hear them say speak your heart out,just look for the next exit,and run. Run....for your own sanity depends on your agility. And oooohhhh....forget not your pen and paper when you run, for in each step you make,your thoughts and words shall follow you.
All that which resides in your head shall never abandon you. Your blessed curse.

©JoyRedd
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