If control is given to
me, I don't have
it (just the fact of
a gift) but
if I want it I need to
take
to take control
how I get it
matters! I
must take my
life my work my
sleep my hair my friends
my time to fight
for control I must
take

or give, when I've tired of
taking

You can
        Lean on me
  And let our broken pieces slide against each other
    And together, we will make a **beautiful ******* mosaic

So today is the day
You thought about being old
Your prayers suddenly became real
You saw your Dad in the backseat of a car
Until you remembered he’s no longer there

My eyes were closed
But I was still awake
I saw only grey until a small hole appeared
Inside were tiny pink flowers on a window sill
Now I’m wondering what they were doing there

It’s come down to this
Everything is a sign
It’s not so much about enjoying myself anymore
I wanted to ask someone whose been here before
So I dug a hole just to see if anyone was there

Doing yourself a serious favor
Is trying not to think so much
The answers are the usual questions
I’m not dying young but which way is the door
I drove off I but gave money to a man over there

The radiator's hissing and it's ******* down outside, I'm watching two old beggars in the doorway where they hide and I'm sensing a temptation or some moral obligation to shout and ask them in and share a shepherd's pie with them and open up a tin or two,

You who have it comfy should realise it don't come free and I'm speaking of your life of which you'll have to pay a fee,

two old beggars with tales to straighten hair,
I'm glad I asked them inside and
never left them over there.

Mothers, sell your children to the church,
Foods hard currency, when the rains no longer come,
and the gods of old seem dead.
Now your praying in the white mans church 'cause the white mans god has bread to spare.

Children, you're the future of your tribe,
Please don't forget the old ways, for the old days will return.
There's more than words to language,
more than heat shared when the camp fires burned.

I have a Crown that waits
In glory up above
A diadem of diamonds
And other stones of love

My blood it is as rubies
My sweat deep blue sapphires
My tears are as a topaz
Peridot, turquoise.

There are Opals in my charity
Pearls in my patience
Beryls in my honesty
Fire agate in my faith

Emeralds in empathy
I run from greed & vice
Moonstone in great mercy
Chrystophase in Christ

All these stones, and many more
Will never fade, grow old
They will be set in Floral Designs
Bezels of purest gold.

I design my diadem
With care, tender and great
To gain these stones I must allow
For vagaries of fate
There is mention of a mansion
That will be an estate
But I look forward to that crown

TO CAST AT JESUS' FEET!


SoulSurvivor
(C) 11/21/2016