Be it from happiness or depression
From butterflies in your stomach
Or from secret frustrations
From your sanity intact
Or from your dark hallucinations
From your broken heart
Or from fresh or healing wrist wound
From love letters you write
Or journeys to the moon

Continue your poems
Let it be the ink of hope
Let everything, good or bad, be your inspiration
To write one more poem tomorrow
To look forward to tomorrow

Just keep on writing
Keep on rhyming
Continue your poetry

Dear Lord,
Please give me the strength and reason to continue
Because I see none
And I have none
But this cant go on
Cos I need to make my dreams come true.

Someone, Somewhere, loves you

and you are merely an idea.

A skim on the surface between daydream and  reality.

Every flaw is sculpted as perfection in their eyes

they see only beauty flowing from your pores.

on good days and bad.

they are unaware of your eyes by color but know the twinkle that reflects off each when you laugh

they know you not by the feel of your bones or the caress of your curves but only the warmth of your touch

your image burns bright white,

and the radiant light that shines from the hair they know not by color, brings hope to their heart.

somewhere, someone, is thinking of you.

you and only you.

if the voices become to loud, imagine theirs louder.

if the walls cave in, imagine their arms stronger.

When everyone is telling you No, listen for their screams Yes.

If you feel alone, wipe the tears from your cheeks and remember that someone loves you.

I walk down the broken path.
No shoes and no clue.
My feet get cut as I continue on.
With every step I take I begin to crumble and fall.
I Pick up myself and notice another person beside me falling and crying.
I walk over to him a lend my hand.
He takes it and we hold hands and continue On.
As we approach the gates we look back and see all of what we once were.

O Lord, it’s morning; I’m here,
seeking Your face and guidance;
hear the echoing words of my heart;
they’re not some human contrivance

to guilt You into honoring Your Word;
I know that you’re not a lying Man,
with false, hollow promises that tease.
Living my life with these empty hands

raised unto You alone, I ache and yearn
for the sound, of Your quiet voice-
that gently soothes my Christian soul.
Despite today’s harshness, I rejoice…

knowing that the battle belongs to You.
Therefore, I continue to be still-
basking in Your Presence once more,
waiting for You to reveal Your Will…

that’s been individually crafted for me.
.
.
.
Author Notes

Inspired by:
Psa 46; Exo 14:14

Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
    
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2015, All rights reserved.

3 weeks sober and I feel good...
who knew being normal would make me feel so much happier.....I never knew it would.....

I just want to stay for ever this way.....
and just need to be cautious and take it day by day......

I'll admit,
I've stumbled
more times
than I could
possible count,
I've sat on the
cold hard ground
and nearly
convinced myself
that this was it,
I was done,
and yet each
time I have
managed to
pick myself up
and give it
another shot.
I don't know
how many
chanced I'll
get in my
lifetime, but I
do know that
until my body
refuses,
I will continue
to stand
back up.
-JRM

**** you. You give me that feeling. You know. The one they write about and make movies about. But you don't have that feeling and you have her. So why the hell do you make me feel this way? **** you.

I wish there was something left to say, an utterance to explain what it is I feel right now.
This second.
Feelings of loneliness creep around me, even though you sit merely inches away.
Hopeless, I have broken the stick and the white flag is raised.
Sobbing, I cannot cry with a tear, but I assure you, I am sobbing.
The dryness in my throat, allows no further arguing.
Can you not see, I am sinking.
I am destined to, why are you here to mock me, try to save me.
I will not let you anyways.
Defeat, I refuse to accept anything but.
I close my eyes now, making amends that this will be the last time.
The last time.
But it isn't.
You will remain here, and so will I.