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Rj Jul 2018
Free at last, she breathed into the cold night air
Alone in her relief, although she is aware of all who are watching
With her small, strong hands she holds indescribable power
She holds a true kind of freedom,
an everlasting flame that warms her on the coldest nights
She smiles, bright as the stars and real as the ground on which she stands
The air no longer clouds her lungs, but clears them with every inhale
She is no longer lost,
She is found,
Not by a person, but by the universe itself
It holds her tightly with its gentle winds that run through her hair like hands
and soft skies that give her a home no matter where she goes
She relaxes into it's caring embrace, like a child back to her mother
The taste of liberation is sweet on her lips,
Like heavy rain after a drought
Her laughter rings like a bell,
Loud and clear even from miles away
Welcome home,
The universe tells her.
With the cosmos to guide her safely
And the promise of deliverance before her
She takes the first step back home.
Can't always just post sad poems u know. Anyways this has nothing to do with me I was just getting tired of being a little ***** so.
Antino Art Apr 2018
We wear this city on our feet
Planting our roots with each step
Our shadows

cast shapes of ancient oak trees stretching out over old squares at daybreak
We grow here

with the spirit of buildings past,
present and rising like a staircase to heaven in the distance,
the plumes of white smoke from their rooftops as burnt offerings for incense,
spires for steeples,
the bundled masses of people moving beneath as the calloused soles
of our feet pounding the pavement,
Our congregation

seated in reverant silence on the R-Line hissing to a stop
Their hushed prayers filing out from within to bring the reclaimed sidewalks of Fayetville Street back to life to join this pilgramage
They march

downtown toward Capitol
holding signs for disarmament
They bar-hop through Glenwood toasting to deliverance
They move in a blur of faces that become us,
Rush at all hours through our veins
Cross our hearts and keep us breathing,
Moving
wearing the city on our minds
like the greyest pieces of their winter sky and the way it caps the peaks of Mount PNC, BB&T and Wells Fargo like hoodies over our heads
We assume monk-like appearances
in robes color-coded by season- from blue collar sweaters to cold hard sweat
We'll wear their city until we're worn out and wet,

We'll wear their dreams at night
like streetlamps flickering on beneath wired telephone poles carrying conversations about each one as far south as Florida, fears unspoken, made visible
on iron park benches too cold to sit on at this hour
We'll keep walking

and wear this city like backpacks over our shoulders

under the watch of their heavens,
the skyline
a glowing testament
of every step taken
toward someplace higher.
(A Psalm of Expectation.)

Seeking deliverance,
Day and night I cry unto God
And would not be satisfied.
How long, O Lord,
Until my deliverance is come?

My heart securely
Trusts your word.
You are my salvation
And the anchor of my soul.

Protector from all harm,
And a refuge from the storm.
My battle-axe and shield
In the war of life.
Stronghold, high tower,
And a shield from strife.

O God my Strength,
My helper and guide—
The cleft of the rock
In which I can hide.
I will trust in you.
(A Psalm of Trust: patiently trusting despite adversity.)

My deliverance is in
The Lord's hands.
I wait for him in prayer
With meditation and praise.
The Lord will strengthen me
In trials.
He will not allow the enemy
To defeat me.
My God has placed a hedge
Of protection on every side.
Morning, noon and night,
He watches and no evil
Shall befall.
(A Song of Deliverance (September 8,1987) ,
*One of four pioneering psalms.)

I sought God in the night
When trouble stirred my soul.
And, oh, what a delight
To find comfort in his word.

He whispered to my ears
Sweet and glorious things,
And brought me from despair
On mighty-eagle wings.

He put a song in my heart
And dancing in my feet.
My night was turned to day
And my bitterness to sweet.

The Lord God of hosts—
Jehovah is his name.
Sovereign is his power,
Only he can do such things.
SelinaSharday Feb 2018
****** **** such a tragedy.
Between kin bloodlines abominations of unrighteous unity.
Speak loud and spare not, victims stop keeping it hidden.
A sin so scandalous so forbidden.
This secret is the reason for some insane things.
Punishment on our Nation it brings.
Stop the transgress it’s time to progress
to detest the ugliness of ******.
The sin of ****** put out from us such wickedness
Crimes within the family.
Outcry why oh God why.
Emotions cry spirits die.
Survival with scars somehow.
Child kept secrets at least for now.
Innocent sweet nectar just taken.
Abused shattered then forsaken.
Inwardly hating the humiliation.
Lingering curse.   Bound to be rehearsed.
A bloodline search, unthought-of   curse our generation.
How can we cleanse this crime  from our nation.
Child **** such outrage of wickedness.
Such a corruptible trespass.
Men lusting after little boys. Using them as ****** toys.
Outcry iniquity.  Loss of innocent purity.
Killers of purity, thieves,
bandits doings malicious things in secrecy.
Abused children in mind body and spirit.
Hear their voices silently cry who’s close enough to hear it.
Legal laws. Often with flaws
Putting children in harms way.
Hard to prove it allowing perpetrators often to stay.
Courts judicial systems poor outcome.
Criminals getting counseling with their worst still to be done
It’s a unhealed spiritual condition.
Warriors do our best to rid ourselves of this affliction.
Wrongful unthinkable vexation.
Impure affections of ****** connection.
Between the bloodlines.
Children with Children sexually learned crimes.
Scares of a lifetime.
People wake up let us not be blind.
I beg you I pray.
Let’s do more to protect our children in any way.
Outcry, need to protect our innocent ones. Prayers uplifted, rebuking the hidden crimes.
Antino Art Feb 2018
quest
odyssey
deliverance

doubt
no
fire

14, 21
exodus

my cup overflows

waters
rest.

keep walking

--
Mysidian Bard Dec 2017
Overhead the stars align
and dance in eyes that brightly shine,
anxious waiting parted lips
and eager aching fingertips.

Desperate waves eroding land
between the places where we stand,
shallow breaths that mirror tides
begin to swell and well inside.

Winds echo lost fairy tales,
a gentle breeze becomes a gale,
the final leaf clings to the tree
while our hearts long to be set free,

and every wall we've built around
will finally all come crashing down
as you and I are swept away
by a kiss that strikes the break of day.
Senor Negativo Mar 2017
I am a bug in a bathtub.
After trying to climb the wall
twenty times
and sliding back down
twenty times
I believe I am going to wait
for that mysterious hand
to reach down
and carry me to safety.
At least until I catch my breath
and have another crack
at climbing that wall.
I regularly rescue bugs from my bathtub. Today I actually fished a bug out of the toilet bowl, and sure enough it was alive. I carried it into the sanctuary of my church, and let it crawl from my finger onto a curtain. It sat next to me through the sermon. Two years ago I would have just flushed the toilet.
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