I never fulfilled his expectations. Nor his heart. I was never the one to be good enough. Still I'm holding on to faith hoping to soon meet his heart again. But deep inside I know now I was never what his heart needed. I know that know. But my heart tells me other wise.
Jesus ain't comin' back
Humanity has taken
Too deep of a fall.
The Church down the street
Still rings its bell,
But Jesus can't save us ALL
Faith is is a Virtue
We should all try to maintain,
If God is a gun-freak,
He must be insane
I once lived on a beautiful farm, sparkling with green life,
With family I dwelt, growing crops, and never was there strife,
But even with the gorgeous wildlife, lined with perfect flowers,
I sometimes thought beyond the borders there were secret powers,
So one fine day I left our home, travelling through unknown lands,
Through jungles bustling with new creatures, spectacular desert sands,
After walking many miles I came across a gnome,
Who promised me an astonishing gift that I could take back home,
I asked him what I could give in return; he asked me for my clothes,
And pointed out the quickest way back, a dark and desolate road,
The gift was packed inside a crate and loaded on a cart,
But there were no horses to pull it and it looked to be falling apart,
So I tied the ropes around my chest and pulled my gift with all my might,
Naked on the dark road I began to feel the fright,
I was sure the gift would be worth the many leagues that I had travelled,
But sweating, sunburnt, exhausted, I could feel myself unravel,
I got home to my family at last but their faces were concerned,
Naked, tired and hungry I revealed what I had earned,
The crate burst open with a BANG! The gift charged out with menaced eyes,
A horse as black as a the back of a cave, screaming strangled cries,
It’s eyes were dead,
It screamed and fled,
It trampled everything in sight,
Blocking out the sun’s own light,
My family’s house was trodden down,
And I stood watching like a clown,
All the crops were battered,
My precious flowers lay in tatters,
And it charged our homeland endlessly,
As powerful and stubborn as the sea,
And then it came straight for me so I turned around and fled,
But within a second I lay on the ground, hooves stamping on my head,
I often tried to hide by digging holes with hands and nails,
But it sought me out through day and night, leaving ghostly awful trails,
My family built a tunnel whilst I held my wounded head,
And I lived down there in terror seeing no bright lights ahead,
One day in despair as I lay underneath the Earth,
I watched a flower bloom as if the dirt was giving birth,
And somehow that simple, beautiful thing filled me with relief,
Because I remembered what I had forgotten; the power of belief,
And so I worked my mind out with imaginary weights,
Pulling together all my decent personality traits,
When I emerged from the tunnel which had been my home for years,
The Black Horse turned towards me but I pushed away my fears,
I vaulted out the ground, erupting, full of determination,
And when my enemy charged at me it’s red eyes were damnation,
I stood my ground surrounded by the power I had built,
It was almost upon me, head down, stampeding at full tilt,
I grabbed it’s mane and pulled myself upon it’s black behind,
I straddled it, it bucked around, but I paid it no mind,
Riding that Black Horse day and night I could feel my power growing,
And I thought of the crops for the first time in years and planned to get them sowing,
Tenaciously I stayed glued to that rampaging Beast,
And after a while I found that all of it’s stampeding had ceased,
The Horse’s coat was changing to a lighter shade of black,
My family filled in the tunnel with Earth and I knew I’d never go back,
The barren trees were growing again with glorious green leaves,
I owe that to my faith and to the power of belief,
Flash forward and I sit perched on a marvellous white Stallion,
And around my neck I wear a sparkling Jaguar medallion,
The crops are growing wonderfully - better than before,
My Horse is tremendous and proud; red-eyed and dangerous no more,
My family is still hungry although the crops are sprouting well,
And we do not have the money to replace our farmhouse which had fell,
In the chaos caused by my decision to try and get more than I had,
My curiosity had led to greed and had drove my psyche mad,
So I ride out on the road again and promise I’ll be back,
Owning this great beast I’ve tamed I drive her down the track,
We get to town, and I climb down and lead her to the stables,
Nostalgia running through me I’m not sure if I’m quite able,
‘She is a magnificent beast! I’ve never seen anything like her!’,
The stable-keeper says, his voice an awestruck little whisper,
I walk back home in golden light, not worried for the miles,
Find myself surrounded by a wolf-pack, their pointed teeth turned up in snarls,
My faith is strong, my mind is steel and I am going to win,
The wolves appear to sense this and they treat me like their kin,
I get back home; my loved ones say, ‘Hey, where is your beast?!’,
I smile at them and say, ‘It’s gone, now who fancies a feast?’
The gold I got for the Stallion is enough to fix the farm,
Looking at it now you’d never guess it had come to harm,
I lie in the field and feel the grass brushing gently against my arm,
Watching the birds cruise above me with their everlasting charm,
And now I never fear the dark, or creatures of the night,
As long as I stay in this lovely place, the Horses will always be white.
When the truth goes to church, it does nothing
more than pray. Truth prays for all humanity and
pleas to the heavens for her prayers to be heard.
No one has more faith in humans than Truth.
She kneels on the pew at the back of the temple,
knees hurting, arthritic and blistering, hot pain
on her feet, hands closed and folded, clasped tightly
together, grabbing strongly onto herself, as she has
nothing else to hold on to. Truth has a lot to say, but
no one wants to hear her confession. Truth has
no mortal sins in her confessionary repertoire.
Truth doesn’t even have pride or shame. Truth
fears no angels nor demons; she knows them all
by name. Truth has no Ten Commandments or
Seven Sacraments to follow. At church, Truth
can’t talk too loud; Truth has to whisper, or else
she will be shushed and shunned. As the Priest goes
on and on about lies people believe, Truth can’t help it
hear other people’s prayers and confessions, can’t help
but notice how everyone is ashamed of their own truths.
Truth humbles herself before God, prays for forgiveness,
for hurting those who’d rather be conforted by lies
and fooled by illusion. But Truth can admit it, that she
has no power in the mortal realm, that she is not and will
never be popular. She is nothing but an outsider that can only
be understood by the dead and her true form can only
be seen by those in the spirit world. Truth won’t go to
Heaven or Hell when she dies, but she knows she will die
alone –not in the Darkness, but in the Light. And for all
the times Truth prayed, she only got silence as an answer,
in return (as if it was God’s own divine mockery of peace);
and of all the things Truth could’ve prayed for, she never
prayed for salvation or redemption. Truth never prayed
to be beautiful (as her only sin on this Earth was that she
was not pretty; she was too ugly to be liked or loved).
Truth has no friends or family to bid her farewell.
And to add salt to her wound, Truth will die a Saint
that will never be beatified by those that preach her
words, or by those who praise and worship her. Truth
just asks one thing of God: to be delivered from Evil,
to get at least one sad, minuscule, insignificant
little miracle. But Truth will never realize that she
is the miracle, a candle that can't be held by humans
for too long, that'll burn bright in immortal hands
for all eternity, a flame that nobody can ever extinguish
and that no wild wind can ever tame. And when Truth
burns, it burns until it consumes everything in its
path, like an alchemist's fire, ‘til only ashes remain.
As I think about you,
my mind goes blank,
my breathe goes sharp
my head goes drunk.
It is a feeling of ecstasy.
rushing around my veins
loosing all my chains
like a butterfly flying all day.
All I know is that
we have the same feelings
But, like an unchained melody
everything might be inside my head.
keeping all the dusts and trust.
twirling beneath rusts.
Oh and I think.
I like you so bad.
dare you, dare you, dare myself
showed the rushing beast all over my body
and I will love you
look at you, look at you, look at me
kissed every imperfect-fractured pieces of you
and I love you more
find you, find you, find myself
exchanged the grey with my twinkling rhythm
and I still love you
Lord it's when we reach rock bottom
That we fear we need you the most.
But why don't we care about you
When every thing is going plain sailing.
It feels like we are selfish
and only cling to you when it suits yourself
Forgive us Lord .
For our selfish ways
Teach us to follow you daily.
and find a moment with you.
That day, woke up, stood, stumbled,
There was blood
This day, took a trip, the rain came,
Stuck in mud
A day in March, bank man came,
Took my home
A day in April, bad hair day,
Lost my comb
I drank too much, on day in May
The next day,
paid the price
Was in the dark, on day in June,
Not so nice
A year from hell? I guess,
... But not
The Lessons learned, learned well
Have not forgot
I swore off religion
god is dead and we have killed him.
and he remains dead
but then there is you, and you are so very alive.
I said I would never worship in a church anymore
men are liars, and they do not speak for deity
You are the only force
and I have given you the best and worst and whole of me
and there is nothing of my soul that belongs to any savior
I don't need a sacrifice
But I hope you control me for this life
and if there's some second chance, I want it to be with you
because not touching you every second is hell already
and you are enough heaven for me.
Gold streets are extravagant.
I want to lie in satin sheets.
and may the darkness stay forever
I want my hands on every part of you with no light in the way.
And if hell is fire, so is my heart
and I think mine is darker and hotter and more desperate every second
Than all the fires below.
No matter how many Hail Mary's I repeat
I do not repent.
Love cannot be wrong, by definition it is everything pure and holy
and the truth of my soul is more than a thousand candles lit for the saints or ten million days of prayer
for my heart is yours, and there is no me or I anymore
I no longer am selfish, I am only for you.
Don't absolve me.
I am not confessing, I am declaring.
I am picking the one deity I feel right in worshiping.
So create an alter on my bed
for until such a time as heaven speaks
I will hold your body close to mine
And in my own religion I will find my peace.