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Desmond Baker Sep 19
Flooded by eyes of sky blue

Drowning in pleasure don’t attempt to rescue

Drenched by a tempestuous soul

I look for the sun to dry me quickly

But their beacon eyes close

Filling this space now a choking hue

Immortal gloom  

Thunder enables the clouds to release a flood

Drowning in sorrow

Those who were there to rescue have taken shelter

But only one promised to never forsake me

Faithful as he was before

Just as in the days of old

The same yesterday, today, and forevermore
Candle, candle, where you breathe,                                  
may this light of yours succeed.
Candle, candle, bright and pure,                                      
from the flames of hell return.
Candle, candle, where you breathe,                                  
may this flame of yours succeed,
Candle, candle, wise and strong,                                    
bring forth your heavenly perfumes,
cease the wars, cease the injustice,
vanish at once the filth of sinners.
Candle, candle, where you are,                                        
bring forth your light, let it increase.
Candle, candle, bright and strong,                                  
from the depths of hell return,
place the jewels of Heaven on the mouths of all sinners.
Candle, candle, deep allure,                                                  
may the flames of hell adorn,                                            
with the light of Heaven glows,                                        
with the piercing brightness flow.
Megan Hammer Aug 5
In the valley of darkness, I shall not want
Though a hole resides where the heartbeat should be
The vessels still do their work

My lungs decay, black and smoked out
And my organs dry up from strong rums
And the things I hold dear become a desert storm

But I shall not ask for the help of dying trees
Whose fruit, though ripe, would leave me with less leaves
Or perhaps with more than I could bear

No, I stand on the mountains
The mountains we lived in, where the church sits upon the hill
I stand on the mountains and call for him

I call for him
and I know - without science or senses -
That he is near
Plays on Psalm 23
I contemplated for minutes,
wondering if the calling was
for letters to, or
letters of.

therefore arriving,
at the true conclusion,
that these experiences
dwell in the realm 'of'

'to', grants the recipients
attention, and fingers their
pool of uncertain interests,
and builds their vanity.

my story about love . .
is a deep fable,
a seemingly infinite path,
by waterfalls and erupting volcanoes.

the wind that came to fix,
the fragments of aqua.
shared the graces on my skin,
and satisfied me for a little.

then, uncertainty of the erupting tip,
makes the path unbalanced.
as treading near the base of its grip,
being burned of heated fragments

I could not go into the water in full,
as it would have drowned me.
and should I find the volcano awakened,
the end's good was unlikely.

I've had women,
charm like water fall drops,
for the same drop to be quenched
by their own eruptions.

I loved, as their love was never certain.
I did, and took the blows of unsatisfied women.
I cried, and wondered why I ever cried at all.
I shared, and was brought in the end, their true self.

The self, that exposes its reality,
when the damage is done.
The self, that gives,
so it can be given more.

I went only into 'her' knowing
the motion of a flutes wind,
the orchestras soft vocals,
and the beating drum.

satisfied her by the trinity.
in an art physically, mentally, and emotionally.
I opened her sacred door and entered in,
as she 'helled' my precious neck as I was within.

her morning's worry,
came before mine.
her lacking seeds,
I planted with love in a small garden.

the growth of a fruit bearing tree,
never came to display,
and what I sought to water in the garden,
she choice to wither away.

I've had women,
claim love on the first day.
I've had women,
take the pain from my heart  . .

and cast it to the brain,
cast it to the health,
cast it to the self,
the esteem, the confidence . .

or the bridge
that connected me to my wealth,
or the fountain,
where there, lied gratifying joy.

played, like with a toy,
and refusing the toy's story.
because I wanted my own,
I wanted the truth.

and the truth will always reveal itself.

of all that could have been,
the joy to have been at all is enough.
what could have been of all,
is much too tough to consider.

the toughness that drills into a soul,
sending them to the gate as
a ghost with a hole.
and what soul of this kind can proceed further?

and for what?
of what could have been?
if you could..
you would have been . . . .

on that path, it seemed infinite.
but evidence suggests nothing is forever.
infinite is the feeling of always,
infinite is the hopelessness, lack of belief in an end.

in that garden, eventually the tree will grow,
and the fruits will be born.
but for the one for which it was planted for,
there is no hope to reap.

and for the one who accepts the fruit,
it would have been so because
they HAVE been, when it was time to grow,
and when it was time to hold.

and from the tree that bore the fruit,
one leaf was taken, and a psalm written.
existing as a letter of what could have been,
to every woman that couldn't.
Corey Mar 24

At night, my gaze is lifted to your grace.
I sink into my skin, relaxed upon the knowledge
that you are constant.  
Your quiet luminescence lights my way.
Your still movements sway in me,
like the ocean tides to your will.

And yet, when I fall I am not broken.
In me you will always stay.
And when I speak to you I have not spoken,
you know what I had meant to say.

At night, my gaze is lifted to your grace;
it holds me in its embrace.


For the nights that you've abandoned me,
I ask that you see my growing frustration.
My body becomes filled with a rage
that's fueled by an unhealthy obsession.

For in those nights I am weak, brittle;
feeling as if I've lost my balance.
In those nights I am broken, hurting;
on my knees sobbing in your absence.

And in those nights I search for you,
that you'll let your light seep in
But you show me that you never left,
I just chose not to see where you'd been.


You return like eyes opening;
the darkness parting to your beauty.

I'm reminded how well you know me
and that you always knew me.
You knew me when I was at my best,
and when I'd fallen to my worst.
You showed me there's safety in stars
and picked me up when my body was hurt.

I am thankful for your constant grace,
your willingness to effortlessly forgive;
your careful happiness that shines through me
and will continue to shine as long as I live.
Dani Oct 2018
"A Psalm of Life" by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882)
What the heart of the young man said to the Psalmist

Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.

Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each tomorrow
Find us farther than today.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world’s broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!APsalmof_Life

Trust no Future, howe’er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act,—act in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o’erhead!

Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time;—

Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o’er life’s solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.
This spoke to me so much so, that I had to bring it here for others.
Lord we have two choices,
judge us not too harshly if we settle for grey,
sometimes a white lie
can save an amanda of fools.
Seanathon Jun 2018
For months a struggle in vain I've been. Deliver me now my Lord.

Allow me to see for a moment beyond what this human heart thinks it adores.

Because I do not wish to continue like this, give me strength now to close this old creaking door.

Would you allow me to be, in my present need, at peace with this anxiousness, and within me no more?
Letting go of what I want. Opening my eyes to what he wants for me.
ShowYouLove Mar 2018
Lord in your goodness hear and answer me
My enemies surround me they plot my demise
With wicked words they seek to trap me
Day and night they scheme with evil in their hearts
I fear for my life my safety Oh Lord my God
Lord in your goodness hear and answer me

They lie in the shadows watching and waiting
Waiting for a moment of weakness to pounce
But you my God are my protector in trouble
You are my shield and my strength
Lord in your goodness hear and answer me

I cry out to you come save me from these wolves
Hear my pleas Oh Lord and save me in my distress
Deliver me from my foes and by your right hand guard me
I trust in you God come swiftly to my aid
Lord in your goodness hear and answer me
A Prayer of Trust and rescue from danger
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