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God in the wind, the rain and snow,
God on high, and God below,
God with me, where'er I go,
God! God! God!

God in the cold, and God in the fire,
Burning away all base desire,
Setting all my soul afire,
God! God! God!
A chant inspired by a trip to a cave where St. Francis used to go to fast and pray until God spoke to him.
Copyright 2010 by Michael S. Simpson. All rights reserved by the author.
 May 2017 Lote Do
ThePoet
I'm running out of time
and the clock is ticking fast
But I'm trying to erase
all the damage in my past

I'm running out of time
and these minutes never last
But the darkness that I face
is the shadow that I cast

©
 May 2017 Lote Do
ThePoet
I have oceans of emotions
but my mind is numb
These shallow lines of confines
my words have become

I've been strong for so long
but it's made me weak
And these screams in my dreams
are the whispers I speak

©
 May 2017 Lote Do
ThePoet
They don't know how it feels

to awake every morning,
and all they can wonder is
why they had even awoken

They don't know how it feels

to pick up all of their pieces,
and put them back together
but still feel like they're broken

They don't know how it feels

to say all that they can say,
and still feel like there's more
but every word has been spoken

They don't know how it feels

to go to sleep every night,
and the only hope they have
is that their eyes will not open

©
 May 2017 Lote Do
anon
Depression
 May 2017 Lote Do
anon
There's something beautiful
about sadness
and how there are no words
for the depth that you feel.
I never knew emptiness was a feeling and that loving someone
could be so **** painful.
I used to cry at
scraped knees and broken toys
but now I cry at
bruised hearts and void souls.
How can I heal
when you were my only antidote
 May 2017 Lote Do
Jordan Harris
To put it quite simply; it hurts.
 May 2017 Lote Do
Kim
Remember that afternoon?
You were smoking your Winston and you told me that I have this weird type of charm.

And we're kinda sad because we have to hide our hands again the next day. We have to hide our photos,
we have to hide our words.

I remember you saying you'll commit when you're ready,
you just need time to figure things out.

I didn't question your reasons.
I didn't asked you why or how is that even possible if you love someone.

And the moment you left three years later, you said the exact same thing.

This town never changed since that afternoon.

But we did.
 May 2017 Lote Do
mark john junor
we are all searching for ourselves
in the desperate scribblings of our own pages
seeking the heights of beautiful light
in the darkest corners of night
terribly remembering
beautifully forgetting
we are all apologists begging for
scraps from a happy hearts table
our lives are lived from roadside signs
that proclaim our redemption is just around the bend
and some thief savior or ***** saint gonna
clasp us by the hand lead us to a promised land
seeking the heights of beautiful light
in the darkest corners of night
terribly remembering
beautifully forgetting
on our pages, we escape angrily  
on our pages, we are imprisoned willingly
taste that chain holding you down
french kiss the locks that hold you in place
write with a fever of words
that make your world dizzy with desire
write with the sweat of her ******* as your ink
write with the depth of his eyes as your page
the poem you carve out of your struggles
the poem you breathe into the winter night cold hard rain
is the poem you will be remembered for
is the one that you put your soul into
while you were seeking
while your heart was searching
in another life I was golden
in another life, you were made of sunshine
in another life, we were together
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