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as long as you are around
i would always remain a poet
my heart would always beat
keep my pen dancing
in this ballroom slate
of my brain

as long as you are around:
there would always still be words
metre, beat and rhyme;
there would still be songs
entitled to be sung just fine;

there would always
be raindrops kissing
this arid land;
and there would always still be
leaves falling for
this dreary
hopeless ground

but if perchance
you would be gone
these imperfect
fragments lost
in trance

my puzzled heart
would sooner die
missing your
unseen pieces
your saddest goodbyes
Bfspoemforme notmine mysweetestbf mypoet
Happy new year poets!
More books to read
More poems to write
More stories to pen.

Forget not to breathe
Burst out your feelings
Shed your tears through the ink
Hooray, rejoice in every words written.
Mortals as we are;
in quest of the Divine.

Oh, how our weary souls longeth for Thee!
How we yearn to be with Thine.
How we seeketh to understand Thy attributes,
That we may loveth you, Divine.

The world has naught in store for us
Wandering as foreigners we art,
Waiting for a sheer bliss of rest,
Until we reach the Promised Land.

In here we fret, suffer and toil,
Battling and struggling over lure
Nonetheless, we won’t surrender
As we remember our blessed hope.
He was joy.

He was not just a baby born on a manger
born of a ****** and a carpenter.

He was joy.

He left His throne
embrace the lowliest of the lowliest
celebrated by shepherds whose identities matter not.

He was joy.

The angels declared, He'll bring goodnews
of which people will be saved from generations to generations and they will be filled with joy.

He was joy.

And an army of Angels exclaimed, "Glory to the Highest!"

Oh, what a joy He hath bring
for He is the Lord and King
His birth, a joy to all
Forever, I'll indeed treasure!
the whisper of words
the groaning of tears
wailing of sighs
travailing of pains
can all be wrapped up in a six-letter word called
P R A Y E R.
it's not just a language uttered
language heard
and felt.
it's that sorrow within
longing unmet
pain screamed.
when all else fails
when no one listens
everything seems to fade
that's when you do this so often.
for you know,
someone hears and someone loves to hear.
So pray.
Pray often.
not just in your moments of weakness
but also in those moments of success.
P R A Y. #beholdheprays
  Dec 2017 Asyumerang Makata
There's this thing about worship
that I often forget.

You see it's not just this thing
that we do on Sunday.
It's every day;
Every breath and movement of our hands
is done because we understand
that God's grace is not a prize we won.

It was a selfless giving of His only son
that He gave to rend our chains undone
and bring us into relationship with Him
by the victory over sin that we proclaim He won!

Yet somehow life still becomes some kind of rat race
trying to appear holy and saving face
with no admittance that we still need grace
and our response to that grace just kind of...


And then I wonder why I don't see His face,
why I'm not moved by His Word
why I'm not changed by His grace.
I wonder why I don't want Him around,
while my wrists are secretly bound
with shackles I like too much to take off.

But on Sunday morning I pray to be free
to realize that this Jesus did die for me
so that I could be with Him where He is one day,
yet day to day, I almost never say

God, I need you, and I'm not okay.

And I know it doesn't have to be this way!
I know He gave His Spirit, He promised that He'd stay
With me until the end of the age
and even in my deepest darkness His love for me is still the same
But God, oh God, I'm so ashamed
of all the things I've done while periodically praising Your name.

But there is no condemnation from You, You say.
You invite me to turn and run away
Into your arms and that I'll be changed--
That You will give me a new heart
and remove all of this shame
If I'd just confess my sin to You, You'd take the pain.

So I beg, and beg, that every day
My response to You would be the same
To run to You and admit my need
For Your grace, for Your love
above everything.

That I'd never not be responding
with my life, my work, and all my talking
to the Christ that stepped into time
to make me His, and make Him mine.
Worship is more than just a song--it is a response to God and who He is, and what He has done.
  Dec 2017 Asyumerang Makata
When the storms rage in my head
When I'm drowning in my dread
When I'm living like I'm dead
There You are

When I have no hand to hold
When I've lost sight of control
When I can't be strong or bold
There You are

And even though I see no sign above
I'm asking You to give me strength to trust

God You say that You're good
but everything I know
seems so out of control
And I can't make sense
of where you are in all this mess
and all I feel is my distress

But you say You're here
Could I know You're here?

Lord, You set the stars at night
You command the sun to rise
And when I open up my eyes
There You are

Oh, You calm the wind and waves
raised a dead man from his grave
with an arm that's strong to save
There You are

And even though I see no sign above
I'm asking You to give me strength to trust

God You say that You're good
but everything I know
seems so out of control
And I can't make sense
of where you are in all this mess
and all I feel is my distress

But You say You're here
Could I know You're here?

Here I lift this knife
Poised to take this life
You say stay your hand
Oh please, stay your hand
There's a better way
I will take your place
And you'll never be alone again

God I know that You're good
Take everything I know under Your control
I don't have to make sense
of how You're using all this mess
with love eclipsing my distress

And You say You're here
And I know You're here
There is a more excellent way.
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