"baptize" poems
***Night came and conquered my ceiling
Head tilted back to inherit it's familiar splendour.
But she isn't there... Left my heart slightly gaping.
O twinkly one, have you seen her?***
*She's mysteriously veiled tonight,
Playfully on her halo, dances gentle light.
Don't give up on her, listless moongazer,
She wants to be conquered, put up a good fight.*
***Persistent skirmish that sets dreams and reality apart,
Eyes don't see what the heart knows so clear,
Clarity eludes when forgotten scars start to smart,
Do you know if she even realises I'm here?***
*She knows, and dreams of your happy eyes,
That only her will hold on their feverish gaze.
Unbroken threads of hope, your yearning to baptize
And her ice cold craters to be set ablaze.*
***Fire in my vessel still burns bright and strong,
Never extinguished behind the facade of my weary husk,
My flame would endure just as the wick is long,
Tell me dear star, will I see her next dusk?***
*When the sun's swords will seize,
slashing the sky in dazzling blue,
When the air will bring a comforting ease,
Her glistening "yes" will welcome you.*
***Your comforting words ring only of truth,
Winking in codes, you might be right .
Darkness had claimed and engulfed all proof,
Will you accompany me through tonight?***
*This piercing question you don't have to ask me,
For even though my light's billion of years away,
Twinkling in your dreams I'll always be,
The night companion, under your moon's ray.*
ryn
Dajena M
Mar 1, 2015
Mar 1, 2015 at 10:29 AM UTC
emotion
canoodles
with
thought
begetting
words
frivolous
and
impermanent
until
i
baptize
them in
ink
and
then send
them away
to
be
fostered and fed
by
those
kindhearted souls
who
read and wish
them
to have a
chance
to
succeed
in
the hard hearted world
into
which
poetry bleeds
Oct 3, 2014
Oct 3, 2014 at 12:35 AM UTC
Long winding
Lost roads
Dead dog
Or maybe mountain lion
**** roadkill)
Car stopped in the middle of the road
Woman drove off the side of the road
(with the ******* pigs)
Gas station stops
No service area
Keeping me on long winding lost roads!
Now there
Misty fog
Hot steam
As I baptize with bubbles
In this hot tub at Grand Haven
A locked cabin
Enjoyed for a time by myself
Alone.
Oct 18, 2016
Oct 18, 2016 at 3:02 PM UTC
Leo: Remember everyone is fighting. Be patient, forgive, but never allow yourself to be a doormat to those who care less about you than you do them. Forget the wrath. Find the joy in the power it brings you.
Virgo: Do not stunt your growth trying to entertain the opinions of other people. You know in the end, you have to be the most important person in your life. Grow.
Libra: Quit running. You will never find yourself in other people, so stop trying. Desperation does not look good around your neck. Hold your chin high and look inside yourself for what you need.
Scorpio: Go. Stop leaving claw marks in your wake. Know that what you think you need is not always so. You are worth more than what you have been selling yourself for. Pride is important to you, but it is still okay to cry if you need to. Say goodbye to what is less than you.
Sagittarius: It is okay to say no. Don’t apologize anymore for having an opinion. Speak your mind, let yourself be heard. Do not quiet your desires for someone else’s.
Capricorn: The past doesn’t matter anymore. Close the book, shut the door. Stop searching for answers and know that it all happened for a reason. It will make sense soon if you let it.
Aquarius: Do not make friends with your demons. Clean the skeletons from your closet. Take a long walk tonight and allow yourself to feel the weight of sadness like a moth eaten sweater. Fold it up in the morning and put it in a box. Throw it away.
Pisces: Stop being selfish and cruel. Put the bourbon away, put your phone away for the night. Sleep by yourself and see what you dream of. People are not trying to ruin you like you are them. Forget revenge.
Aries: Let go. Do not cling to what you think is saving you. Do not drink tonight, do not tell them you love them again if you do not mean it. Be careful to not push away the people who truly care for the one who doesn’t.
Taurus: It is time to stop caving in on yourself. Reach out to someone, stop to smell the flowers. Find beauty in this world again.
Gemini: You’re almost done hurting. I know your mother told you the storm never lasts forever and you doubted her. Let the rain leave you now. It is okay to not define yourself by your sadness.
Cancer: Let the things and people you are bitter about leave you. Do not let memories haunt you any longer. Wash them off in the river while it’s still warm. Baptize yourself.
Aug 12, 2015
Aug 12, 2015 at 8:18 PM UTC
Will a Phoenix doused in water reignite?
Should the Sun ever disturb the night?
As my eyes take their rest my mind takes flight
Then quickly plummets straight into blight
Straight into sorrow; reigniting my rage
And keeps me awake as if it were day
Awake to write my story/Awake to dwell on the last page
How dare I wallow over someone engaged?
Great Leviathan, Demon God of water and life
Lend me your strength as I overcome this strife
Baptize me in your waters and revitalize my sight
Clear away all the salt and callus to turn my scleras white
Drown the anger in my heart; cease its return!
**** the Phoenix, for its presence burns!
Drown the Sun so that the moon may take its turn
Allow my brain to rest so that I may have the capacity learn
How to fully move on…
Apr 4, 2017
Apr 4, 2017 at 1:19 PM UTC
ೋღ❤ღೋೋღ❤ღೋ
*Walking down a wooded path
tall flowing trees all around,
I came upon the river’s edge
and sat down on the ground.
Sitting at the edge of the river
I stare at its ongoing flow,
I start to give it all my pain
a release with each little throw.
My hardest pain is fear
that I’ve had from so long ago,
of never feeling good enough
that’s dulled my inner glow.
It eats at me like a cancer
each and every day,
the fear of never being good enough
and again being thrown away.
Years of disappointment and abuse
only being property, nothing to love,
but always trying to make things right
so everyone else could rise above.
I throw this fear out into the river
sit back and watch it pass slowly by,
I wrap my arms around myself
feel the release, let myself cry.
I throw out all the other pains
betrayal, heartache, loneliness and more,
I watch them drift gently way
these last tears will be left on this river shore.
Noticing as each and every pain
slowly floats down the river away,
I observe at a distance
as they fade into the suns sparkling rays.
Walking down a wooded path
tall flowing trees all around,
I came upon the river’s edge
and was surprised at what I found.*
***And ever onward shall we strive
and from the circle peace derive.
The sea in robes of mossy green
and blues the eye has never seen...
In grays that mock the stormy sky
and depths that hold the tears gone by....***
*A sweet release we give our heart
from pain of past that tore apart,
relief that only one can find
when hearts we let, become unconfined,
to leave behind those stormy skies
letting self-love baptize…*
***A tide of tears resides within
and waits to overflow.
i greet with a smiling face
so others will not know.
How feeble is this masquerade.
Transparent are the games.
Emotions should be given room
without the chides and blames.
The time will come to open up
and let the dam release...
my will, the pressure stop.
my soul will be at peace.
Weep when grief prescribes.
Laugh for humor's sake.
Love with everything you have
and forgive, all your mistakes.***
ೋღ❤ღೋೋღ❤ღೋ
Mar 22, 2018
Mar 22, 2018 at 8:45 PM UTC
Before everything
i. I never knew four letters could melt
menthol candy-like, hydrochloric acid on my tongue
and keep burning it in different degrees
I had to swallow back.
ii. That there would come a time
I'd have to baptize the pain in my chest like seasons
robbing me lungfuls
on January, September and December nights.
iii. That my blood was really ink I needed to stop using
before my skin turned paper-like.
iv. That my heart had an epicenter pumping a magnitude of earthquakes
that made me tremble helplessly in its intensity;
and that they were man-made calamities
followed by harsh, heavy, whipping tsunamis
to flood my grave of bleeding, jagged fault lines.
v. That aftereffects lasted longer than treatment itself,
and that I didn't need any professional diagnosis to know
I was terminal
from the same drug that made butterfly-strokes in my veins,
whose arms withheld the only elixir to this malady.
vi. I named my sickness, my pain, my agony like orphaned children, after you--
a rare disease
the doctors didn't even know about yet.
vii. I did and I doubted
but a part of me beat signals
that echoed off the cave walls of my skull
that I knew.
viii. Before everything,
I have been warned
but I chose to listen to the soothing, wrong, hopeful voices
"He means no harm,".
ix. You began spreading like an epidemic-- a tumor to a colony of cells all over me-- until I became you;
a reflection of familiar suffering and mortality, slowly withering away.
In the end, I didn't even have you to blame
for letting me overdose from intakes
of my own **** bitter medicine and unforgivable mistakes.
x. I guess, this was how you wanted the price to be paid.
Feb 18, 2017
Feb 18, 2017 at 6:24 AM UTC
If I am to dig graves for the rest of my life
I wish to do it with my hair long and proud,
Swinging at the small of my back as a testament of
Will in the face of adversity,
Grown by the fruits of my labor.
I want to harvest the nectar
From the pear tree on my horizon
And when I eat my fill,
I will just as easily leave the sweetness behind,
Before it spoils and then,
I will look the hurricane in the eye and laugh,
Because I know it will baptize the earth
And my pear tree will be waiting for the day
This nomad returns to her roots.
If I am to choose between
A false lover and Uncertainty in the North
I want to have the gall to say,
“Brother, come at eight.”
I want to have the self-control
To lower the gun on a man,
Whose mind is a dank closet full of spiders.
By then, I must be ready to venture out,
And risk this Uncertainty in the North.
If I am to take my revenge,
I wish to do so without collateral damage,
And if I do,
I want everyone to learn that revenge
Will stab you with your own rapier
And that I am the kind of person,
Who will make you drink your own wine,
Because, in the end,
We are all sinners.
If I am to write propaganda to support
A nauseating turn of society,
I would rather be exiled.
Iceland, Siberia, The Ministry of Love:
They are all the same,
Because I will come out a different person
For better or for worse.
I wish to have the strength to cut my hair
Because I will not hesitate
To cut ties with anyone,
Who stands in the way of my passion.
I must be unorthodox
If I see my fellow men
Following in each other’s footsteps, with their eyes closed.
I will scream it in the streets,
“The world is not pretty.”
If I am to be unorthodox,
I wish to have faith,
Strong enough not to be undone by mere chance,
Strong enough so I can watch the coin fall:
Heads.
Heads.
Heads.
Accepting that I will one day die.
And if it involves a ship,
I will be its captain.
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 5:59 PM UTC
I will write myself to sleep.
I will write long, pathetic
poems instead of texts to my
ex. I will write
the novel of my life
instead of asking you
for attention.
I will write
the new bible
on isolation, chronological
volumes
on loneliness.
I will write ten million
haikus before I write
you again.
I will write love letters
to myself until my fingers
bleed, until I
believe them.
I will write the handbook
on neglect, the idiots guide
to dealing with it.
I will write vague
fortune cookies about
self-acceptance and
self-forgiveness.
By the time I'm finished,
I will have exhausted
my depression.
I will write Shakespearean
prose about this
rejection.
I will write suicide notes
on my shield and armor for
protection and I will
save myself with them.
I will write angry, violent speeches
to rally the voices
in my head.
I will write a pledge of allegiance
to myself and recite it daily,
after coffee.
I will pray to the Gods of
"move on," and "get over it."
I will baptize myself
in holy water
that makes me
stop caring
completely.
Holy water, oh well, whatever
move on. Hallelujah.
I will write the ten commandments
on how to be
abandoned.
Dec 15, 2013
Dec 15, 2013 at 3:10 AM UTC
I have voices in my head.
sometimes they are mine and sometimes they are that girl walking down the street without a hat or a home address and I know this because I know things without knowing them.
there is hurt here, in this car full of silver and new and no smoking or I'll rip your fingers off.
my mother knows how to say amen like she's still dedicated to the Catholic Church I tell her, you should have given that up the day they refused to baptize me.
everyone sees dark in me where there is none.
I was a baby and I was a baby and I'm still a baby, or I wish I was.
I'm a baby who cries and says good morning every day even if it's not.
I say good morning when I wake up after missing dinner
I refuse to touch China now
my hands don't listen to the voices in my head all they think is break break break and the break break break sounds itself like cracking open and I need to lobotomize the dishes in here before she gets sentimental about handing them down to me when I finally find someone who isn't scared of waking up beside me to find my throat slashed
here it is. truth, because there is no right or wrong there is truth.
and truth sets you free.
it sets you free and it has you without a hat or a home address and you still wonder why nobody sends you letters back.
you say they forget your name. Or your middle name but it doesn't matter.
I only answer to "baby girl, do you want me to call the doctor for you?"
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 9:17 PM UTC
Those sometimes
those moments of time….
I’ve Had My Times.
I’ve had my times….
times of feeling loss, pain, hurt
times of wanting to run, to leave
to go far away where nobody knows me…
there was a time when i was carefree, loving life
and in one moment,
in one little moment, it was gone.
i’ve been beaten down, i’ve had my innocents ripped away
[fifteen-year abusive marriage] ***** at sixteen]
i’ve cried a river or maybe it’s been an ocean of tears….
[pain consumed my life for many years]
i’ve felt the hand of death too many times
my soul has bled, my heart….. has known much pain
i’ve looked through windows of dark blue
seen streaks of red…
pondered black holes…
have had days of staying in bed…
sometimes i’ve wanted the world to just go
leave me behind
let me be, let me die….
BUT……
I’ve had those moments of time when….
i’ve held new life in my hands
heard the beauty of a newborns cry
i’ve seen the beauty of an ocean sunset
gazed wondrously at sea spirits’ dancing on the water
i’ve breathed deeply in the fresh mountain air
felt the softness of a breeze
like gentle fingers moving through my hair
i’ve seen the old find new love
an amazing magical sight to see…
i’ve watched my children build beautiful lives
not always perfect but, full of hopes and dreams.
i’ve learned to give through my pain
i’ve seen and felt passion
i’ve walked through fire
and found true beauty on the other side.
i look for beauty every day, even when it’s hard to do
i let love flow to every part me
giving the best to you.
i let it consume me because falling into the depths
of the demons of my past, would destroy
that part of my soul i have fought so hard to get back
to keep, so i let love, passion, and beauty consume me.
And I Forever Will…..
~
A sweet release we give our heart
from pain of past that tore apart,
relief that only one can find
when hearts we let, become unconfined
to leave behind those stormy skies
letting self-love baptize…
~
May 20, 2018
May 20, 2018 at 12:33 PM UTC
& i can fix
a million things
[and your heart is one of them]
i can make you tea
make you breakfast
brush your hair
kiss your forehead
& tell you it’s all going to be
o
k
i can wrap my arms and legs around you
and crush you with empathy
let my tears drip down your forehead like anointing oil
or holy water
i can baptize you in a hundred things, i can burn you and
create anew from the ashes in my arms
i can let you fill my bones with your tears
my heart with your heartbreaks
my lungs with your sobs
my insides with your hurt
i can make you a thousand salves
and a hundred tinctures to keep you from hurting
but i can’t fix myself.
Nov 14, 2012
Nov 14, 2012 at 2:53 PM UTC
i disembody you in poetry:
thin scabs film over your bones,
i pick them until i find new skin to lay my kisses on —
a new land to baptize
with my own heathen hands,
i disembody you with them:
chest spread open like that of a dressed foul.
my body is too corrupted but it knows of intense longing,
piercing live-coal eyes, it burns
my neck like a crucifix,
like flames on a burning metal —
it heals, almost cleanses like holy fire
and with new bones,
i disembody you in poetry:
an attempt to see you, hold you, love you whole
without it consuming me:
a sight of pink lips, pink tongue,
pink columbines on your wrist;
i take apart your entirety,
press it, piece by piece on my fragile nail bed — hidden away
somewhere the world loses its sight.
and maybe now after all the cycles, it is the world's turn
to fumble far and wide, to despair in search for your hands —
your eyes
that unsettle and leave the cosmos
collapsing majestically
in its own harshest daylight
leaving us all disembodied
in blinding, vivid, solar colors.
forgive my compulsions to love you like this.
Feb 6, 2022
Feb 6, 2022 at 12:15 AM UTC
This country was founded on the idea of being who you are in liberty, yet there are people stuck in closets because the monsters are on the other side and the darkness has become too comforting at this point. The face of death has become too beautiful to want to turn away. We are hidden, dancing around the idea of being hung as perfectly as that shirt that was “too gay”. We are wondering how to propose to the Grim Reaper because at this point, he is the only man who can “make us straight”, at least in my case. Others would give him a blow in exchange for their soul. The asexuals, though, are finding the words to ask death out on a coffee date. We’re all just thinking and wishing. We’re rolling out our blueprints and studying the structure of surviving instead of accepting that we’re different and actually living. The pride that used to live in us died a long time ago. Maybe around the same time we were in the closets writing our suicide notes. For me it was the day my mother said the idea of me having lesbian friends gave her headaches. Let me not even get into how high her blood pressure would rise if I told her she had a pansexual daughter. “Had”. Now I am but a corpse living among the resurrected by Christ and I constantly ask myself when God is going to baptize me. I ask myself when I am going to stop looking like a zombie from the Walking Dead because, ******* it, I never learned the script or signed up for any of this. I never even wanted to be an actress. I wanted to be a singer. I wanted to sing the songs of my love for her and let the paparazzi spread rumors of how I cheated because I’m that ******* hot. Mother, I wanted to be a singer, but you ripped my tonsils out and told me to smile for the camera and look pretty. But mother, have you ever thought of something? What if she’s the only one I want to look pretty for?
Jun 22, 2016
Jun 22, 2016 at 12:20 AM UTC
feel the muscles tensing there
softly hear my praises sing
raise my pulse, and pull my hair--
my body is a loving thing.
touch my neck: its hairs will raise
feel my goosebumps spread;
if your lips on mine should graze
i shall never join the dead.
but to you i'm only skin
and all my tears are not enough
to baptize me from how you've sinned
and how you took advantage, love.
Oct 17, 2017
Oct 17, 2017 at 7:31 AM UTC
I have a habit
of hypnotizing myself
I like to put on my veil
a shroud of alteration
marry myself to the haze
again & again
I baptize everyday before I
light the world on fire
lose myself in the afterglow
live in the confusion
I love the girl who is
the sister of Leila, Ophelia, Astrid
o, Sweet Mother Mary
pray for me, stuck in melancholy
& losing ground
unity in Heaven's Rose
you are euphoria
mostly because I have
arranged my wills
to center & propel
those wills of yours
think for me
show me I can't live without you
can't
do for myself what you do for me
let's swim in the river
where I forget everything for a little while
enrapture me
all day every day all ways
May 29, 2013
May 29, 2013 at 4:57 PM UTC
If god were real
When he’d appear
It would be out of nowhere
In mysterious ways
God would be dressed as a clown
His front top teeth are missing
And he slurs like a drunk
Sometimes you can’t understand him
He does this on purpose
God was never cryptic
He just had trouble enunciating
DON’T BE MEAN TO PEOPLE
JESUS CHRIST
You have trouble looking at his face
It is hard to take the message of a clown seriously
So you look down at the globes of the tip of his shoes
Red shiny bulbs
Inside the reflection
You are ant sized
You feel small in that moment
God says something but you are busy looking down
You see other ant sized people walking behind you
Towards work
To get food
To go to school
God makes you a halo
Out of balloons
It is white because he ran out of yellow
Before he puts it on your head
Turned sideways
It looks like dangling handcuffs
He makes you a sword and belt too
You have just been turned into an angel
A human angel armed with the necessary tools to fight on his behalf
You don’t feel strong in that moment
You still feel like an ant
God gives you a holy water balloon
Just in case things get hairy
You decide you might be able to surprise baptize someone with it
Then god walks a way
But you totally feel better because he just gave you a halo and a sword
You cry that night
Because you have never felt so small and helpless in your entire life
You never felt so silly
Wielding you faith as firm as a balloon sword
Wearing your blow up halo as a badge
So you throw them away
Not your faith
Just the balloons
DON’T HURT ANYBODY
God says
His tongue pressed to his gums to prevent lisps
Then he begins to pump up another balloon
He honks his horn
And you are so confused
May 18, 2014
May 18, 2014 at 4:35 PM UTC
Turn the lights off so that I may know you
In this safe space, I invite you to indulge in our mutual vulnerability
Feel protection in my arms as I guard your heart
As I keep it warm between our chests
Set your gaze to mine while you share with me your aspirations
I yearn to experience them through the windows to your soul
Share with me your fears so that I may put them to rest
May this bed be a holy and sacred place for us
May this bed be our confession booth free from ridicule
May this bed be a tithing basket for you to receive love with no boundaries
In this bed, allow divine pleasure to overwhelm you
Let your ****** match the depth of your trust
Let your tears turn to sweat that trickles down the valley of your spine
Let your ****** fluids baptize you; cleanse you of any guilt
Share with me your spiritual awakening
As I receive communion with your raw, unfiltered, liquified emotion running down your body
Toss out your bible, for the only religious text I need is your diary
Allow me to tie every inch of your glorious body to a memory
I wish not to **** but to love
I wish to fulfill all your fetishistic urges
For I know they are tied to a psychological yearning
By the end of the night I wish to know every inch of your flesh
I want the knowledge to be accompanied by the memories that make you, you
And if I fail, there's always round two after we cuddle
Tyler Castro
3/19/17
Mar 20, 2017
Mar 20, 2017 at 2:11 AM UTC
on the last night
of the june breeze
that i spent tucked
between your hips
and my home
i heard
almost as faint
as a wing flutter
your tongue unfurled
the sounds of your streets
against my ear.
pavement hard but
sweet as a plum liquor
spelled out avenues that
have become rose pastures.
hoods that have
grown thick in themselves
with petals stained
of red rich violence
cross brown bones
but those bullets
bear no color.
taxi swift
yet city street thick
buzzing the sounds
of a place with half
the people
yet twice the traffic.
the kind of
tuesday twelve fifteen traffic
that i never understood
but you made action
where you lost sense.
dropped clips into the alleys
where the cops
wouldn't go
and pierced a limb
or two on the way.
cheeks filled with
with sticky bliss
bashed the demure
of downtown
cause the magnificent mile
ain't got ish
to the brick backbones
of them cook county temples
tourist tend to
trip past.
on my last night
here with you
i want to do
nothing more than wash
the windy city out of me
before state lines
baptize my view
of your anatomy.
pipe my gums
with this Crest
and brush your
taste out of me.
see big cities
have stained my tongue before.
new york is still in there
and i ain't even been there
in years.
i've caught tears
streamlining down
the crest of my cheek
at the taste
of chips of bay ridge
in my teeth.
so why don't
you just get lost?
the lingering lisp of your
shoreline sure does
last a tad
past welcomed.
matter of fact,
a tad past passed
two ticks before
your beach sands
sank my hips.
your lips have learned
too well
the outline of
my spine poured
against your banks boy.
so no thanks boy.
i don't want your tee shirt.
i don't need your silhouette
sketched in my memory
let alone my key chain.
and you keep saying
i'll be back
but i'll believe that
when i'm 30,000 ft up
straddling your boarder
by boeing.
Sep 6, 2012
Sep 6, 2012 at 10:39 PM UTC
I can tell I'm depressed
When I don't take the laundry
Out of the washer,
Where it has been cleansed of its sins
Of passion, or rage, of greasy fast food.
My filthy hands would ruin them.
So I wait for my roommate
To baptize his own spotless hands
With MY damp boxers.
The habitual thuds of my soggy clothes
Against the back of the dryer
Are a nice distraction.
My favorite flannel dances
With her tiny lost sock.
But 45 minutes isn't enough.
I don't want to end their fun,
So I leave them there
And hope that they'll fuse forever.
He tosses the clothes onto my floor,
Scattering them, wrinkling them, freeing them.
Corduroys atop henleys under crew socks and tees.
Folding them would be a waste
Of a catastrophic masterpiece.
Nov 15, 2015
Nov 15, 2015 at 11:25 PM UTC
What once was fire in your eyes,
is smoldering,
about to die.
What once was fire in your veins,
is spilling out,
it slowly wanes.
Lost in a fog,
Drained of your blood,
Spine feeling soft,
Face in the mud.
Now fan the embers in your eyes,
consume what's left,
by fire baptize.
Sep 9, 2019
Sep 9, 2019 at 6:42 PM UTC
I drove 150 miles round trip
To hear a friend preach
And see him baptize an infant
This morning.
My friend preached on the Father's love
For the prodigal son...
Said, "The father loves those outside the fold
Every bit as much as those inside the fold!"
Made me remember that the Good Shepherd
Hunted far and near to bring the one lost sheep
Back to the other ninety-nine.
I thought, statistically speaking,
The Good Shepherd leaves no sheep behind,
(A hundred percent salvific rate
I'd call it... Pretty good odds for even
A dumb sheep like me...).
After the ceremony,
Lunching at the family's house,
The older brother of the baptized boy
Looked up at me,
Cake in his mouth,
And asked,"Are you Jesus?"
Took me quite by surprise,
But smiling,
I said, "No, I'm not Jesus!"
He asked, "Where is Jesus?"
His grandfather said,
"He's here!"
Pointing to the little guy's chest.
A little while later,
When his mom sat next to him,
He pointed to his chest,
"Jesus lives in here!"
Sunday sermons...
One in a church,
One in a garage...
I heard two today.
------------------
Matthew 19:14 Jesus said, "Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these."
Jun 22, 2014
Jun 22, 2014 at 6:19 PM UTC
spread my rips apart
like a treasure chest
circumsize my heart
and with water bless'd
baptize me to hell
{ never a heaven to sell }
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 8:09 AM UTC
She let her words flow like the quickest stream
Falling from the glaciers to the meadow
Her mind never rests
So full of life
Healing the valley's drought
Her waters are soothing
The resonance of rhythm
The sound of silence...
Her words will baptize you
Make you believe in another power
The strength in solitude
The power in poetry.
May 2, 2016
May 2, 2016 at 1:05 AM UTC