"blesser" poems
The joyful heart is the buoyant heart—
empowered to rise above its circumstances,
unweighted, unburdened, unbound,
tied only to that which would lift it higher,
untethered from anything which would
pull it down, pull it under or suffocate it.
It's the free heart, quiet and at rest
yet jubilant and uncontained,
the celebrating heart, the praising heart,
the thankful heart, the heart set on pilgrimage,
bent on adventure, journey and romance.
All the while it's a waiting heart
because it's a yielded, led heart—
a heart which doesn't run ahead of the LORD
but willingly, quickly to the LORD—
a heart that though eagerly anticipating each
twisting turn, next horizon and changing path
keeps its eyes fixed not on the scenery
but forever on the Shepherd
because it's a heart persuaded
that He alone is the Great Reward
for which it has always been looking.
True joy is only ours when we find an endless
source of satisfaction, and of these I know only One!
The secret to all joy is to crave Him above all else.
The joyful heart is the one addicted fully to Him,
desperate for Him to the expense of all else,
willing to sacrifice everything to have that craving satisfied.
Joy and idols, I have learned,
do not easily reside together in the same heart.
So if I find that joy is chased away
the most likely culprits are my own desires.
What am I wanting more than Jesus?
For if intimacy with Him is the supreme goal of my life
then nothing can arise which I'm not enabled to bear with joy.
There is, I suppose, nothing so reliable as suffering and loss
to expose all of the hidden idols within me.
It's surely those who have suffered the greatest
and most frequent losses for Christ who are also
most capable of knowing the deepest and most abiding joy.
For it's when we've been stripped bare of everything else
that we begin to know for certain that our joy is based
not on the temporary blessings of our circumstances
but only on the presence of the Eternal Blesser Himself.
Sometimes He offers to us all that is in His right hand,
but for any with eyes truly opened to see
the most precious of times may be those
when He offers to us only the intimacy of His right hand.
Rivers of sadness can open up
into wide gulfs of endless delight and
are often the very courses needed to carry us there.
When all is lost, we find to our amazement
that, even so, we still have ALL
and no one can rob us of it.
When He takes everything from us
He proves Himself to be EVERYTHING to us.
Jul 26, 2017
Jul 26, 2017 at 4:11 PM UTC
Beautiful soul
The carrier of hardships
You are the spawn
Of proud ancestry
The source of awe
The muse for my desire
Your dark skin
Is my heart's awakening
Yet you are not for me
You are not for me
You are not for me
Distance remains a consistent
Impediment to my sacrilege
Travesty of a face of empathy
Sadly I'm less than eyes can see
Yet more beneath is left to greet
My ears hear psalms mourning me
Tears leak upon my pale cheeks
Speeches are given casually
Venom spews through the loose
Vortexes of speaker-box booths
The black hole that once controlled
My inner intuitions and sold soul
The owner being you in truth
Sweetly scented lullabies shoo
Away doubtful tunes in bloom
The replacements are couth sleuths
Meetings seldom meet fruition
Meat meets my mouth in suspicion
Meaning I'm once again a victim
Meandering through prisms
Restaurant owners are slower
To greet me at the doorway
Knowing fulfillment of my order
Won't require a table for more
Not for the kind of man who
Stands and is hardly understood
Also seemingly oblivious to who
Is true and reluctant to face proof
That you are not for me
You are not for me
You are not for me
Beautiful girl
You are the grains
Beautiful girlfriend
You are the coastline
Beautiful woman
You are the ocean
Beautiful wife
You are the Earth in whole
Yet you are not for me
You are not for me
You are not for me
The tremors
The whispers
The night terrors
The torch bearers
The dark caresser
The static selector
The burnt dresser
The hell blesser
The black lipstick wearer
You are for me.
Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 11:36 PM UTC
Je suis né ici, je suis un enfant de l'héraut
Un enfant de france et un enfant du monde.
Mais je ne suis plus un enfant,
Alors qui suis-je vraiment?
Je suis fils de mes parents,
Le fils d'une tragédie, le fils de l'eau et le frère d'un ange.
Mais je suis en vie,
Je suis le fils du terroir et de la pluie,
Des animaux et des plantes qui m'ont nourris
Mais le temps est passé et j'ai grandi,
Alors qui suis-je aujourd'hui?
Je suis un homme, de taille moyenne,
Avec une tête pleine de questions,
Avec une bouche qui souri souvent,
Et des yeux qui pleurent presque autant,
Parce qu'on m'a appris a avoir des sentiments,
Et a savoir être faible autant qu’être fort,
A partager toutes mes idées,
Et ne chercher que la vérité.
Je suis un élève du doute,
Et aujourd’hui plus que jamais,
Je me demande où mes pensées vont m'emmener.
On m'a enseigné l'harmonie et gentillesse,
Mais comment ne jamais blesser?
Comment se faire des amis
Sans se faire autant d'ennemis?
Quel que soit ce que je suis,
Quels que soient mes choix,
Quelqu'un les appelleras erreurs
Et me haïra pour ça.
Mais on m'a aussi dit que les choix ne sont pas des erreurs.
Alors qui suis-je? Je suis moi.
Je forge mon petit bout de miroir, et je l’appellerais vérité.
Et si quelqu'un viens me le reprocher,
Je lui dirais: "désolé,
Mais j'ai dû faire un choix."
Nov 3, 2014
Nov 3, 2014 at 6:28 AM UTC
gonna speak the words
that quake the christian
that crucify the jew,
it’s gonna bar the torah,
build bridges upon the hindu,
god and great power,
war of mortal
where is your father,
your creator,
mother,
blesser,
such sub-deity,
such inferior,
man manifests God,
constructs the divinity
to self satisfy,
I speak no lie,
speak no truth,
just the way
of our weakness,
just another
lost boy conveying,
just a repetition
rerunning,
solving nothing,
just an artist
poetic
playing out
the crumbs of
ideas long lost
and reborn,
living on
reincarnated
everliving,
just a philosopher
readvising,
just god in
meek
human
skin,
just no one,
another voice,
another name,
I’m just you,
and we are we
Apr 5, 2013
Apr 5, 2013 at 3:53 AM UTC
+++
Tongue, curser, kisser, blesser,
Hold thyself firm and still,
Enough! Insulter, and confessor,
For cruel and bitter you can be,
Away with thee, arrogant professor,
Professing truths you think you see,
Fumbling clod, ye ought be acquiescer
+++
Aug 8, 2015
Aug 8, 2015 at 8:03 AM UTC
"On ne voit bien qu'avec le cœur."
Mais, à mon avis, quand j'ai vu quelquechose avec mon cœur,
Quand j'ai décidé
ou j'ai entendu
Les choses devinnent malheureux pour moi.
Pourquoi je choisirais quelquechose
ou quelqu'un
que voulait me blesser?
May 25, 2016
May 25, 2016 at 10:02 PM UTC
Be confident. Know that now is only a moment, and that if today is as bad as it gets, understand that by tomorrow, today will have ended. Be gracious. Accept each extended hand offered, to pull you back from the somewhere you cannot escape. Be diligent. Scrape the gray sky clean. Realize every dark cloud is a smoke screen meant to blind us from the truth, and the truth is whether we see them or not - the sun and moon are still there and always there is light. Be forthright. Despite your instinct to say "it's alright, I'm okay" - be honest. Say how you feel without fear or guilt, without remorse or complexity. Be lucid in your explanation, be sterling in your oppose. If you think for one second no one knows what you've been going through; be accepting of the fact that you are wrong, that the long drawn and heavy breaths of despair have at times been felt by everyone - that pain is part of the human condition and that alone makes you a legion. We hungry underdogs, we risers with dawn, we dissmisser's of odds, we blesser's of on – we will station ourselves to the calm. We will hold ourselves to the steady, be ready player one. Life is going to come at you armed with hard times and tough choices, your voice is your weapon, your thoughts ammunition – there are no free extra men, be aware that as the instant now passes, it exists now as then.
Be forgiving. Living with the burden of anger, is not living. Giving your focus to wrath will leave your entire self absent of what you need. Love and hate are beasts and the one that grows is the one you feed.
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 12:26 AM UTC
through Your eyes
I am magnified
through Your eyes
all the best and all the worst
and in between
and in the quiet places waiting
You could hear me when I cried
in the darkest times relating
understanding what's inside
through Your eyes
every dark and desperate move
and all the lies
and all the places I've been in
though a sin
but you're a real and present savior
and blesser of my sneeze
and so here I am Lord, once again
asking on my knees
Through your eyes
just see me through this storm
and be my guide,
I can't really see through
to the other side
only you,
You know currents
and the depth of every tide
and you promised to be with me
and i know you've never ever lied
and in the smallest seed of faith
you see the tree it will become
you're making something out of nothing
chose the lowly and the ***
and if my trusting you
is foolish
than I'd rather be that too
than pretend I'm strong and wise enough
to make it without you.
and then when my little faith is tested
when I'm down here in the deep
when it's getting late
and I can't wait
you help me get to sleep.
and when I fall down you are with me
like you fell down with that cross
and you lift the burden
from my back
and help me with the sauce
and with the words all wrong
you show me
just how to wrap it up
and you meet all my needs
bring me right through the weeds
Dear God that I'll see
through your eyes.
Sep 14, 2013
Sep 14, 2013 at 9:28 PM UTC
Il est deux Amitiés comme il est deux Amours.
L'une ressemble à l'imprudence ;
Faite pour l'âge heureux dont elle a l'ignorance,
C'est une enfant qui rit toujours.
Bruyante, naïve, légère,
Elle éclate en transports joyeux.
Aux préjugés du monde indocile, étrangère,
Elle confond les rangs et folâtre avec eux.
L'instinct du cœur est sa science,
Et son guide est la confiance.
L'enfance ne sait point haïr ;
Elle ignore qu'on peut trahir.
Si l'ennui dans ses yeux (on l'éprouve à tout âge)
Fait rouler quelques pleurs,
L'Amitié les arrête, et couvre ce nuage
D'un nuage de fleurs.
On la voit s'élancer près de l'enfant qu'elle aime,
Caresser la douleur sans la comprendre encor,
Lui jeter des bouquets moins riants qu'elle-même,
L'obliger à la fuite et reprendre l'essor.
C'est elle, ô ma première amie !
Dont la chaîne s'étend pour nous unir toujours.
Elle embellit par toi l'aurore de ma vie,
Elle en doit embellir encor les derniers jours.
Oh ! que son empire est aimable !
Qu'il répand un charme ineffable
Sur la jeunesse et l'avenir,
Ce doux reflet du souvenir !
Ce rêve pur de notre enfance
En a prolongé l'innocence ;
L'Amour, le temps, l'absence, le malheur,
Semblent le respecter dans le fond de mon cœur.
Il traverse avec nous la saison des orages,
Comme un rayon du ciel qui nous guide et nous luit :
C'est, ma chère, un jour sans nuages
Qui prépare une douce nuit.
L'autre Amitié, plus grave, plus austère,
Se donne avec lenteur, choisit avec mystère ;
Elle observe en silence et craint de s'avancer ;
Elle écarte les fleurs, de peur de s'y blesser.
Choisissant la raison pour conseil et pour guide,
Elle voit par ses yeux et marche sur ses pas :
Son abord est craintif, son regard est timide ;
Elle attend, et ne prévient pas.
692
What's that?
In the distance?
A life?
That's distant.
That's different.
That's dumb.
Existence.
Just finish this.
Where am I?
Why am I here?
Where all I know is to cry...
And also to fear.
Where all I see...
Is the end is near.
Over here,
Over there.
Overgrowth.
Taken unfair.
New.
A smoky rising.
To corrupt the lesser.
New.
A ideal rising.
To corrupt the blesser.
It's not a rue.
There is more than a few.
So call to the angels.
Call to the gods.
Call to whatever,
Even if it's not a facaude.
You see me staring off,
Something in the distance.
The fake ideal,
Of love and praise.
Falling out,
Through the haze.
My ideals and desires,
Floating down.
Paper scraps.
They make me frown.
So what do I see,
Just barely in the distance.
Me.
Aug 11, 2018
Aug 11, 2018 at 9:36 AM UTC
Pourquoi cet amour n'est-il pas facile Pourquoi est-ce que quand l'amour est là, ce n'est pas facile
Pourquoi cette douleur vient-elle facilement Et la douleur est un fruit défendu
Pourquoi est-ce que ce qui n'est pas pour nous, nous attire le plus Pourquoi est-il si difficile de partir Encore plus difficile de rester
Pourquoi ai-je peur de te blesser Pourquoi ai-je besoin de te blesser
pour moi
Feb 14, 2021
Feb 14, 2021 at 5:00 AM UTC
ase' and abundance: i feel your power and i thank you: please, mote this be: grant my wish, allow me to see: please i know you see me, i know you hear me: bless this business, bless this household: my mother aches and i carry her heart and burden: so mote it be, greater lover, greater blesser, greater benefic: beauty in your name, herald the joys of doves for one to see the abundance you overflow with your ***** milk for all, sweetness cherished at last and only a drop of cheese to bring onto the world: nothing but doughness and gripes, grand cherokee drives and cold whetstone slabs: is this the price i pay? for your gold, silk, priorities. . .
i sleep in a bed of earthenware, moss, sprinkled with gold and lapis lazuli -- my house is ornamented with believer's sins and confessions, yet my swollen ******* and miraculous ***** and precious derriere moves and rubs against his warm ***** member, it is sewn out of his love, his eros, his psyche:
it overflows and joys onto me and my cheeks flush to know i feel your presence, Jove: we decree, I decree, i am humbly awaiting your gift:
here is my public awareness and my service to you, to make the world know of your swiftiness, your gaudiness, your lordliness, your bigness, your vastness, your richness, the chimes and dings and the orbs and the sparkles and the floaters and all the things you are that you send my way to remind me of the power you have bestowed upon me: thank you Jove: do not miss me, I will not miss you. bless my business, bless my household, my wares:
you love me, i feel this in my ******* that the lion-hearted man kiss each night, he loves to circle and twirl his tongue around my chocolate coated ******* squeezing and pawing at my ******* he yearns to **** mote it be, Jupiter: allow milk to flow from my ******* and onto him, allow the seeds of your wealth and of his *** to flow inside of me: my ears ring for I know you hear and see my plea, the white flashes of light bring up to me that you are near: and my henads: beauty, beautiful, by Jove, don't leave:
he will never leave, for I am heaven: he lies here, ontop of me, thrusting inside of me, riches and security from his mouth and from my ******* comes forth love and creativity: he wills to desperately serving me, desperately worshipping me;
you have granted me the Gift, you have granted me as Seer, and you have granted me the form of a Goddess inside and out: an angel as they might say: inside and out, blessed be me by you, O Energies: please, do not see your way out, only see your way within me. mote it be, ase.
Feb 7, 2021
Feb 7, 2021 at 9:58 PM UTC
Sonnet.
La pudeur n'a pas de clémence,
Nul aveu ne reste impuni,
Et c'est par le premier nenni
Que l'ère des douleurs commence.
De ta bouche où ton cœur s'élance
Que l'aveu reste donc banni !
Le cœur peut offrir l'infini
Dans la profondeur du silence.
Baise sa main sans la presser
Comme un lis facile à blesser,
Qui tremble à la moindre secousse ;
Et l'aimant sans nommer l'amour,
Tais-lui que sa présence est douce,
La tienne sera douce un jour.
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