"outpouring" poems
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QUIVER ALL-MAXIMIZING
SAMUEL DAVID <[email protected]>
3:38 AM (56 minutes ago)
to Daniel
SOAR OWNERSHIP
/ UTTERANCES OUTLABOURED PILGRIMS/
By the creditor at cyprus and on other grounds:
The counter-cedar Venice much unparalleled ever pursuant kindly indigenous street streams far above strange beneath the string ...' Dream castle before the 'Requiring much quill 'Peanut lieutenant great ones of the machinery citation / Worth pillow following purposes invasion with a rainfall bombardment epistle the pearl earning era: Closet by sessions pursue arithmetician diaries ' anchor calculus cumulative arrows propellant / Squadron in the field-refueling ' division visions ...' Upswing within the meaning axle conversion processes proofs / ' Electron icons ' Creation wireless reticence circles: Moon ship's amnesty crest reckon 'flaskbone SpurZebra...' Preferment goes by relieves and affectionate 'Oil The Self-graduation Outpouring / Vagrant above ant strides : Rodrigo peculiar ends demonstration/ Forego the-Outward acclimation : Upon all civility citizenry civil-rises other low less losses below yonder / Phrase of prose -possessions cuss ion syn chronicutensils 'asylum systems beyond stems : Preeminence blown 'being ht-thence quarries hijack travels history/Wherein of plant hours ' spicily spoke ***** Pilgrimage dilutes noble companies 'ago-maximize promptly alacrity; Exhibition the underrating besought levels- of quarry / burden oxidation immune slaughter
Cheap Hill Chips
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Jun 11, 2018
Jun 11, 2018 at 7:44 AM UTC
What is Poetry?
Is it emotions flowing onto paper?
Or is it the tranquil sea that holds the world's tears?
What is Poetry?
Is it the outpouring of emotions onto
A canvas of beauty?
Despair?
What is Poetry?
Look around you.
The lives of those surrounding yours are Poetry.
Those feelings that extend and pour out to one another is Poetry.
What affects you, runs through your being and
Makes you who you are.
Who you are is Poetry.
Poetry, the undying form, style, wanders through the generations.
An emotion?
Love is Poetry.
An indescribable emotion flowing from the depths of the soul.
Such is Poetry.
Reader, listener, friend.
No poet can say what Poetry is.
Similes, metaphors, analogies,
All just chalk on the board of life.
A poet can't describe Poetry.
Even now I am left in the fog of understanding, contemplation, and wonder.
So, friend, again I ask,
What is Poetry?
Nov 15, 2012
Nov 15, 2012 at 2:24 PM UTC
Death doesn't discriminate
Quite frankly, He doesn't care
Once He's out of the barrel
Whizzing through midair.
Gay, straight, Lesbian or Bi
You have no control if you die.
But the finger that pulled the trigger
Now that's a different story.
But motives mean nothing to the family in mourning
This morning.
There's nothing you could say
or explain away that would bring comfort today.
If you told them it was religion or a hate crime
that doesn't give them any more time.
And it's the outpouring of speechless faces
Awestruck gazes
That should shake us awake
in every state from our state of denial.
These cold steel devices have become our vices
becoming our own rod of judgement in bringing "justice".
A disagreement in lifestyle does not warrant a life.
If you feel offended, just turn the other cheek
And prevent tears from streaming down cheeks.
Death might not discriminate, but those who discriminate bring death.
Whether it's in the form of a gun
Or a loved one being shunned.
Life is precious and sacred
And if someone has it, you shouldn't take it.
Jun 12, 2016
Jun 12, 2016 at 1:30 PM UTC
With your words that made me fly somehow.
But hidden within ur innerself its always been your sweetest lie.
Talking bout your dreams devouring me like ashes twisted and slowly disappearing.
The truth acts like a spirited-away. Letting it fly back to its inside.
There's this always inside of you. Something hidden and somethng blocked. Stopping you from outpouring what's inside.
Mind and heart was in despair. They were always contrary but hearing all! With your honesty, i know there is all the droppin of everythng. All numb but eyes were all blown. I cant stop it.
But all a could say. Everythng was fragile.
Revenge has always been part of the human soul. not in its anatomy form or any interior or exterior aspects.
But functioning with its own parts.
Its the anger! Where it all starts. Jealousy and hurt were the main stream and always end to suffering.
Thats all for love. We'd all be needing for us to feel even.
Just a pinch of happiness just to get fair for someone that we love but did somethng wrong within us breaking us. Attacking every tiny vessels which in the end, Turning us into an evil creature.
It was a buss - telling me it was that simple thing. Not to make it more bigger. But lets end this up.
Still it hurts,... Still. Its another woman. Such senstivity arising.
Jun 18, 2013
Jun 18, 2013 at 12:48 AM UTC
I
This is the night mail crossing the Border,
Bringing the cheque and the postal order,
Letters for the rich, letters for the poor,
The shop at the corner, the girl next door.
Pulling up Beattock, a steady climb:
The gradient's against her, but she's on time.
Past cotton-grass and moorland boulder
Shovelling white steam over her shoulder,
Snorting noisily as she passes
Silent miles of wind-bent grasses.
Birds turn their heads as she approaches,
Stare from bushes at her blank-faced coaches.
Sheep-dogs cannot turn her course;
They slumber on with paws across.
In the farm she passes no one wakes,
But a jug in a bedroom gently shakes.
II
Dawn freshens, Her climb is done.
Down towards Glasgow she descends,
Towards the steam tugs yelping down a glade of cranes
Towards the fields of apparatus, the furnaces
Set on the dark plain like gigantic chessmen.
All Scotland waits for her:
In dark glens, beside pale-green lochs
Men long for news.
III
Letters of thanks, letters from banks,
Letters of joy from girl and boy,
Receipted bills and invitations
To inspect new stock or to visit relations,
And applications for situations,
And timid lovers' declarations,
And gossip, gossip from all the nations,
News circumstantial, news financial,
Letters with holiday snaps to enlarge in,
Letters with faces scrawled on the margin,
Letters from uncles, cousins, and aunts,
Letters to Scotland from the South of France,
Letters of condolence to Highlands and Lowlands
Written on paper of every hue,
The pink, the violet, the white and the blue,
The chatty, the catty, the boring, the adoring,
The cold and official and the heart's outpouring,
Clever, stupid, short and long,
The typed and the printed and the spelt all wrong.
IV
Thousands are still asleep,
Dreaming of terrifying monsters
Or of friendly tea beside the band in Cranston's or Crawford's:
Asleep in working Glasgow, asleep in well-set Edinburgh,
Asleep in granite Aberdeen,
They continue their dreams,
But shall wake soon and hope for letters,
And none will hear the postman's knock
Without a quickening of the heart,
For who can bear to feel himself forgotten?
4.7k
Please take away these storms
I can't survive another thunderstom
Everyday I stand closer to the platform
I don't want to perform
Please take away these storms
I don't want to be behind a door
On the floor
I just can't cry out
Every time I shout
the thunder bangs throughout
You're all shutout
Please take away these storms
I can't survive them anymore
I want to go through each day screaming and exploring
Yet the thunder is outpouring
This is too crippling
Please take away these storms
Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 7:58 AM UTC
your eyes are
more potent
than any pill
i could swallow.
not of this earth
extraterrestrial
the nearest i can reach
to the image of god:
a deep muddy earth
familiar
uncontrolled
i think they're sweet
like chocolate
but they punish me
without thought,
peeling off
each layer of
my endurance until
there won't be
anyone left:
nothing left of
who i was
so here we are
i remain latched
to the thought of you.
and you
you're as blind as ever.
Jan 3, 2019
Jan 3, 2019 at 2:30 AM UTC
On that fateful day of Pentecost,
power came down from on high.
For it originated with God’s presence
and His Kingdom, that’s far beyond our sky.
The ascension of Christ had been witnessed,
with Him clearly rising above the clouds;
He was no longer bound by planetary constraint
and the opinionated amazement of the crowd.
Upon the Earth, a violent breeze blew;
it brought forth ‘winds of change’ into the hearts of men.
This first outpouring of the Holy Spirit reinforced
God’s abundant Love, for us all once again.
The power of Jehovah had appeared,
as ‘tongues of fire’ above the people’s heads -
Thus fulfilling an Old Testament prophesy,
as the prophet Joel had previously illustrated.
The spiritual battles are fought today
inside the imagination of our minds;
cleanse your thoughts with The Word
and shift your ideals with His holy paradigm.
God has promised in The Scriptures
that He will never leave us nor forsake us.
His comforting Spirit remains along side
as we now await - the final return of Christ Jesus.
Author Notes:
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2010, All rights reserved.
Jan 24, 2013
Jan 24, 2013 at 6:25 AM UTC
I need a hug,
but not a quick,
lazy hug
during which the touch feels like less of a comforting gesture,
but more of an awkward happening
with limp arms hanging like gigantic weights,
pulling you into the floor.
Not one where you aren't ever really sure if you should hang on
for just a moment more,
or if you should let go,
and release into an uncomfortable silence
that lasts until someone coughs hesitantly.
The sound reverberating through the atomosphere,
leaving a heavy draft of atypical embarrassment at the contact,
waiting for someone else to bring up some random topic of discussion
to break the icy and heavy silence.
No.
I need a real hug.
The kind where someone who loves you see your pain
even though you might not say anything.
Reading the waters behind your smiling eyes,
seeing the hidden hurt behind your irises,
they grab you,
perhaps by your slightly shacking shoulders,
and pull you into their warm encasement.
Holding you tightly
and safely
in their care.
And the two of you just hang onto this affectionate moment
of profound concern among brethren of a species
The kind where time seems to stop
in admiration of this subtle outpouring of unified allegiance
before which the universe bows.
I need the kind of hug that demonstrates a fierce loyalty.
Devotion that knows
should the object of such intense friendship fall into the pit,
from whence none return unscathed in some way,
they will throw down a rope
a foothold
a salvation,
and they will pull that person from the depths of the darkness
maybe even at the risk of falling in themselves.
Yes.
That is the kind of esoteric gesture
that can be so impactful on those in pain,
regardless of whether that pain be great or small.
And should you find that you receive love like that,
treasure it.
And should you find that you give love like that,
never forget how special and rare someone like you is.
Dec 4, 2012
Dec 4, 2012 at 8:20 PM UTC
Let me tell you the story of how you showed me what it means to be part of a family. Let me tell you how sometimes I joke that “hitting means love if it’s your family,” but I’m only actually half-joking, because that’s how I grew up. Let me tell you how family has been for me in the past and how it meant people that would hurt you, betray you, abuse you, and destroy your very will to live. Let me tell you about the nonexistent dad, the hateful stepdad, the cousin that liked hand jobs, and the uncle that came for me every night without fail. Let me tell you that the abuse wasn’t just ****** and how that one time we got sent to the orphanage I was only upset because they took away my little sister. Let me tell you about how I found a strange peace there. And let me tell you how all the people I have loved most have died, and how I thought I was a curse so I stopped loving at all. Let me tell you how weird it is to me to have parents calling to check up on you, and eating dinners together, and just having conversations. Let me tell you how I look at y’all, confused as to how you can stand one another without the help of drugs. Because let me tell you, that’s all that stopped the yelling and punching and hate at my house. But let me tell you about how y’all seem to genuinely care for one another. And let me tell you how much it makes me want to cry to be enveloped within this family. Let me tell you about the time your mom told me she loves me and I didn’t know how to respond, because my mom and I only traded hate. But let me also tell you about how I started saying it back, and mean it. And let me tell you about my 26th birthday, when your family threw me my very first birthday party, with cake and ice cream and presents, and I didn’t know how to react to such an outpouring of love, or how to begin to show how thankful I was. Let me tell you about y’all planning a trip six months away and inviting me. Let me tell you how much it means, not only to be invited on a family trip, but to be accepted so much that it’s just assumed I’ll still be around then. Because let me tell you, I live in fear of losing you. And let me tell you about the time you almost gave me a heart attack by asking if I’d be okay with your niece calling me “Aunt Amber,” because part of me is still scared of getting that close. Let me also tell you how my heart clenched when your mom told me your niece threw away your high school dance pictures because I’m not in them. So let me just tell you how I cry happy tears now, knowing I am part of a real family.
May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 1:12 PM UTC
I thought of you when
I was sad today, and you
Made a smile appear
Right on my face you
Have replaced, a lost
Moment’s unhappy tear
And within the thought
Of you came a brightness,
Shining as bright as the
Newly risen sun.
As I quietly reflected upon
The goodness I received,
Realizing your outpouring
Of grace is never done.
Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 2:29 PM UTC
~dedicated to the old poets here~
the addictive pairing of certain words, a line,
a lyric, slap-snapping you to full attention,
unfailing decades of instant recognition,
an adrenaline + caffeine shot that powers
a chance, a tensile injection that causes
the lips to commence a new choreography,
the fingers to tap, a jumbled, hurried, embattled
disorderly mess that regenerates, reformulates,
concords into agreement, a harmonic consistency
a geometry of many differing angles that equate
a hard physical, a soft mentality in a singled work,
coexisting in a sacred state of singed confluence,
though imperfect, satisfies mathematical boundaries
of a random outpouring, crowning the stripe inspiring
the spark that finally satisfyingly silences an ignited
filament a-glowing for years, that holy happens
to cross your antennae, fulfilling the need to honor,
the sacred geometry of chance, the honor to need,
the joy of saying, at last, this unwritten debt, paid!
————————————————————————-
(1) a favorite of many years, a lyric from “The Shape of My Heart” by Sting
(2) Dec 3 2020 2:53pm NYC
Dec 3, 2020
Dec 3, 2020 at 2:59 PM UTC
divine creator, I thirst after you
because I have known the dryness of
trying to fill my thirst with worldly clamors
my thirsty soul cannot be filled with liquid spirits,
but by the life flowing and giving Spirit
help me lord to see clearly
and to love you more deeply,
so my love of you is not only in thought or
empty words.
help me to be honest and see that my
love is lacking when I hate even one
of your many children,
including myself
may your outpouring love
begin in me, so I may
share your life giving water
with those still
thirst
for
you
Aug 6, 2014
Aug 6, 2014 at 10:29 PM UTC
I want to go back to my past
When tame pigeons of joy nested on my eaves
And I could hear their crooning
With the sweetness of love outpouring
I want to go back to my past
When innocent instincts ruled my heart
And I ran after every call from the woods or bush
Mesmerized by the whistles of the oriole and the thrush
I want to go back to my past
When every rainbow and every peacock feather
Ignited curiosity in me as a child
And colored my imagination wild
I want to go back to my past
When, with friends, I sat in the mango grove
And savored the ripe juicy mangoes
Careful not to let the pulp drip down our mouths
I want to go back to my past
When we strolled along the sandy strands
Watching the wild waves fray
And cooled by the kiss of spray
I want to go back to my past
When we had watched at night
A hundred fireflies dancing around the neem
Wondering if they were stars fallen from heaven’s seam
I want to go back to my past
When, like breeze, we ran over the meadows
Looking for the bleating lamb
Singing in chorus, ‘Mary had a little lamb’
I want to go back to my past,
When life appears a trying test
With ‘the slings and arrows of an outrageous fortune’
And as and when I feel so desperately alone!
Aug 21, 2016
Aug 21, 2016 at 8:23 AM UTC
The Great Niagra Falls
Spilling over like my love
loose and reckless
alive and fruitful
And having found a source
an outlet for this outpouring love
this deep inborn desire to say 'yes'
with all of me; my life
This thick lust for life
and for love
and this perfect intuition
to give it all away
I am proud to be alive.
And to have the capacity
in my bones and in my flesh
to say 'yes' with all of me
So small and so fragile
yet having existed forever.
Nonetheless, impermanent, I am.
Here to make a permanent mark
with this pen and this paper
and this racing heart
so uniquely my own
and so beautifully similar to the rest.
All here through the great devotional
journey of our ancestors
so gladly outpouring life,
like the great Niagra Falls
Into the present moment,
into our hands
And so,
I pick up this pen
and I write.
Aug 10, 2018
Aug 10, 2018 at 6:53 PM UTC
Desktop In The Charismatic
THEOLOGIAN ESSENCE <[email protected]>
BONE STIRS ....'
ASSEMBLIONAIRE BEYOND MAGICIAN WOLVES
INVISIBLE GRAND OUTPOURING AMNESTY SURROUNDS....'
Desktop In The Charismatic
Dream into refuge all plantation
Dream into cog all wheel
Dream into bracing all consultative
Dream into rocking all regent
Dream into preferable all chariots
Dream into luxurious all absorbs
Dream into contagious all enthusiasm
Dream into communal all welding
Dream into universal all anatomy
Dream into reality all rings
Dream into searchingly all mysteries
Dream into artillery all mechanisms
Dream into colony all proportions
Dream into miracle all compositions
Dream into artistry all pursuit
Dream into alliance all admiral company
Dream into fragrance all new extensions
Dream into vast volume habitation all invests
Dream into carrying devotion all per excellence
Dream into grace-going all shepherd rewarding
Dream into oasis all resuming acquaintance
Dream into cross over all answering wonder.
Your Invades-Of-Veins,
SURETICE TONGUE
Email: [email protected]
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Desktop In The Charismatic
SAMUEL DAVID <[email protected]>
11/9/17
to hydee1982
Desktop In The Charismatic
Dream into refuge all plantation
Dream into cog all wheel
Dream into bracing all consultative
Dream into rocking all regent
Dream into preferable all chariots
Dream into luxurious all absorbs
Dream into contagious all enthusiasm
Dream into communal all welding
Dream into universal all anatomy
Dream into reality all rings
Dream into searchingly all mysteries
Dream into artillery all mechanisms
Dream into colony all proportions
Dream into miracle all compositions
Dream into artistry all pursuit
Dream into alliance all admiral company
Dream into fragrance all new extensions
Dream into vast volume habitation all invests
Dream into carrying devotion all per excellence
Dream into grace-going all shepherd rewarding
Dream into oasis all resuming acquaintance
Dream into cross over all answering wonder.
Your Invades-Of-Veins,
Samuel-David O. Armstrong
Email: [email protected]
+2348131914240
Click here to Reply or Forward
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Aug 11, 2018
Aug 11, 2018 at 7:27 AM UTC
Have I ever been profoundly lost? Yes. Railroad tracks and a river wide as the Amazon, yet lost. Living in the intense sunshine of northern New York summer, but lost in the shade of a gazebo. And here? Here I am enclosed in a tomb of porcelain machinery. With another winter passing its calling card in at the window. The warm steam no longer cutting the rough edge. Wearing wool sweater nights. The freedom of summer gone and only one **** What a nightmare, what a strange dream, life on planet, winter all around.
A system, they call it a system. I call it an evolved anarchy. Repetition, never. What do I know. Repetition, every two thousand years. Coming of a frost, coming of a fire. When nature proves furious beyond remembrance. Polar bear mugs wino.
--------------------------------------
***********
Tall, attractive, talented WM, 31,
trumpet player, takes pleasure in
performing *********** with clean
attractive women. Age, race, marital
status no object. All replies answered.
Marlowe went to bed. He had a headache. Used an empty bottle for a teddy bear/sap. In the middle of the night, three secret men approached the rock he slept under. They did not see him there, the fire had long ago gone out. But they'd seen it across the valley, and tried to estimate. They were close.
What do I care. They did this, he did that, they did this and this and that. He used his feet, took off his shoes. It mauled him to death in two minutes of the first round. Would have been better for him if it happened faster. Never got his knife out of his pocket. But he lived, with one eye after that.
--------------------------------------
What do you do with a drunken sailor early
in the morning?
You pull that sailor out of bed by his hairy
moorings.
Why should anybody believe this, this tiresome outpouring of old moans and groans, grumbles about loneliness of life and dominance of telephone. This gamble on print, above the spoken, sung word. The meditative call to inhabitants of planet to kneel woefully and pray. No, to chant as if the planet were mending.
Mending rhymes with ending, why not. And television, radio appreciated. Drugs and ***** jagged bent faces, black wet rock. The mantle of moss ripped away. Period. Amen to men. Absolute magical ripcord.
Aug 9, 2015
Aug 9, 2015 at 9:29 AM UTC
This poem is to my Beautiful and Loving sisters.
Also to my Brothers whom Love others strongly.
The strength that you both have , the strength of a lion.
You have the outpouring Love like an waterfall.
The Love never cease , but continue everyday.
I have been Blessed by you whom write .
Beautifully every day some with great wisdom.
You speak out of the outpouring of your beautiful hearts.
You whom never cease to help others with your words.
Thank you my Fellow Knights and Ladies you are indeed special.
May 2, 2017
May 2, 2017 at 12:03 PM UTC
Blacklight shines across the hollow forest
As I stumble along the beaten path
Our fellowship slowly diminishes by the hour
As the night hunts its tender prey
Emotion erupts like a youthful river
Outpouring among our humble tribe
Drowning all that wade across its mighty shores
Slaughtering all that lay in its path
As darkness falls and dawn prevails
Our battle scars begin to fade
As our noble wounds must be concealed
To prevent our modest world's dismay
Jun 7, 2016
Jun 7, 2016 at 4:00 PM UTC
I am irrevocably in love with you.
This is not a poem.
This is a confession.
This is an outpouring of my heart stings.
I am so in love with you that I needed to get it out on the internet and let the world know.
You possess my whole heart.
Oh dear God, I am so ******* in love with you.
Mar 12, 2022
Mar 12, 2022 at 2:31 AM UTC
poetry comes and goes
opens and flows
spills into streams of prose
amidst the musical rows of my thoughts.
forms and rhythms
which melt and morph and sing into being
the abstractions of synaptic connections,
write into existence
the chemical signals of neurotransmitter gossip,
and transfer to the Symbolic
the electrical impulses of the Real
scratch and peel the caulk
from the edges of The Faucet,
turn and wind the wheeled handles open,
open, open.
Past lefty loosey and into
the outpouring of pent up pressure;
raw, and juicy.
Poetry is *** death and magic.
The art of training the mind's faucets
elastic.
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 12:40 PM UTC
It's done
My heart beating stress inducing chemicals
I ignore them, I am still high from the relievers
Barely able to focus
My confidence remained with me
Though I felt its desire to escape and abandon
My voice was steady, though I rushed at times
Leaving planned points stranded and unappreciated
Have to finish, return to my seat, watch the next suffer
My time has come and gone I do not recall who I was
What was my panic?
I know enough and I continue to learn
The unfamiliar angle of substance never used
Created a sensitive reaction of outpouring
Near destruction from the surge then artificial joy
Came close to casting away my life's work on a whim
We were brought closer but my true condition exposed
I have become an obscene being to be feared
Unstable in the face of crushing choices
Collapsing under my own gravity
My next challenge awaits
And I anticipate the fear
Lesson learned
Nov 13, 2010
Nov 13, 2010 at 5:33 AM UTC
Soot and ashes are the platter from which I dine,
the pool of my flagellation is the outpouring Merlot.
I forget to breathe through the lash,
rending the sackcloth until my nakedness is set before you.
The bells harken, the pendulum keeps time,
my requiem is set by your pulse.
DO NOT dismiss me, DO NOT neglect to
render my salvation in parcels.
Level after level of purgatory the holy grail
I imbibe and drink in ruin.
As the shredding of my skin with filaments of rope,
dislplay a journey of persecutions selfless ardor.
Crouching I beseech, I grovel,
forming steepled hands.
Oh, humble penance
slips my parched tongue and crippled lips.
Sweet King, Soveriegn Lord, Merciful Master,
I cower in my nothingness,
wrapped in the robes of bleak shame.
STILL I PRESS FORTH,
through decadent chambers,
in filth for a glimpse of your being.
For the simple gesture of uttering
your name.
Does your crown sweat with the bulk of my sobs?
To wipe your brow,
smear your worries on my bodice.
Enticing you from your throne to love...
a slave.
Sep 7, 2012
Sep 7, 2012 at 9:47 AM UTC
Our peaceful night sleeps soundly in a mesh of magic arrows
Awakens, looking into the seeking eyes of mankind
Feeling their great joy and bitter sadness flow
Into each breath
In kind
A delightful journey gleaming softly within a minute’s pause
Calmness laughing, lost inside a rolling tear
A gateway bursting with applause
Our peaceful night
Can sense
Our spirits here
Emblems alight and lie mirrored within the wakened night
Glory crowns the essence of our coming day
An outpouring of our feelings light
Night’s magic arrows
On their way
Mankind gazes in wonder at the splendor high above
Night wakens reaching out for their hands
Filling each soul with arrows of love
With each breath he breathes
And commands
Nov 1, 2010
Nov 1, 2010 at 8:30 AM UTC
God,
I have been so self-centered
focused on me all day long
as if I'm God
as if my ways are right and just
Or, at least,
more important than anyone else's
As if,
I matter more
or my little world even
matters at all
You know, the one where
I'm on the throne and
You give me glory
That world doesn't exist,
but I pretend it does
I live like it does
so often,
too often
Live for my comfort,
live for my fame,
ruled by my "right" to
"my rights"
as if they existed, when really
I surrendered my rights
the moment I
surrendered to You
Yet
I'm trying to take them back
as if my will mattered
or my ways were
right and true
Righteousness
is from You alone
Self-righteousness, the burden
on my back, take
this burden away
The sin I carry
Lord,
I need you now
Direct my thoughts away
from me and my selfish ways
where I care more for
my comfort than
the people around me
Turn my face to You
Only there do I find rest
my peace is in You
And when my eyes are fixed
on the throne
Yours, not the one I
try to construct
Then justice rolls down
mercy will I see
love, an outpouring
of the Love that's been shown
to me
Grace will I give, for
You gave it to me
And my world will shrink
never more to be seen
consumed by your
all-consuming, gracious sea
Lord,
help me
help me be
like You
Jul 16, 2014
Jul 16, 2014 at 3:59 PM UTC