Getting to know
my maker
is no small feat.
God is the author
of everything,
all knowing,
all seeing.
He is the wisdom
I have grown to know.
Tomorrow is no promise.
The Almighty
Secret To Eternity,
but not longevity.
Getting to know
my maker
is no small feat.
God is the author
of everything,
all knowing,
all seeing.
He is the wisdom
I have grown to know.
Tomorrow is no promise.
The Almighty
Secret To Eternity,
but not longevity.
I can hear the sounds
of spiritual warfare
in the song of humanity.
The agonizing beat
of souls succumb
to illicit substance.
A need to use
and abuse
using addiction
as an excuse.
I won’t submit
or be poisoned
by a barren
skepticism.
Let Me Be Your Wake Up Call
if you value
your life at all.
Selective apathy-
the choice to care
what to care less about.
A lack of zeal, well defined by
past life experience
of dreams crushed indeed.
Do you not see
hope was meant for me?
A Delusion Dissolved
into menial matters.
What can we do
but be overcome
by your aura
of humdrum?
Carry on, carry-on,
but don’t forget your faith
in a world dying.
Overcome by holy bread,
which should have been broken
and shared with fellowship,
but I can’t read God’s mind
and heaven knows I tried.
He dropped his keys
so gracefully as I lost my place
in The Unknown.
Grief catches up with you,
generational struggles
have you running for help.
Insight is the key to keep,
drop the rest and realize
balance brings
self-leadership-
honest internal dialogue.
Don’t lie to “the self”
the dichotomy of imaginary friends
and alternate dimensions
to calm you in the end.
Party’s over folks,
the stragglers must leave
and the rainbow confetti
absolutely
must be vacuumed.
The doom
of a silent room,
the ghostly hum
of drunk rum.
She called it a
“Bah Humbug”
party.
For those who were
sick of holiday graces,
those who absolutely
needed to put mall
Santas in their places.
A bitter hint
of quiet bliss
between Granny’s
angry welcome.
“I HATE THE HOLIDAYS!”
The joys
of many naughty
girls and boys.
We never know
what the New Year
will bring,
but we’ll always have
grumpy guys who cringe
to the aggravated beat
of Christmas songs on repeat.
The memory is likely askew
to children bathed in blue.
The lather of bubble bath shampoo.
A time when hearts were lighter.
The worst worry was losing toys
to an infinite void.
A shouting match over
broken small soldiers
who made their way
into father’s feet.
Sorry Dad,
I just had
to be on the right side of scrutiny
in manufactured battles
which rattle the brain:
And the puddles, and the rain
of tears were not in vain.
The boy just didn’t know
how dangerous
a toy soldier could be.
He’ll never leave a toy
on the floor
or experience the joy
of battles well won.
On occasion he might
just relive the plight
of Dad being heard
amongst the herd
of flying bees.
He won’t get stung
but he’ll shout
as if the entire hive
had him cornered
and he couldn’t forest
for dear life.
Self-care unaware,
blind faith
breaks boundaries
between guidance
and imperfection.
Maslow’s Theory.
Social esteem
to redeem
a physiological need
of confidence and
conviction.
Living to your full
potential,
acceptance and
appreciation.
Forgiveness is a process
where you may
have to count your losses.
A step away,
the ability to say,
“That’s Okay.”
Self is acknowledged
in the best of apologies-
full of insecurities.
You can’t fail yourself
if you never let yourself
down to begin with.
The decision is yours,
give or take
a much needed break.
Hopelessness
is the accumulation
of cobwebs
in your head.
The emptiness
is filled with
dust and debris.
No thought
to fill the void.
So I hold my breath
and blow the dirt
back into the corners
where it belongs.
I have the control,
the will to say no
to hopelessness.
What was it like to be you?
Responsibility,
compassion, confusion,
quickly learned
and balanced into equilibrium.
Inebriation stole your intellect once again.
I find myself standing in the shadow
to hide my lack of faith in you.
I won’t tell a tall tale
or hide the puppet’s fate.
The Truth Spills Out
in the manner you create.