I am the hypocritical Christian.
I say I follow Christ,
But I'm still consumed by my demons.
I go to church on Sunday,
But I refuse to invite someone back.
I want to serve on mission,
But I'm too afraid to act.
They think I read The Bible,
But I just fall asleep in it.
They think I'm positivity and smiles,
But underneath I'm death and addictions.
They think I'm clean and pure,
But I'm broken and mistaken.
I say I'm not worthy of His love,
But Jesus will never let me be forsaken.
I pray long prayers,
But inside they're empty repetition.
It might look as if my faith is strong,
But my core is too easily shaken.
I say the things I'm supposed to say,
But don't follow His actions or obey.
I speak the truth the church wants to hear,
But deep inside on matters I don't know what to believe.
I walk in shame as if I'm not good enough
To be loved by God and saved through Christ,
But there is nothing I could ever do to earn His peace;
It's a free gift.
Now forgiven, changed, and released.
Thank You God,
Thank You Jesus,
Thank You Holy Spirit!
In Jesus' Holy Name,
Blowing through a vast crevasse –
from whirling tempest;
to calming balm on wounded skin;
to constant howl;
to sunlit kiss, onto warm lips –
I am a promise,
to the girl who waits,
within the cave, where no light shines;
where sucking blackness and decay
consumes and claws across
the barren expanse that is –
My inner child’s mind.
Little Kristin, girl of 7
(when time stopped)
suspended upon a bony pillar, sits,
engulfed by craggy mountain walls –
The cave of sorrows.
A black pit surrounds the tower,
held hostage by those who would keep her silent;
(protecting the illusion at all costs)
and as silent as the fear that creeps up
the lone pillar,
(coming for the light in her eyes)
killing slowly, methodically,
attacking light –
the light that creeps through cracks;
breaks through holes;
breathes life into darkness –
(minions of death vying to stay her shine).
Her holly-hobby night gown
(full of broken dreams)
tattered and torn,
crowns her dirty little feet.
A grayed white gag, beneath soiled cheeks –
(like apples, they used to say)
blackened by yesterday,
save for the dappled light that shines,
from green eyes –
just a glimpse…
A tiny flame flickers, within small hands –
(holding what was stolen)
keeping the beasts at bay...
(lighting a Mother’s way)
They say I was everything to the one in the photographs –
The light giver.
Her battery drained,
(strength offered to the shining moon)
Eradicated, liberated (grace or fear?)
Strength was my gift born
from her weakness -
my birthright, and soul’s mantra.
My soul was God’s gift -
was her gift –
I am battery doubled.
No more am I dirty black holes
hiding in shadow,
For I am wind…
I am nowhere,
I am past, present and future.
My soul is freedom blowing through the cracks
left by the black maker (innocence taker);
into my darkest depths;
holding the little girl (lost, no more) –
kissing her face;
drying her tears;
leaving the cave -
carrying my child home.
Together we light
the ancient halls,
Where I am the light maker now.
Winding my way from heaven to
kissing the nose’s of my five reasons
My soul is wind
from the heaven’s,
and these are the gifts
that my soul
Struggling to be part
Of your affectionate heart
But nothing to expect.
Searching my share of
Fragments with your mind stuff
Still longing for whiff.
Oh this life always
Mingling with equal heartaches
Destined to be parted ways.
Whether this thing exists
I still be longing with tears
My existence persist with tests.
Rushing biddable thoughts
All the years with struggles
Misdeeds cause bitterness.
Why aren’t we happy?
What is it in the most of us?
We are not how we should be
We should be like a singing bird
Who boldly, in the trees
Sings his song when fear is done
His life just flows along
He only knows the dance of life
So he just sings his song.
And yet we humans live our lives
Enfolded in our fears
Glorifying in the sad
And making this quite clear
As we always speak of doom and gloom
And watch it on TV
And always live our lives in fear
Is this the way it should be?
If only each would take a look
And see just what we be
We never see the flowers grow
Or let our hearts be free
Maybe it’s time to see the truth
Of what this life could be
If we look at life without the fear
And live with mystery.
6 August 2013 @ 1908hrs.
Clumsy days and hazy nights
Haunting and bring me tears
I should stop perturbing
Whilst my heart still whipping
Wrath of nature is just reflection
Of my fragments that created imprints
Within my being that stands steadfast
Even in the darkest days of my existence.
by Amy Swanson
Running to me
with big hugs
and even bigger brown eyes
smile full of mischief
arms thrown around my neck
--- almost choking me!---
"I love you Mommy!"
my little "Long-Legs"
how fast you have grown.
Almost as tall
as your short mama
*but then that wouldn't take much*
remembering a time
when my little Long-Legs
... my long-legged girl...
had little bitty
just learning how to toddle around the house
crawling faster than I could walk
running to keep up with her...!...
purple baby food plums smeared across a happy smiling mouth
full of giggles
with no idea how cruel this world can be;
Oh how time flies.
She's nine next week
toddler toys long gone;
she wants a bike
so she can ride like the wind --
already the taste of freedom in her mouth
already the feel of freedom in her spirit
away from me.
But she knows
I will always
*and, somehow, forever*
watch over my little girl
even when she is no longer little.
She smiles at me
teeth slightly crooked
hair brushed all by herself
and asks "Do you like my style?"
already planning her fashion agenda
like every "big girl" does.
My almost-nine year old girl
born on lucky clover day
March 17th, 2000
the day she changed my life
so grown up, so soon...
and I know more is on the way.
What I don't know
is how this mother's heart will fare
when one day she leaves.
You make my life complete
full of tickles and giggles
I love you so,
my little Long-Legs.
Peace to all of the inhabitants within and without the universe
Respect to all existence both stagnant and dynamic
No desire to understand only to observe and appreciate
Those who’ve sought understanding have greatly misunderstood
They intend to change (upgrade) and will inevitably spike altercation
Disrupting and forever corrupting universal equilibrium
Effort to become God the creator and healer of all is the cause of disruption
Persevering disabling efforts to be God with the determination of correction is the cause of infinite corruption – the effect of cyclical disruption
“____ heals all wounds”
No human is able to fix
We are only able to use
An attempt to restore is abuse
“____ heals all wounds”
Digging in my heels I’m ready to run, onward I go with my back to the rising sun
Shadow demons be gone pester me not, I’ll run so fast that you’ll soon be forgot
Newly reborn with no sign of a savior, renouncing the old ways desolate behavior
Forged in fathoms of what could have been, not knowing how not knowing when
My legs tighten I take off in the sand, in search of tomorrow in search of new land
Burning back from the sweltering heat, blisters echo my pain in my pounding feet
Relentless I run from my shoes I break free, running as fast as I can to my destiny
Dried out earth slowly turns green, desert skies of red turn a blue and white serene
Grass under foot a new way is found, no longer am I tethered no longer am I bound
Freedom calls to me bellowing from within, where will it end where should it begin
Breaking the summit confident I leap, my dreams my desires these things I will keep
Diving down toward the crystal river, no more regret no more fear not even a sliver
Splashing down into the waters cleanse, my conviction is what my success depends
Swimming to the shore naked to the sun, it’s my time to rebuild my time has begun
Mighty strong nation
Truth be told
I am not sold
On the lies that be
I hope you take no offense to me
Open your eyes
The revolution will not be televised
Open your eyes
The revolution will not be deterred by lies
I can’t give up a little freedom for safety
That would be weakly
That would be hasty
Fight for the truth to be brought
To the light
Put your fists up and fight
It’s not about the color of your skin
It’s about freedom in this country we live in
To be a revolutionary
Is to be considered a radical extremist!
Don’t get caught up in the lies
Just open your eyes
I do not know?
the sailing boats sit by the shore,
anchored there, they stay a while.
hours, days, or weeks ahead,
they'll sail soon, not fore'er idle.
the sailing boats sit for a time
until the drivers ready let them go.
they'll go and go for miles and weeks
until needed rest they show.
the sailing boats do stay at shore
but always find freedom to flee.
am i like the sailing boats,
or shall i ne'er sail off free?
shall i be docked for always
at the bay of broken dreams?
my anchor's touched the ocean floor,
i'm stuck on shore, it seems.
the freedom to flee is no freedom of mine -
of the sailing type i'm not.
i am a docked boat, ever stalled,
i don't sail with the fleeing lot.
but even the docked boats eventually sail.
my waiting time is at an end.
i want to go and go for miles and years
and, until i'm done, not dock again.
the sailing boats will stay at sea
for they've the freedom to go.
i am like the docked boats sailing,
and much sailing i've got to do.