Best Crutch Poems
Nothing more than a crutch is what the sceptics say,
A weakling, softy, Christian in Christ we must obey.
Have I got news for those who haven’t got a clue?
It’s sad to think they do not know, the word of God is true.
Apparently they’ve never heard the price some had to pay,
Apostle Paul and countless others were tortured every day.
They never found a crutch, or wanted out at any time,
But kept on trusting Jesus by faith, the only joy and
Peace one can ever find.
A crutch the last thing a real Christian would ever need,
Just a close relationship, not religion, daily on His word
We feed.
We are hard pressed, ridiculed, rejected on every side,
But eager to sacrifice everything, not to lean on a crutch
Believing God’s report, only in Him and Him only
We can abide.
Helper for heartbreak's dissipation
Coat of slick paint covers pain
His younger hair longer temptation
Gives dead Romeo fresh frame
Travel miles along Australia's coast
Brought assailed soldier to me
Astringent ginger kisses Kylie ghost
Instant skin soothe of proximity
Tersely told stories, recently passed
Undo injury of passion's abort
Urge rapid recovery, characters cast
Script for infant territory taught
27th January
Cathartic Cleanse
(He chose name Katherine)
I try to fight it
I try to forget it
It used to be my comfort zone
Now it has lost it's luster
For my eyes have awoken
Yet in time of weakness
It still pulls me in
This artificial safety
Is like a drug
It brought back my innocence
When there was no responisbility
And stress didn't exist
Before everything fell apart
Oh what i would offer
To feel what i felt then
Priceless
However,
I have leaned on my crutch
Longer than i should
Everyday of every moment
I try to fight it
I try to forget it
This past of mine
Won't let me go
Flooded veins, broiling anger
Lost at home, talking to strangers
I come to cross roads
That have no name
Conquering obsessions,
Never ending game
Emotion, a rusted chain
Forgiven, not worth saving
Defeat, I kneel to no man
Obsolete, manufactured again
Wonder wasted
Completely inebriated
Slowed reaction
Sense terminated
Spirits sight
Beer-goggled delight
Grounded, never to take flight
Another soul has been set free
Trying to be all it can be
Which in reality isn't much
Another cripple on a broken crutch
Slowly trying to make his way
Through the trials of another day
Through my pen energy is spent
As I try to circumvent
I search for ways to relate
I was once so full of hate
I hated God for taking my mother
The fact I was the forgotten brother
I hated the poverty I grew up in
Then I truly learned of hatred in the pen
I rose to the top of the hatred pool
Took pride in being a home-boy fool
Just as a mother pulls her baby to her breast
I blasted my hatred all over my chest
I took love and hate placed them on a scale
I weighed out heaven and weighed out hell
I suddenly became overwhelmed with shame
As I realized that I had gone insane
For it became clear as clear could be
The only thing I truly hated was me
The last time I walked out the prison gate
I stopped and shook off all my hate
Praise God and the power from above
My heart and soul were filled with love
I came home and started to rebuild my life
Was taught how to love by my loving wife
I learned to love my neighbors regardless of creed
Offer my assistance to anyone in need
If your battling hatred heed what I say
It's a hell of a price for a soul to pay
Take your hatred and go to the mirror
Ask of the Lord, "Help me see clearer"
For hatred is just like any other sin
It's not external it's born with - in
You will discover a joy like no other
As you learn to love yourself then your brother
Another soul has been set free
I'm trying to be all I can be
Which in reality isn't much
Another cripple on a broken crutch
This poem is dedicated to Milton Hemsted who
carried himself in such a way that in the most racial
of environments I found myself with no choice but
to love and respect that man. He broke down my racial
barriers and taught me to love my Lord, myself and my
neighbor. I hope someday we will get to meet again
as free men. Love & respects Milton.
I apologize if I have offended anyone and for the
man I once was. God bless
Was the one
redeeming feature
a peg
to hang
a poem on
enough of a crutch
to justify
a life.
My hands are always shaking,
but never from the cold.
My heart is always racing,
from secrets never told.
I'm always out of breath my dear,
but not from the lack of air.
My eyes are always aching,
Because I can't avert my stare.
Its a deep and painful need,
I can't control the way I feel.
I will keep on going,
until I feel something real.
My throat is always parched and dry,
but not for need of water.
I'm nervous, like an animal,
waiting for the slaughter.
I feel a deep and hungry ache,
for your hands, your mouth, your touch.
It carries me, and it cripples me,
my sweet and painful crutch.
It eats me frrom the inside out,
and yet it carries me through.
I won't give in, and I won't give out,
until I get my hands on you.
My crutch, it carries me, it carries me through.
My crutch, it carries me, it carries me through.
My crutch, it carries me, it carries me through.
And my crutch, it cripples me, cause i'm still sad,
alone,
and blue....
if you run out of
interesting things to say,
smile and make small talk.
crutch
can i lean against you?
crutch
you can always lean against me
you know that... right?
like the sky in my mind
you envelope me at night
when the world is all too much
crutch, i'm only human
god is messing with my head
or he hasn't heard a thing i've said
nevertheless
he's answered sometimes
and asking for his help was useless
so crutch
i'll never ask much
just a place to hang my head
and maybe a tear or two
hopefully i'll never have to cry over losing you
We all sin
I sin
You sin
Everyone is a sinner
A sin is a sin is a sin
There’s no way to win
Your actually guilty before you begin
So how do you actually get a reprieve?
To acquire the salvation
You wish to receive
The game is rigged
And not in your favor
What depravity may I offer you?
What’s your flavor?
Many choices to be had
Mix and match your wickedness
Custom made immorality for the mad
Smoke, drink, inject and snort
Can I have some more? Is the retort
Mind numbing at it’s best
Gimme, Gimme, Gimme,
No time to rest
Gotta get high
I must confess
My blanket
My shield
My sanctuary
Sobriety is quite contrary
To my goal
Of being numb, dumb, and resistant to succumb
So, don’t bother trying to save me you fool
The drugs are my tool
And reality is my school
Follow the line of the diseased mind
You may find it to be kind
If not, a monotonous grind
Welcome to the cognitive bind
Eric (and sometimes not)
Friendship
‘tis so truly special
How very lucky am I
To have found
a dear friend
Who is there
when I need her
If life becomes
such
need
proverbial crutch
For be sure
she will always
answer her door
Where she can be found
With a kiss
and a hug
Thus my worries end
Thanks to my best friend
But at times
I need just a little bit more
With her positive vibes
she dries tears from my eyes
As we sip on a cuppa
or a glass of white wine
So happy together
~~~
Best friends forever
Written 2023
A BRIAN STRAND PREMIERE no 1222
Parroting the scriptures,
won many admirers,
on the cocktail circuit
but offered not the taste,
of truth the words affirmed.
Parroting the scriptures,
trapped soul in lower mind,
afraid to walk the talk,
interpreting symbols,
held in rigid belief.
Parroting the scriptures,
failed to erase heart’s fear,
since there was talk of sin,
wrath of an unknown god
and a deep sense of guilt.
Parroting the scriptures,
then discarding this crutch,
rekindling innocence,
the childlike heart blossomed,
becoming love and light.
I’ve written now a thousand Poems,
in search of just that one
Each word to slay the demon time,
each phrase my soul undone
I’ve come so close a hundred nights,
to see but not to touch
Then left to limp between the lines,
—their failure now my crutch
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)
Don’t blame it on me
I gave you a warning
It was clear to see
I don’t intend on hurting people
It just sorta happens
It’s like a skill trait
Or a debate
They all see but no clappin
Everyone around me is hurt in a way
Say i ignored you
Or called you dumb
Or said throw your shoes away
I’m not sure what makes me do it
If it's something deep inside
But i can stop
Just need to prove it
So I dig until it hides
I know him I can tell you who it is
It’s some other me
I promise
I can tell by his-
Hm what was i saying
Confused loss of thought
Is this a game that i’m playing?
Am I a christian?
For a second I sorta thought I was praying
Like I looked up to see the foot of my bed.
Not only that
But it wasn’t I
It was some other me instead
Did I hit my head?
Because the other me is laughing
And not at something else
But it is pointed directly at me
He’s sad
Crying
He doesn’t even seem happy
The laughter was fake
A cover of some sort
But it wasn’t fake at all
It’s his crutch
His support
I've been on crutches for 15 years now
And one might think it gets easier with time,
it doesn't,but luckily where I'm at now
I'm okay with the passing time, I'm in it to have a good time
Less time worrying about my next move
When I can, I just watch over my steps
So that I don't make a wrong move
Cause I'm afraid to fall down the steps
Cause with every fall breaks down my spirit
Spirit to go out in the world and try again
Cause I wear my mind and spirit
In worry cause I've got scars that still pain
My elbows are sore from using my crutch
My palms are hard from holding on
But because I can't let go I clutch,
onto it hoping that I'll still have it on
I've been on crutches for so long
That that's the first thing I pick up when I wake up
So that I'm able to stand strong
And work my way on the ladder of life, all the way up
The PO£T