Opening the door onto your secret,
my heart pounds at the display of old wounds.
Healing achieved by clinging to nothing—
a future only obliquely glimpsed.
My heart pounds at the display of old wounds
where other’s careless words and barbs had pierced.
A future only obliquely glimpsed
through a whiskey bottle nearly empty.
Where other’s careless words and barbs had pierced,
going through life like that makes one anxious.
Through a whiskey bottle nearly empty,
discontent is always triggered by something.
Going through life like that makes one anxious;
healing achieved by clinging to nothing.
Discontent is always triggered by something—
opening the door onto your secret.
There's a stuffed animal
that sits in the kid's
corner of the coffee shop
closest to my house.
It seems like a dog,
but it's wrapped head
to tail in what appear
to be bandages.
A mummified canine.
I used to think
this oddity was a bizarre
choice for a kid's toy,
but I think I understand it
now.
Behind the screen
of a body cast, he's
a chocolate lab,
or a rusty dachshund,
a rabbit-chasing greyhound,
or your childhood dog Annie.
Its tangential existence
dependent on the brain
that picks him up.
For me, he's actually
a cat, gone undercover
and every time I pass him,
I whisper "Godspeed, brother,
your secret is safe with me."
The intelligence men evince
Is what should others convince
That they have been working hard since,
Now and again, from sure pains wince;
Not Radiance of the king's Clarence:
The White Dependent on Black Prince
But Legendary Night Nurse Florence
Whose story still place hands on chins...
The intelligence we evince
Should make us, if need be, words mince,
To, later, our stained lips rinse:
Like Death-dodging Galileo had,
Not ashamed to sing like a lad...
all this while
I had been knocking at your door
waiting for you to traverse the space
from your locked room to the door front
take the keys from the door side table
and let me in
and all this while
in being the knocker
I forgot to lock my home
the doors were wide ajar
the windows un-hatched,
you’d raided all of it.
Don't be dependent on anything
Feel it use it but be wise
What is sweet kills easily
The sweeter the killer
Feel it use it but be wise
Don't be carried away
By the sweetness of life
Life is sweet but it need control
Self control matters
If truly you need to grow up
Feel it use it but be wise
Something must sure kill a man
So live before you die
Life wait for no one
Feel it use it but be wise
What ever you do
Be in charge of your situation
Every situation you face
Needs an attention from you
So be in a good shape and let
Not yourself be loose for vanity
Feel it use it but be wise
Smoke it
Drink it
But be sure to be happy
After each encounter
Cos if your happiness is attached
To materialism
I tell you the trust
You are far away from the satisfaction of nature
So For the sake of your valuable life
Don't be dependent on anything
Be more clear
And move on
In life
Nothing can stop you
But only yourself
Sweet when it's convenient
Taste as I'm obedient
Starve me like when I'm too busy to come home and feed my cat for a day, She will live
Love me when I'm near and forget me when I'm far, yet I am the distant one
The dependent one
The one who can't sleep at night as I pray for scraps
Just a symbol, I don't even need words, yet the later would sing like birds
Speaking of my cat, I ask her if I'm crazy
No reply
I check for you
No reply
I let my heart tumble down my ribcage and hit every ledge on its overly dramatic fall
And then you call
Being Dependent Upon
Jesus, His Source.
By: Tom Wright
9/28/98
The stranger at the well,
having a broken vessel,
sides and top,
Related to me his story
and could not stop.
I come to draw this water
not to store,
But to drink as needed daily
to quench my thirst.
Always returning at other times
to drink the more,
Often drinking until I fear
I'll burst.
With vessel new,
I came but thrice a week.
Then with regret
and showing great remorse,
Said now this broken vessel
that you see.
Keeps me from ever straying,
from my Source.
Being Dependent Upon
Jesus, His Source.
By
Tom Wright
9-28-1998
The stranger at the well,
having a broken vessel,
sides and top,
Related to me his story
and could not stop.
I come to draw this water
not to store,
But to drink as needed daily
to quench my thirst.
Always returning at other times
to drink the more,
Often drinking until I fear
I'll burst.
With vessel new,
I drank but thrice a week.
Then with regret
and showing great remorse,
Said now this broken vessel
that you see.
Keeps me from ever straying,
from my Source.
Everywhere she goes the grass is greener
And all the time I doze in my misdemeanor
Her eyes can make the sun come out
And I have fun just wandering about
When the sky is dark and the ground all mucky
She lays on the ground as if she's lucky
In spite of all my meaningless fear
She can make it all but adhere
There in the unknown am I
And she steps in without the bat of an eye
In the midst of the end
She can make all the bad disappear
Loneliness is nothing when I am with her
For she is absolute and sure
But dependency can only get one so far
And it is toxic to what we are
When she is gone
I am nothing
For united we stand
Divided I fall
When I came to the end of me
and stopped trying to fix it by myself mentality
in desperation I would cry out to my Father
hoping that He would answer when He saw me now on my knees.
For if I chose to humble myself
under the mighty hand of God
and I did come with meekness humility and petition His mercy
and He remembered that I was after all by His own blood bought!
I could not therefore try to pretend or to fool Him
by my thoughtless words and prayers
as He knew my thoughts and the desire of my heart
yet, He would still for me truly care.
So I stopped therefore trying to change myself and situations
for it would truly only be a temporary sham
it will not last and others would know this change was not for real causing needless humiliation because He truly does have for me a very great plan.
It was time therefore, to die to myself and repent and
totally surrender all of my life and my will to Him
because it is after all the only Way of a successful walk
is to love and live totally dependent on Him.
Written by: Marilyn S. Jennings
April 1, 1995
Picture a man and a woman naked side by side,
chains wrapped loosely around their necks
attached not to each other, but to the familiar horned beast that towers over them.
To others it appears obvious they could easily abdicate, however the couple does not view the same landscape
They stay comfortably bound to the monster they recognize
what may come to their surprise
they are their own adversary and their own allies
rather than escaping habit they CHOOSE to stay enslaved
not living but surviving, one foot in the grave.
Its not that they are unable ,they know they can be free
they are just so accustomed to not being able to breathe.
They are hoping that they can illustrate their own reality,
create their own light, dreaming of freedom
whilst still believing the chains are skin tight.
The only way to define it is
Co-dependent confinement
The earth off it's axis
The planets out of alignment
all this time spent in silence
of my constant reliance
I'm in need of some guidance
out of your hypnotic trance
at first glance
the roads all lead to pain
I'm too used to being a dispensable pawn
in your twisted chess game
what do you have to gain
if I remain the same
what if i change
and go up in flames?
I hang from the strings I tied to you
that I’m too afraid to cut;
too afraid to tug on
when you can’t feel my weight.
I'll cut myself some slack,
only for you to pluck at them once more.
The strings are thinning out;
I'm thinning out.
Please do not let the strings break,
for I break with them.
Emotions, carried by the wind,
Get through the mind,
Accumulate in heart - make me dependent.
Looking out the window
The skies look gloomy
Feeling empty inside
Screaming out in silence
Unhappy with this companion
Felt like I bare you in this world
Your presence feel like labor pains
Leaning on me, I need an epidural shot
Your complaining bring another contraction
Your conversation burn a hole in thoughts
Depending on me make me feel wanted
But, it's too late you think I'm your mother
You no longer look at me as your lady
I let this codependency go on to long
Pray you don't walk out on me
depend on me
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