Keeping it Real

Keeping It Real

I have been designed many times:
who I am
who I should be 
who I was meant to be.
But none asked  
what I am to me
what I was meant to be
or what I see in me.

They count the years
and fuel my fears
with their unasked for expectations.
No one seems willing
for me to be me -
They will say they do-

      There is the lie.

They can't handle the truth of me.
And so they see what they want to see
the maddening fever of their mirage.
they polish up and shine
the me they designed
and leave me to languish,
on the shelf.
There I sit
after having been split
by good intentions
and kind words,
struggling to reassemble myself
while you nurture a leprechaun elf.

I Try and Compose Myself

I Try and Compose Myself

I stay still
and pray for the will
to keep myself together.
The more I try
to shut my eyes
A little piece of me
falls away 
like the burnish autumn leaves.
Silently too like an old banshee
I scream from the fright
of what this could mean.
Layer after layer melted in a scurry
while I sat nervously
fretting and sweating with worry - 
what could this mean?

As each layer continues to fall away - 
to de-compose
and expose -
What I see,
is a deep down rawness
of a tale no one knows - 
not even me.

Pure Faith

Pure Faith

I stand on a mountain
covered compeltely.
Unable to see
I stand still
for God's degree.
I don't know what is ahead
but I know what I left behind:
a tratious mob
shouting for my decline,
masked transient beings
who seem true and real
until you check your progress
and realise
they were always a part of your ordeals.
So here I have come
to see what I will become
when I step off the edge,
 die to fear
and live in pure faith.

Grace Untold

Grace Untold

I was trapped in hell
a decade now,
did you not know?
There, the demented fire licked 
at chasm wounds 
tore at softened bones
melting like the liquid
lava river I passed by.

As I clawed my way out
across cracked desert floors,
I lost a few things
but I got back my soul.

From that treacherous escape
to the light
I had to wrestle,
and defeated the demons
of the night.

On shredded legs I ran
like a lightning bolt
thanking God.

One day perhaps,
when I have gotten old
I will find the words to write
of victory won
and grace untold.

The Gratitude Journal

The Gratitude Journal

I want to say I'm grateful,
for this life
for my many things
for my many friends
and for my many family

But also,
a slow Sunday afternoon
sunlight glistening 
on dark and rich skin
life breathe
and out
eyes to see
nose to smell
a shelter where I can dwell...

sadness that brings joy
sun to chase away the storms
ignorance that births wisdom
mistakes and failures that nip me awake
and escape
 the destruction that awaits
just around the corner...

Most of all,
I thank God
for the gift of gratitude
that rewards with beatitudes.

The Sinner

The Sinner

I am the bride
In whiteI am filled with pride
I cannot be touched
because God loves me so much
I have no sins to hide.

So you use religion as a crutch
But you I know by your lust,
depraved mind which makes you blind
to the incremental nature of your soul's decline
with each monstrous tide.

How dear you!
With your limited view
tell me about sin.
There is no fault within
and if so it is not for you to spin
my sins back into the light.

You both are wrong 
and rather bold,
to think you can either of you
speak truth
when still you are tainted from within
by that corrupted man that loves sin.



All is vanity!
The world is a cesspool 
of vanity.
What does it profit a man
to gain paper that vanishes?
 all is a wasteland of vanity.
Walk the path set before you
look neither left nor right
least you stumble
lacking insight.
the babes are lambs to the slaughter,
future sons and daughter
lost to vanity.
All that is before you
vanishes on a breath
breathing death of temporance
when faced with timely delays.
know this,
the golden trappings of bliss
shimmers like fool's gold.