I look at the ID, caller unknown.
Do I answer this clone?
In every interaction, it feels more like a
distraction.
Trying to gain traction. But my heart says,
infraction.
Entering this dead zone, my soul goes prone.
Disconnection, a lack of objection. Cracking smiles
and jokes.
But it's a means to cope.
Should I just hang from a rope?
This disconnection is my trope.
I need some help, or perhaps some hope.
My humanity is blurred, send me to the psyche ward.
These emotions don't falter.
God the father, how can I be a father?
The day my baby boy was born, Hearing of men breaking
down when their babies are born.
For me, not a smile adorns.
On the day his mother was torn.
Is there something wrong with me?
Seems like I'm dead.
My pulse is flatlined. Such dread.
Forgive me of my jealousy, those unlike me, seem
like heresy.
I have no desire, talking and joking.
Feels like choking.
An obligation.
Social distortion, my disconnection.
It bothers me that it doesn't bother me.
What is wrong with me?
But if it didn't bother me, then why do I need to
write this poetry?
Using excuses, deflect my diagnosis.
Lack of time in this mind of mine.
Perhaps there is no lapse. God is always with me.
Isaiah 41:10
Jesus is besides us, forever our companion.
Always believed in us.
To the point he died for us.
There are days, estranged from everyone.
Deranged from caring for one.
Just like Job, feels like a job.
Jesus, will you heal me?
Jesus, do you hear me?
In every interaction, it feels more like a distraction. Trying to gain traction.
But my heart says infraction.
Entering this dead zone, my soul goes prone.
Disconnection, a lack of objection.
I look at the I.D.
Caller unknown.
Do I answer this clone?
Nagging, this feeling is gagging.
Late up at night, video games, right?
Phone screen glaring, all those videos you're staring?
How about those beers? While you forget to steer.
Did you have pre-marital sex with your ex?
Maybe it was a stranger, that your eyes would linger.
Perhaps it was a drug of your choice.
So high, you lost your voice.
A common habit, eating excessive food to fill your
mood? Your stomach is screwed.
Whatever the cause, in the end, it was only a pause.
The devil has you in his dirty paws.
Making you do foolish things. Pulling on your strings.
An empty feeling, it makes you reeling.
Shackled to bed, imprisoned.
Those lonely nights that depression commissioned.
This desire of wanting, belonging to something.
A brotherhood, partner, or group.
You're not alone. We've all endured that dark tone.
Including myself.
Late nights of video games, excess food from the kitchen, pornography addiction.
I needed an interdiction.
Years of this sinful lonely living, depression giving.
Feeling the effects, of parental separation.
Death, felt like better segregation.
I felt empty, as a husband and father.
Life felt like it only got farther.
It wasn't until he pulled me, from this desperation.
That my soul began, realization.
That hopeless void I felt for so long?
This need to feel like I belong.
Finally filled with what I needed all along.
Jesus.
Call it cliche, dismay your excuse to pray.
Sway your friends to play.
Or because you think, you're a stray.
But at the end of the day.
You feel empty, because you choose not to pray.
Take time to learn God.
Pick up the bible and start a cycle.
The Lord will fulfill your empty landfill.
Free from the nagging.
Psychological gagging.
You've tried all these distractions.
They yielded nothing but infractions.
What do you have to lose? If you try reading
about Jesus' actions.
Read into Him.
Give in to Him.
Open your heart.
The Lord will organize your life chart.
But just like this poem, rhyming about empty
chiming.
The path of our Lord and savior, is a narrow one.
When you follow the chosen son.
Mathew 7:13-14.
So, what will you do?
Choose your path.
The numbers ticking, I feel my life force ripping.
My soul draining.
Tick tick ticking.
I wish I could be a kid again; it wasn't so complicated back then.
Can I get an amen?
But if that were so, another divorce to witness sow.
Time was our only enemy, waiting on an epiphany.
Celebration of our birth, silly strings, spooky things.
Gift wrap reflecting, Christmas nap obsessing.
What I'd give, to relive nostalgia.
It was simplistic, but these thoughts are unrealistic.
A fairytale addiction, our past is now fanfiction.
I understand it now, but it may be too late.
A future forgotten grave.
Make use of our time, for the days are evil.
Ephesians, 5:15-16.
Days gone by, faster we die.
Months and years, generating more fears.
24 hours, work half.
Tick tick. It makes me sick.
The numbers are ticking, I can feel my life force ripping, my soul is draining.
Tick tick ticking.
Look at my son, yesterday born. Today you're four foot four.
I'm torn.
Gaze at my wife, over ten years of strife.
I thank god for her, none of it was a blur.
It all feels like yesterday, life's been a fray.
Memories fresh like yesterday, another birthday.
But they're all dust and webs, lost in the deep web.
Cherish gods gifts, the life that you lift?
Before it's all gone in a whiff.
God's gift, time. Appreciation yet contemplation.
New but old, old but new.
What feels forever is now never, something that god doesn't promise.
Eternity.
Pray and hold faith, I say.
Thank Jesus for the moments of today.
Tomorrows past? It doesn't last.
It's all fleeting, our hearts are bleeding.
Once the day is paid, a new day you trade.
Thank you for banking with time, your new balance?
A lifetime.
Debt not relieved, until Death you perceive.
The numbers are ticking, I can feel my life force ripping. My soul, is draining.
Tick tick ticking.
Paralyzed, time is venom.
Not ready to get older, death getting bolder.
Jesus coming closer.
Mathew 24:30.
Never too late, until it is too late.
Your final date.
No time to debate, you need to appreciate and contemplate.
Accept your fate.
For time waits on no man, sorry ma'am neither you.
I wish it would stop, clock hand ending at the top.
I need to grow more crop.
Lasting fruit, John 15:16.
Where will I be in another fifteen?
I'm not ready to go, nor am I ready to grow.
I just want to be a child again.
Simpler times back then.
Make time stop.
Amen.
Worn thin, worn thin. Down to the bed.
Wake up tired in my bed, I'm feeling dead.
Doubts whispering inside my head. Like treads rolling on midnight threads.
Blinding light, debating on driving into them.
End of night.
Arrive on site, another job. Dead end right?
Not a surprise, then morning rise.
Back on the threads rolling the black treads.
Dim blue, the cars few.
My eyes are heavy, I almost hit a Chevy.
Back home, feels alone. Home alone.
Wake my son, school. No fun.
Homeschooled these days, real school makes real fools.
Lack of sleep, I want to weep.
My son senses this irritable creep.
He's nervous, anxious. He wants to retreat.
Look at his nails, worn thin like trails.
Down to the bed, toe to head.
Just a child, reeling from this anxiety.
End of lesson, back to sleep. Cue the depression.
Nightmarish suppression, spiderwebs entangle.
Like a noose, I dangle.
Suffocation.
I beg for the Lords provocation.
Seeing his response, set me free. Let me be.
Like so many others I scream, why me?
Worn thin, worn thin. Down to the bed, my sons nails.
The bed of my bones, I'm not in my zone.
I just feel alone.
I awake, another night I quake.
Nine inch nails, I see the future.
Each day the same, nine inch jail.
Boxed in, I'm claustrophobic.
Tired of living like this, it's diabolic.
Terminated, eliminated, without work.
Your death at work.
American Dream, nothing more than a pipe dream.
No job, too many times I can no longer sob.
Getting a job is harder, than getting a gun.
Only car, repossessed.
Our material wealth we obsessed.
Nearly homeless, it's practically goalless.
I need my life changed, it's making me deranged.
Free me, so I can be unchained.
I look to my bible, give me revival.
Psalms 1:07-14
Like so many others, we are struggling and juggling.
The excessive problems are suffocating.
Will this get easier? This world's an eater.
It's teeth, gnashing and clashing.
Snapping and chopping, consuming.
Thirty years in, my life is in constant strife.
I am bleeding from its knife.
No respite, in this demonic cesspit.
I spit.
This great gift of life, that God granted us?
Twisted by sin.
Worn thin, worn thin.
Lord I pray, bless this day.
Myself and those listening, we are all worn thin.
Down to the bed of our bones.
Change this worlds tones, revive us lord.
We must survive this.
Without you God, it's a burnout.
Will it ever turn out?
I pray that it does Lord.
Because I'm worn thin.
James 1:19-20
I wish I could say that I follow these verses.
But it's like a battle. Versus.
Me against anger, and it always makes a wager.
Jackpot.
Egg shells on the floor, my family creep and sneak.
My anger, it watches beneath. Snarling its teeth.
The smallest mistake, fury decides it's time I break.
I'm a felon, with all this yelling and crying.
She's tired of trying.
I feel like dying.
Why god? I pray. Tears in my eyes, anger in disguise.
Of all the emotions, must it be destruction?
Corruption takes over, one of these days it will be all over.
I sit in the dark, tearing myself apart.
Why can't I just have depression, a recession.
Much better, than this heated deflection.
Anger since their separation, is it desperation?
Do I explode, because I want reparation?
Whatever the cause, it's no reasonable clause to lash out with my claws.
I know where I'm wrong, what actions to take and correct mistakes.
But in the heat of the moment, the devil defeats his opponent.
Mathew 4:1-11
I'm lost in a desert, the temper my temptation.
I give into damnation. Hell, my destination.
If I don't solve this wrathful equation.
Anger directed to my wife and son, a crisis unrighteous.
Lord please forgive me, of this hateful virus.
This emotion, holy bible says it's human nature.
But my wrath feels more like a creature.
Living under my skin, waiting to sin.
I'll give anything, this blood boiling.
To be finally rid of its asthmatic coiling.
Save me lord, I'm sick of this toiling.
I'll do anything to suppress this violent abscess.
It's infectious, it pops like an infection.
Bacterial confection.
Save me lord, I'm sick of this conniption.
I feel conviction, the good word when I mention.
But this anger, an anchor deep in my flesh creating all this rancor.
Internal bleeding, my humanity fleeting.
Why can't this beating, begin receding?
My anger, it trespasses like a stranger.
I don't know who I am, what's this emotion?
Not my devotion.
Familiar with wrath, against my hath.
Unfamiliar with the Devils draft.
This cannot be my own.
I don't condone it.
But I can't control it.
It's no excuse, but I refuse.
Lord don't let this consume me.
Just free me, so I can be me.
James 1:19-20
Anger does not produce the righteousness that god desires.
Anger does not produce the righteousness that god desires.
Anger does not produce the righteousness that god desires.
Eight years young, clock gears hung.
Eight o' clock, night silence.
Broken by loud violence.
Clothes strewn across the floor, spewing hate back for more.
Like wild animals, feral. Foaming and gnashing.
My mother bashing.
Broken mirrors, broken home.
I'm another broken soul.
My parents, pushing and shoving.
Using the most slanderous names.
Accusations, this boy doesn't get the proclamations.
A child doesn't sympathize, all they know is to empathize.
Recognize, my families destruction. Childhood obstruction.
A child doesn't understand the accusations, all they want is reclamations.
To have their family whole, reclaim what they stole.
It was stolen from me, like so many others.
The home I grew up in, blew up within.
Friendships, sunken faster than capsized ships.
The light inside me, now blight beside me.
If I knew god then, I wonder if he would have saved us back then?
But my parents violated the rule.
Exodus 20:14
So the devil came to pull.
Separation, family elimination.
Opioid, destructive void.
Seeing him in the gravel, thought it was alcohol fueled.
Rumors and lies, mouths spitting venom.
They were the lord of lies. Belial.
Gone viral.
A plague within my home, much prefer a led tip to the dome.
Unsure who to trust, parents bartered my trust.
A child, so easy to manipulate.
Just sign and date on this trust.
Back and forth in courts, gavel hammers and extorts.
Forced therapy, nothing but atrophy.
A decade of this, a blockade my life.
Change of homes, change of schools with new fools.
Witnessed him, a state of depression.
Beat him, into a state of oppression.
Alone in his apartment, dark and cold.
Depression, a department.
He worked himself to death, anger slowly filed his breath.
If I could go back, then I'd change track.
Your musical knack, instead of sharing her.
Wouldn't exist, but you didn't deserve life's twist.
Middle school. Stressed, ripped my own hair out.
Bald spot, a dark plot.
Visitations, court orders, long drives of hateful order.
Berated, humiliated, threatened, and intimidated.
I wanted death, for me or for them.
Any thing was better.
Lord forgive me of this letter.
Police station, it was visitation.
Back passenger pickup truck, father hanging on the side with luck.
Mother had pedal to the metal.
Her prison sentence, a few months for his internal bleeding.
Large hemorrhaging.
Each year passed, my smile more crass.
In my eyes less light, sometimes I wanted last light.
Seeing the same, for all my relatives.
Our pain relative.
Too cold to share, no longer cared.
Separation, disconnection, we all fled the discombobulation.
I'm a man now, a family of my own.
Separation in the back of my mind.
I'd rather go blind.
I'll do anything to not see another separation.
Divorce is family execution.
This isn't a letter to catch your better endeavors, money, or sympathy.
It's a warning.
Those of you starting family and marriage, you need to manage.
Selfish endeavors, addiction, or affair.
Creates nothing, but despair.
An impossible repair.
Permanent damage, a scar carved out of the flesh with a knife.
Unseen strife.
Get god in your life.
And hold fast to your wife.
Genesis 2:24
Break the cycle, with the bible.
Get god in your life.
Break the cycle.
Violence and death, I wonder questions of their last breath.
What were their thoughts, in their final moment?
Did they make atonement?
How do they feel, as death becomes bold?
Fear and cold?
Do we think of those, closest to the one who's lost?
The emotional exhaust.
Each year we pass, the violence becomes more crass.
No longer shy of their self, the world is killing itself.
Bloody assassination, in front of thousands, including their children.
Useless causation, that act will surely be their damnation.
Bleeding alone, a death on a train, I can't fathom the pain.
A crimson pool, stabbed by a fool just because of their skin.
We are all kin.
Praying to god in a chapel, only to be cut down as quick as a scalpel.
These days nowhere is safe.
Live streaming his faith, while disabled in a wheelchair.
Just for his death to ultimately be enabled.
Christian believers in Nigeria, butchered it's pure hysteria.
Men, women, and children, all targets by a group.
That claim they're the true religion.
Don't get me wrong, violence has always been strong.
Religious, personal, political, and fanatical.
Death has always been a connoisseur.
But don't forget, the devil is the one who made us his target.
1 Peter 5:8-9.
Let me give you a sign.
Violence is more than ever, because the devil wants our faith to weather.
During this trying time, I pray that you pray.
Don't be Lucifers prey.
Stand strong in your faith while you spread the gospel.
The sins of this world growing colossal.
Some of you see this violence, question gods' benevolence.
Is he even real? What's the deal?
If he's so good, why do bad things happen to the good?
How do children die, in the churches eye?
I wish I could say that I have the knowledge to provide way.
But read Romans 6:23, then look to the beginning of Adam and Eve.
Their sin has removed our protection, from evil and violent destruction.
Not to point fingers, but the First Sin is our curse that lingers.
Now we are exposed to theft, rape, and murder.
Forgive me of my gloomy mutter.
But there is good news, despite the info on these blues.
Read Isaiah 57:1-2
Dear God, what is my purpose? Cause sometimes I feel worthless.
As soon as I freed my womb, salt was thrown right into the wound.
Umbilical cord, tight around my neck, biblical accord.
Ezekiel, 16:4.
Hit list but, Death missed this. Maybe her kiss bliss, if she followed through with this.
Here I am, can I get a witness? I exist, but He forgot that gist. Perhaps, I'm just on a blacklist.
Forgive me, life seems to be nothing but resistive. I need the lord's restorative.
Dear God, why am I still alive? Evil souls around who thrive.
Late in faith, and life. Early in strife. I see the world, how it twirls and curls, lips lift to show its tooth tips.
Nothing I've achieved, despite all that I've received. I let God down, wasting his gifts.
I'm a clown.
My questions unanswered, plans made just to be tampered.
Proverbs, 16:9.
I'm bind, an angel holding me with their nine.
You should just cut my line.
No beat still are my feet.
Flat lined.
Looking forward to the end of my grind.
If you can call it that.
Dear God, forgive my doubt. But life keeps hitting me with clout.
Just like Genesis 4:3-5
Heavy like a stone. Cains ire.
Dripping with my blood but he will never tire.
I'm flat, alone on a highway but my tires are trapped in barbed wires.
No progress, just regress.
Where is the egress?
My world is twisted, like a contortion.
Just like a baby's senseless abortion.
Lord, I don't have a last resort.
The devil comes with his own retort, I hope this isn't my last report.
Dear God, this is my letter, consider it a bloodletter.
My autonomy, ready my phlebotomy.
No direction, it's cause for alarming.
Life seeks my embalming.
Feeling entombed, the world is doomed.
I need to be risen from deep out of this prison.
Romans 10:9, Jesus can make us Be.
But I can't help to feel the end of my spree.
So, I call upon thee, open my eyes God and let me see.
God my life just feels like a demo.
Unfinished and tarnished, swept away in a rush with a brush.
Particles of dust, scattered on the floor like rust.
The smallest breeze, pushing me off into the trees.
These are me decrees, shouting out into the sky.
I'm praying to fly.
Dear God, I pray that this message reaches the right people.
The ones feeling feeble. He can be your strength, push you to great length.
Psalm 46:1.
Listen when I say, despite all the hell, I've made way.
Jesus has never left my stay; he can guide you if you pray.
If you're hearing this poetry and thinking.
"He can't help me, because of my roguery", then read Mathew 9:11-13.
Jesus has been waiting patiently, for the day you break from complacency.
It's time to make a change, surrender yourself to God as your first exchange.
The first step, to make that prep? Bow your head.
And say Dear God.
This is my herald; she's like an emerald.
Her eyes, green as gems.
But gems have price, and she has Christ. Proverbs 31:10
Look upon her, those emerald eyes.
Glowing brighter than the skies.
Middle school, where I lost my vision, look upon her and she's my only vision.
Just like a collision, we crashed together. Love like no other, we piled up forever.
If love was a wreck, then ours yield fatalities would cost a glutenous check, an unpayable debt.
But our love isn't destructive, only constructive.
Each year that passes, our hearts grow in masses.
I want to die with her, our love malignant.
When I am away from her, its chemo persistent.
I thank the lord; he sent me you.
Love like no other, I'll never love another.
I look upon her, emerald eyes, no terrible ties.
No lies, and when I'm with her time flies.
Couldn't love myself, until God crossed our paths.
Starstruck, these bars stuck.
And together, now we are thunder struck.
Emerald eyes, lucid, struck like cupid.
Swimming in that ocean, never lost hearts notion.
The compass is she, no storm that we can't oversee.
We face any adversity of degree, and part the troubles like the Red Sea.
Nothing we can't overcome, I have her and she has me, together we thank God for thee.
Emerald eyes, our souls are tied.
Drunk with love, intoxicated.
This alcohol has me debilitated.
Addiction, to you and all that you do.
I thank God that Love isn't sin, if so, the devil would win.
This is my herald; she's like an emerald.
Verdant and beautiful, like a servant who's bountiful.
He created her, just for me, as if we always were.
We are destined, god's love worked like clandestine.
No coincidence, our love grew without incidents.
I thank God he gave me you.
Back to Proverbs 18:22.
Since we are born, our death is Inevitable.
It comes for us all, one way or another. The end of each other.
Some time, someday, death will say. Come and pray.
We can all relate, for we are all familiar with deaths rate. A Debt eventually paid.
Whether it's a family member trade, your neighbor down the street in their bed they laid, or someone famous finally entered the fade.
It comes for us all in the end, your stature doesn't protect you from reapers send.
Age is not considered, when your soul must be delivered.
Deeds, good nor bad. Still grows the dying seeds.
God's gift of life, that comes with the ultimate strife. Mortal rife.
I speak these words aloud, because I fear the ending shroud.
But not for the reason people think, dying does not make me blink.
It's what comes after, the greatest mystery hereafter.
And what I must leave behind, my family and legacy unbind.
If I even have a legacy to find.
Dying, to never be known. Here lies this stranger. Unknown.
Buried and forgotten, you may as well bury me without a coffin.
No name and no tale, no deed to hail.
A lack of inheritance. My existence lacks evidence.
What do I say, when I stand before God's Way?
Having nothing to show but my faith?
Then I wonder, what if faith isn't enough to be in His kingdom under?
No that can't be true, God forgive me for my case.
For we are accepted by faith, his grace.
Ephesians, 2:8-9
But remember, we are created in God's image. His custom visage.
Faith and deeds must go hand in hand. He wants us to help each other land.
For faith without action, is a dead reaction.
James 2:14
We will all die, it's always hard to say bye.
But while you are alive, what will you do with that drive?
What will you do while They are alive?
Will you thrive?
Will you strive?
Our end is Inevitable.
We will all die.
But who you are while alive?
Whether you do something?
Or nothing...
You leave something.
Your family will remember.
Your friends will remember.
God already knows.
You will stand before Him.
Not with money, nor fame.
But with Your heart.
Was it given?
Or was it buried?
I need to take out this trash; they are constantly brash.
His daughter distraught, minor accident caught.
Chooses yelling and mocking, instead of supporting or consoling. You need a good socking.
Broken and bruised, it wouldn't change his fuse.
Money is his only desirable ruse.
Timothy 6:10, can send you to hell's pen.
Just an alcoholic, drowning their systolic.
Nightly drinking, you blame everyone else for your sinking.
Memory wiped the next morning, can't be accountable for last night's scorning.
Repetition, like an addiction.
Slandering them in their weakness, but you're truly the weakest.
Pathetic excuse of an existence, refusing to make changes, allowing persistence.
Forgive me Jesus. Romans, I don't want to create omens.
Over ten years, I've seen how you treat your peers.
Unacceptable, riding that egotistical horse.
Womanizer, believing they exist only to be sexualized.
A failure, until the day that you're dead. I pray to God that you finally make your bed.
Not in death no, but with faith. Before you do reach the ending wraith.
But I've seen my prayers, how they fall on deaf ears.
Proverbs 28:9.
Some people just can't let go of their beers.
Old dog, no new trick. A living hog that makes me sick.
Every day you say, Life sucks, why me?
Yet do nothing with your wounds.
Refuse to change the blame.
Allow the story to repeat the same.
If you weren't garbage, then maybe the Lord would bless your carnage.
But that's not you, we see how you view.
Greed, you'll do anything for that need.
Not a surprise to see the ending of your spree.
Take it upon Luke, 12:15 and Rebuke.
Now you stuff your orifice, eat away the perilous.
The Bible called it glutenous, if only he'd read the Proverbs.
Just like my verses on Humanity, he claims the Lord for vanity.
Claims to read the Bible, but his character says denial.
Go back to Mathew, only lawlessness that you hew.
I'm not perfect either, still learning about the holy spirits ether.
But I don't condemn others, for my own endeavors.
I question, why people like this exist?
Pushing blame but refuse to desist.
With people like this, Jesus wants us to resist.
Step away from the toxicity, 2 Timothy.
Set boundaries, or they'll drag you to hell with thee.
Not everyone can be carried.
Not every soul can be saved.
Some people can be helped.
Other times, you must save yourself
This pressure is building up within.
Still unemployed, running out of ideas to ploy.
Thank you for applying, despite having experience that's qualifying.
You're not what we're looking for.
Life issuing out problems, faster than I can solve them.
Your payment is overdue. Pay up or get screwed.
One thing after another, will there ever be prosper?
This pressure is building up within.
Your child is autistic, oh and by the way, dyslexic.
Frustration growing like a ravenous crustacean.
This high blood pressure keeps building. No release from this hypertension killing.
Smallest irritant, building layers of fury propellant.
Ripped off the car door handle, can't I just get a grip?
This pressure is building up within.
I have no outlet, no release from this growing debt.
Interest is stress, my savings on sanity become less.
Fear that I will erupt. This pressure filed under Bankrupt.
Waiting to explode, this destructive load. Iwo Jima.
I don't want this ferocity; lord just take away my chronicity.
This pressure is building up within.
This wrath sneaks out, worried my child sees how.
Broke his tv with the controller. Brand new.
Stomping down the hallway, little giant I need to teach you how to pray.
Or like me, you'll be the Devil's prey.
Staring at a living mirror. He sees my growing horror. This soul destroyer.
James, Ephesians, and Proverbs.
This pressure is building up within.
This steam constricting not just my son or my life, but also my wife.
Seeing my tension, this growing hypertension. She's Worried but annoyed at my wrathful void.
Sitting in the waiting room, nosebleed creeps from this mental tomb.
All consuming, everyone is a target when this anger is looming.
I lash out in the car, this long drive a verbal Flagellum.
The pressure attacking my Cerebellum...
This pressure is building up within.
How much longer until the next sin?
Lord, will I ever win?
Hissing like a kettle, but it's my mind that's boiling.
I take a step forward, only to take ten inward.
This life is a ward, against any hard earned award.
It isn't fair, becoming too much to bear.
But what can I do? But continue to move.
Forward, I keep telling myself. Even if it's killing my health.
It'll get easier God, right? I say praying into the empty night.
We wouldn't struggle and suffer, if it wasn't for our better endeavor.
I say these words, but part of me wonders if we are simply God's blunders.
This pressure is building up within.
Free us of these stressful sins.
We cannot win.
Did we forget our humanity, to treat each other accordingly?
Leviticus 19:18.
Instead, we live our lives unclean.
That includes me, listen to this verse spree.
Pretenders becoming offenders, they steal and take until there is nothing but ache.
Friends or family they imitate, their greed does not discriminate.
What's done in the dark will be brought to the light.
Pull the chain and illuminate your sight, caught in their blight. Red handed.
These predators, pointing fingers as if you're the creditors.
But they made their bed, now feel this lead. Go to sleep.
Accusations that create suffocation.
Dramatic antic, caused by their chaotic frantic.
They claim bipolar, more like the Satan's disorder.
Years go by, their intentions revealed. Drop dead like a fly, how time flies.
Dead to me, but the evil in me wishes they bled.
Not enough that they're exiled, the damage they cause still riled.
Forgive me lord, not holy of me to brandish this sword.
Mathew 5:44, but I swear some people deserve a .44.
Their true faces revealed, time reveals all peels.
Their makeup, like old paint in the sun. Wake up.
Seeing the turmoil, they put her through hot oil.
Dangle them over the boil, screams are symphony toil.
False claims of affairs, yet they fornicate like musical chairs.
Speaking Ill behind our back, pretending there's no smell behind their crack.
Lies of drug abuse, yet they're the ones using that ruse.
Both child and drug abuse.
Jump to social media for clout, claim to be devout.
Ironic, claiming Jesus as their tonic.
Titus 1:16.
Sinning proud, unashamed. Continue to keep that shroud, only the devil will be proud.
All that condone these deeds, I suggest you grab a read.
Galatians.
Make your reparations, or face the devil's accommodations.
I’m only human, this fury inhuman.
Jesus, forgive me.
Not for seeing the evil.
But for letting it live in me.
Teach me humanity.
They say blood is thicker than water,
But I've nothing left to bleed, from this sibling creed.
You three and me, we endured a difficult spree.
All our life we dealt with strife.
Like the poem Broken Home, that's just the tip of the iceberg to our broken dome.
Titanic, lost in the panic.
Shipwreck.
Castaways, I thought our brotherhood would never part ways.
But I was wronged, tough times didn't produce an unbreakable bond.
Like it's supposed to, Proverbs 17:17.
After my service, I came back to familiar strangers. What a disservice.
Like bumping into a regular at the markets, you chat briefly about your targets.
But once the discussion is stale, you both part ways to where you hail.
You look back, wondering how life would be, if you and them were still on track.
But this is reality, life doesn't promise you totality.
Only a fatality.
It hurts to put this into literacy, because my brothers are alive.
But this personal bureaucracy demands that they may as well be dead.
Dead to me, but I can't accept this dread.
If they were at least dead, then I would have closure in my head.
I wonder, if I put lead to my head, then would my siblings finally break tread?
I've reached out, in hopes that one of you would call out.
Only my echo cried out.
Familiar Strangers, where did we go wrong? Do I not belong?
I long, for the past I had with three, fruit grew aplenty on my tree.
Galatians.
Now toss me into the fire, for I have ire.
Just like when Cane bashed his brother, never tire.
I've given up, empty is my family cup.
Lord knows I tried, Psalm 133:1
I'm left with no one.
Hear what I say, if you have siblings astray.
Reconcile, don't exile.
They're all you got...
When life demands it's time to trot...
You don't know what you have...
Until it is gone...
Working late through night, driving through the suns blinding light.
I ask you, are you there?
Where?
As I weave in and out of highway traffic.
One tired mistake, then It could be horrific.
I'm talking as if you are my passenger, but I hear no reponse of any messenger.
Questions go unanswered, wondering if it's being transferred.
We're sorry, God isn't in right now.
How?
As I continue speaking aloud, the silence after is more loud.
Are you there?
Here? But I don't see you ever.
I create doubt, wondering if your existence is never.
This grows my frustration, I need it to stop.
Show me something to satiate my doubtful realization.
Yet I'm left with nothing, so I begin to shout, feeling like less than nothing.
Alone on the ocean, reeling my bait when I feel commotion.
Am I wasting my line? Speaking and praying to receive a sign.
But I caught no fish. Granted no wish.
Are you there?
Why?
Why don't you speak to me? Show me. Help me see.
I coil, what if we're all left here to our own toil?
Since Paul, we were told you'd return to bring us home with no haul.
But that was said nineteen hundred years ago.
Yet we're still being told to prepare to go.
What of the millions, deep in the earth?
Are they still waiting for heavenly birth?
Forgive my tongue of this heresy, but there doesn't seem to be clarity.
Only complacency.
What happens once we die?
Are we doomed to start all over again, waiting on you to finally try?
Do we wait in a place of no pace? Purgatory, until you return us to glory?
Are you there?
I have more questions and no answers.
Expected to blindly follow our faith, while life gives us cancers.
I discuss all of my worries and fears, but I feel no better shedding these tears.
Prayers have been answered, but I wonder it it's coincedental standard.
Are you there...?
I ask again...
No heavenly light.
No holy might.
Just another silent night.
Another day, right?
Guess I'll pray to fight...
Lift my head from the water, nose and throat burn as I drown in this crater.
Life squeezing and choking my throat, waiting for it to crack like the hull of a boat.
Like the Egyptians pursuing Moses through the Red Sea, life slams down on me.
Witnessing others success, meanwhile my milestones are like the Loch Ness.
Barely any evidence of my persistence, trying to escape the suffocating stress of my perpetuating existence.
People younger than me, home buying spree.
People older than me, retiring comfortably.
This is not where I expected my life, dead end jobs, disappointment, and limitless rife.
If I traveled back to the past, to tell myself how you're going to be last.
I bet all he would do is point and giggle, living in disbelief that his future would ever be struggle.
This poetry isn't to say that it's only me, for I see millions of people who also struggle to see.
Drowning in the Black Sea, it's only becoming harder for anyone to be.
People passing me by in their corvettes, lying still on the concrete are fellow vets.
Homeless, this world could care less.
All it thinks about is how the price of a product can press, while avoiding the topic of the living wage mess.
Mega churches, but there are new homes empty to preach the sermons.
Fatal Injury, but your bank account determines if you get the surgery.
I'd be lying, if I said that I don't want the power of buying.
Let's face it, the world made sure Benjamin was the only shoe that fit.
Let's recap, the bible cap.
For the love of money is the root of all kinds of evil.
We're all in an upheaval.
1. Timothy 6:10
If the world had a love for god, like it chases money as if it was health.
Then we'd all experience the wealth.
But here we are, struggling to reach the money bar.
Chasing the bosses attention, in hopes they will give us the wealthy omission.
Looking for the paying position, so we can stop living the financial suppression.
Yet I continue to drown.
The weight of disappointment dragging me down.
I thought I'd be in a better spot by now...
On a long lonely road like so many others,
There lies a dog carcass that no one bothers.
It was fresh, the first time I passed.
A quick glimpse revealed the body was smashed.
Jaw agap, as the blood would escape.
A horror visage, contorted and twisted.
I wondered, why nobody would remove it.
Just passing by, unaware as they fly by.
But I'm a hypocrite, not removing it.
Myself, I thought it could be dangerous.
Trying to remove a corpse with racing cars? Dangerous.
If I tried, this poem would be about how I died.
As people brushed it or crushed it.
Whether accidental or intentional.
As each day passed, I drove past.
The corpse more unrecognizable, the viscera unbelievable.
Drivers that are able, including myself, continued their bubbled fable.
I came to a realization, this poetry a revelation.
There are people like this cadaver.
Who probably feel like they don't matter.
Being brushed and crushed.
From the words and actions of anothers infractions.
Whether by accident or intention.
Yet we continue to drive by, so absorbed in our own delusion.
Take heed to become more perceptive of your fellow brothers and sisters bleed.
We should choose kindness over blindness.
We need to help another, take care of eachother.
Do you scoff at this poetry? Not my burden to carry.
Not my problem, who cares about them?
Then what do you do?
When it's time for your due?
And this carcass includes you...?
I should be proud, to have set sail from this shroud.
A year building this ship, casting off for this trip.
Barnacles of nagging doubt, persuasion of gagging clout.
But I did it, on my ship I've set sea.
Future frontier of a successful spree.
That's what I told my mind, in pursuit of a rewarding grind.
But now I'm adrift.
Dark waters twist like a rift.
Black void.
Wind in my sails - devoid.
No momentum in this conundrum.
No direction.
Only me staring at the stars, why can't I become them?
I pray to god, my ship is stuck in abyssal sod.
My objective? Objection.
I've lost connection.
Didn't think I'd get this far.
But now I'm adrift - afar.
No path to take, what am I supposed to do for your sake?
I want to believe in Proverbs 3:5-6
Trust that there will be a fix.
But doubt whispers in my ears betwixt:
"Your ambitions mean nothing".
"Aimless are the dreams you're clutching".
"It will only lead to more crushing".
Do I continue this traversal?
Fighting waves with paddle and rehearsal.
Dreams, Weighing down my ship it seems.
Cracking at the seams.
Do I believe Proverbs 4:25?
Keep focus straight ahead.
In hopes that there may be land ahead?
Or drop these fabled anchors,
Steer for realities daggers.
Do you have dreams?
A desire for more as it seems?
Have you built your ship?
Has it set sail without slip?
Or are you also, adrift?
Roses are red, violets are food, what the fuck do you want, im not in the mood.
Roses are red, The door is ajar Brian look out, Car.
Roses are red, roses are... also blue. I am a creeper and you're a dude.
We aren't so different, you and I. I'm a maniac, and you're a guy.
Violets are purple get it right, I don't care if purple didn't always exist, invent it faster!
I stare at my screen, all red with a note. “I died to a creeper”, I force from my throat. I open my browser, and google one thing. ”How to stop Creepers from ever living”.
Roses are red,
I have a weapon,
and I have a gun,
Its an AK47.
And I'm not afraid to use one.
You see some dude stole my only cookies,
As well as my braclets, candy, and jewlery.
And I have a crazy tendency to shoot and kill some people.
Because I accidentally killed two of my favorite characters, in a game out of pure stupidity.
Don't ask Why, my reaction time is slower than that of a turtle.
Maybe because I haven't eaten in forever,
So how do I finish the poem may you ask?
And how did I get revenge on the guy you may ponder?
Well he did survive but only because of plot armor,
Unlike me who ended up eating a cheeseburger...
