Happy Birthday Brother

Do you words provoke
to hold on what you hold
I've been told
by many zealots
that we are waiting
for our flight from this captivity

I think I can know in my depravity
my hopes have been left in you
I'm stocking up the store house
of our family films
When I was a kid
up until now

I'm turn back by the fountains
in my back yard
where we walk to a path
straight and narrow

Waiting for that which will be
But for now
Let me just reach
Imitate
Take in
and I'll strive to be
what you have been to me
For all them he's and she's

The cracked and broken
Frail and discouraged
Waiting for the dose of happy
to kick in
so they can once again feel the wind
and neglect your Supreme Omnipotence

My friend is bellowing out the birth words
Paintings of Sun and Moon
on dull windows
As we open up the shades
for the parting of night and day
Such a general thing to say

But if you heard Him
You'd think, "No kidding. That's something special."
And that theories just run the mind
into a muck

Man, good Sir
I don't know if your stuck
But if you give me a second
You might realize that your destined
to be plucked up
it's a new kind of happy birthday song
we're goin to be singing

You were once 16, now going on ___... YOU TELL ME

I used to dance in my pants
I used to dance in heavy set clothing
heaving up chunks wherever I was going
I used to vomit objections to being real

I used to keep my hood on
Like Baggy jean wearers keep their swag on
Like the DOPE keep their NBA TAGS ON THEIR PRADA FADS ON
I used to turn the lights out and pretend THIS... BIGGER... BETTER... ME

I used to stand for posing to hate the posers
Loose and fly
walking large and head up
don't let the man see you down
don't let elders take your crown
FOR YOU, ARE A KING

I used to keep boxes on my room of the NEXT BIG THINGS
OH, you did that too
I was all about that you know
I identify with that
ESCAPE FROM THE SCAPEGOATS... MY TOTES ARE REAL

I have allowed my parents to give me an allowance
As "GAY" as they are I allow it
I allow them to give me things
I'm a blessing

I got women with da boots with the fur
BRA, I used to look at her
I got words that need to be heard
I got dollar bills to lite my smokes
and sail boats for sailing in my kegs of miller and bud lites
I'm not so sure if it's going to be great year...
But it's going to be a good night

I have condoms I don't condone for children
But I have birth control in case her body wants have one
WHAT UP?!?!?!
And if she thinks this has plans...
I got multiple so called plans in a black book
That's why the fellas refer to me as "THE MAN"

THE GAME IS PLAYED
AT THE COST OF BOOS AND FEMALES BOOBS
THE GAME TOO MANY DUDES CHOOSE
COULD IT BE A FOOLS FAD?
I DON'T KNOW
YOU were once 16 now going on ___... YOU, YOU TELL ME
COULD IT BE A FOOLS FAD?
I think you could be the next co-star on MTV'S teenage mom and teenage dad
YOU TELL ME

Not Meek, Just a Hero

At your feet
nail driven holes
gripping splinter filled
Tramp stamped by the hammer of a sinner
to a piece of wood
carved for an innocent dying man
for all the sinners
on top a mountain

Trampled by the feet of soldiers and Pharisees
mocked, spat upon, before they pronounced
He blasphemed. Crucify Him!
Crucify the Emmanuel

Thrusted upon, a crown
Thrusted nails
Thrusted on a tree
Thrusted on some hill
Thrusted upon was our death
as your heart beat slowed down
to stop, drop
Thrust in the spear
For He shall have no broken bones
The once living water mingled with the blood
And flowed out

ascended on a hill
then descending before a miracle ascending
mounted for the death pending
stabbed through with dull quivers
up on a hill
shivering from the tears
skin ripped off the back
like ribbons
sliding off the package
of your Easter Present
A communion basket of body and blood

A skeleton of former glory
Before the exaltation granting my Grooms Authority
The story before the Good News story
(whip sound)
taking away the power of the humans God-born
we would call that whipped
but what man fighting for his bride
what true man doesn't give the woman the whip
The Bride was equipped and the Son died
without fight nor fit
He took the whip. He took the whip.

The Leaving Season

We perch ourselves on mailboxes

waiting for obscene letters of home

when home is just behind us

We, the proud have turned our back

from the things we thought would bind us

Like a turtle neck sweater 

in Spring weather

Showing up in a North Carolina Winter

We turn our back a something that had once seemed to serve a purpose

Until in the heat of our anxiety 

our throat says I'm empty

Give me taste, that I may quench thirst

From a house cemented in the ground

With tap water coming out in 3 holds

Be we perch on a box 

Waiting for a letter to take the tired home.

We squat, knell, and pray everyday waiting a messenger

Pleading in an awkward position

People in love keep calling us to a feast 

that'll supply us for this long winter season

But we'll leave bitter

cause we want to be catered better

I live like I dog
Says the man meant to behold
I live like a dog in summer
I'm panting in a regressing beat
The tones of my apathy
strumming me along cursing
The dirt
The beautiful dirt I stand

I hate work
I hate stale milk
and stagnant relationships
I eat like I belong in jail
I hate getting spam in my mail
I hate the three seconds it takes to get texts
I hate that I work out three times a week and I have such pathetic pecs

I'm so blessed at this picture said the moon
I wonder if anyone could this beauty too
What a blessing
What a blessing
Oh, a blessing

DOLL HOUSE

ARISE
you once filled with spirit
marred by a fanatic
dashed quickly into a fantasy
Arise from the plastic

left your eyes
and stop giving up on your story
take off the mask
and say "I'VE HAD IT"

Pick up your shoes
Left the one
comes next the two
Stand together through the door
say left foot to the right foot
I'm tired of standing inside the door
"I"VE HAD IT"
I'm not doing that anymore

Seriously, I'm not doing that anymore
I'm tired of only touching the cold wood on the floor
I'm tired of looking out the window
at living things that are pursuing something
foreign but lovely

The fire might be comfy
But I'm cramped
and this toy house won't let me grow anymore

I'm tired of looking to be Barby's Ken
ANd I'm tired of living the tale
of that which makes boys come under a delusion their men
Not living a real adventure
But crossing truth and lie
women and sin
standing left foot without the right foot

Doll Houses and doll babies

the next lady

enough to make you go crazy

with fake bodies

and hollow nothings underneath something you can

strike cold like tin

She can get as cold as like ice

and won't provide a summers weather

cause we live in a doll house

TRENDS

When did it become cool once again to draw dash marks over the GIFT and tell of peoples past sins? When? Why are we still trying to prepare the way with a non-Christians purity when Christ looked to the Keepers of the Law absurdly right before He died for the ungrateful shes and he's. U-SURP ME. Take my crate from my hands where I've written out my own plans and I want my will to be fanned. I've ignited fireworks of passion... costing more than your 50000 dollars 4th of July to get my egocentric high. I've had annual toasts to thank God, that unlike many I've gotten by with my purity. It's thanksgiving. And, dude. I'm very thankful

Don't Worry, He'll Show

I think if there was a light in this city
I think Christ might show

Like he did when there was a light in Bethlehem
On that stary night, giving a point of direction
to a few men
Christ came from a virgin
Indeed, to some wise men and some shephards
Christ was shown

Like he did in the storm
Sleeping in the back was the Messiah
12 wading in the boat
That they feared would be swallowed by a lake
When my God made both the lake and the storm
They didn't know, instead of just a teacher, that Messiah would show

And when it came to the garden of Gethsemane
The world bellowed in deep darkness
Everyone was blind to this
But the third day, after all that darkness
people could see
even the doubting Thomas
Because He showed up

When Stephen got stoned by the masses
And Jewish leaders were taken passes at the Young Bride
she skipped out just after the wedding
From the Euphrates to Rome where did she go
For thy Lord feared she had become a NO SHOW
The too weak left
Christ's love taken for theft

When shootings and polluting
comits of word vomit... MTV playing victory horns on Jersey's Shores
Bill boards cover the skies portraying naked girls with vogue
And you wonder why your thirteen year olds
purse is bigger than her shorts
whenever she leaves home
boys watchin your girls every step
And moms don't call it cute
If ya call your house a righteous institute
Bro, that aint Biblical

Church's tell children, "COVER YOUR EYES"
But our alternatives are slim to none
We don't train lambs to be tailers, but just gospel mission sailors
When we don't encourage our kin to see things as premissable
Light the missle that is the church
shoot it to the moon
so it can alienate some more

When the sheep act sheepish
Asking, "What have they done?"
Once again the temple cast lots
crusading more white washed stage sets
pursuing monetary prep
than taking hands reaching out in the community
one step, two step
What a bunch stoop kids

Acting like their ACTIONS SPEAK LOUDER THAN WORDS has strepped
As in God-Image playing hookie
When the test comes in our Chemistry
How do we bond Heaven on Earth
without marring the Son of God's imagery

All Christians do
is watch what you the world did
We preach preaching about sin,
Like we are casting gossip bids about political advocates
in a country every Christian already knows is steeped deep in sin

In a darkness just like this
When the morning doesn't seem close
And the sun won't come up
And they don't believe you
cause even you sometimes don't get it right
Yeah, I believe still that Christ will show
Thank God their hope is dependent on me and you
How we grow

The Whisperer

My strange, but familiar Whisperer
I'm dust
But you have whispered
whispered life into my soul

And when I went down in my death bed
And the water was sourging
Did you come with a surge of power
And reveal the crop for the harvest
When I came out of the water that 13th hour
And I could breathe the life you put
a whisper in my soul

You've come laying gifts for what you're building
Constructing Jesus on its earthly grain
Your word as pillars
Your grace, ready at the table
There's some pictures of us up on the mantel
There's a project in a room that we're going to finish together
You whispered life into my soul

I cut myself with sharp thistles and thorns
I was dying after being reborn
Forged with the fires of negativity
The foul breath urging the impetus for change
We fragile scatter the God whisper from our soul in our resistance
Birthing hunger pains

You put Images of Believers into my path
You gave Christ times 7 times 70
These people came when it wasn't asked
His image being an innocent child, a wise elder, an obedient peer
You never stopped forgiving and moving me
You whispered life into my soul

And when I've contemplated the realities
Is this even real
pouting in the doubting, and left shouting in the disputing in my disputes prowess
Someone put your word into my path
In suttle talks, as in talking down your stressed and oppressed child you brought me back
You whispered life into my soul

For the books are written and won't be broken
What was said by you will be forever told
Stretched to the corners
From Earth to Heaven
You called out
BIRTH, REBIRTH, RESURRECTION
I think the whispers taking its tole

"FOR THE LAST LINES POINT AT EVERYONE"

Christ, if there is hope,  it's you
For the whisper is there, and there, and there
Not for you to whisper, but to shine the light of the One
who is whispering, out there, and there, and there
If there's Christ, if there is hope, to the deaf and blind
The Whisperer has whispered go, my Bride, it's time

Hey listen
I also see you. I know what you once believed you seem to be missin.
I get it. I've been there.
Lay a hand over your chest, hand pressed
And ask again for the Whisperer to invest
This time tell Him to be more than just a guest with a real humble request
Then ask someone to examine you and say
"What He gives, I want that too."
Bless the Lord, how He moves

Tell THE GIRL THAT

And the voices keep telling me
Go back to your houses
Sit down in silence
but I won't
I won't do it

They keep telling me
Timid is the boy walks silently
And when is the last time you spoke up
But I trudge on
I'm a one man band
Bursting forth
WITH GREAT ADMONITION
Get behind me

The heart beckoning
For we shall trudge home
to where the heart is
WILD
It is heard
with triumph
Heard louder
than the sound of
Times square
For many feet have crossed miles
Staring at signs
telling you to buy into labels

But none have made it into
this court of intimacy
Where there is nothing of a label
No image but a person
No more material
Just spiritual

There is no more timid
I'm not frugal with what I'm buying here
This human heart
I'm coming to this conclusion of WOMAN
Beckoning with all of my might

At the doors a great war in my heart
I'm churning inside, and I wanna confide
and at not hide
But only so you would come into my life too
Is this not an invitation

RSVP
Come you, only, and see me
Together we will be
HEART
HOME
WHERE it is

Finally free
Slaves to each other
Free of ourselves
Submission to one another

Place my heart on the shelf of our interest
and we will call these portraits home
For this is where the heart is

Snapshot
Caption titled
His AND Hers
They both own the rights
Two keys intertwined
To form something beautiful
One door
made of two
yearning people

And out of the blue
If I just asked you
just asked you
not with fine words
or catch phrases
Or a packet of that
packet of sugar, to be my sugar
your name tag

Or that packet of taco bell
hot sauce
that asks my question so I don't have to
I haven't lost my voice
So let me tell what I want to
Cause for you
These won't do
I'm not timid
So don't put me in this crowd too

Wrong shelf
I'm not going to placed on your suspicion
Rather I'll move here
May people see me
when they see that warmth in your face
I'm poppin my questions girl
I'm projection a message beautiful

GONNA DO IT
At least do it
Leaving a trace
on your souls canvas
Let someone pick up that brush and try to touch
Nah, that mark is getting bigger and bigger
I'm gone
Let's pray the nex girl sees it quicker
("At least that's what my mom tells me")
NEXT GIRL, NEXT POEM

Many man have drinched their face in deep water
To stand across the side of boat and peer into the deep
Even for a moment of faith they too have walked on water
Conquering only the things God has given domain to
The beautiful heart of women
The magnificent structures
The wide open plains
Towering mountians
Low valleys
All these men have seen and given into and
grasp in the name of God

But these things
in the storms of life
the boat shakes
and then we ask
Teacher, are you awake
When, Lord will you act
For we make out Christ to be teacher
and not Messiah

For in times of struggles
our faith is tested
The boat is pulled from shore
And we see just how deep
our faith should be
And how deep God's grace is all the more

MINE MINE MINE, MY STONE - rough start

I hate people
Slow people
Loathers
I casted the first stone

I'm tired of em
sinners
prideful winners
I picked up the first stone

I'm carry judgement
Like Santa carrying lumps of coal with names tied to em
And I got the pride to abuse em
A untied tongue flung loose to misuse em
The Defining Moment
The World Changer
That is why I picked up the first stone

I picked it up
Even though you told me I didn't have to
You said
Child
YOU DON'T JUDGE
FOR THIS WEIGHT
ISN'T LIGHT
OR TOO WEAK FOR YOU
A SINNER TO BARE
CARRY THIS
and be crushed

But I picked it up
not so you wouldn't have to
But because I truly
thought I was god too

I flung that stone at you, you and you
I hit you with my peace maker
And it's a back breaker
I was throwing for the kill
smitting your will
I threw that first stone

Cause I wanted you to be alone
Love your neighbor He says
But I truly might hate you
more and more what you do
I think I'm better you

So, take my words for what they are
Cause tonight from where you stand, I'm a shooting star
Make your last wish
Like you got some fatal disease
just don't ask me not to judge you, please
I casted the first stone
Not realizing tomorrow it's this kings turn
to be dethroned

NATIONALLY CHRISTIAN

UTTER THESE WORDS

FOR THEY ARE FROM

GENERATION TO GENERATION

to whom anyone

who searches will find them

WORD

GOD'S WORD

Not laced in hidden meaning

but made known

so that creation would know it's place of meaning

for the Father

stays close to His children

AMEN

Praise the Lord

AMEN

WHEN the light goes out

and the hope still resounds

AMEN

PRAISE GOD

When there's hurt pouring

and ripping through

And the threshold can't take too much more abuse

PRAISE THE ONE

I AM

AMEN

When we've all gone silent

due to the horrific

silence.

There's peace

Be still

Don't run

or take flight

For thy God

doesn't dwell far off

He's here

not in a temple

Praise GOD

AMEN

When the broken

and abandoned

have no home

and people are fleeing

from abomination

THERE'S HOPE

IF you can't see

and if the church, the bride

doesn't come

God annoints

not with Church budgets

but Blessings and Inheritance

The Sermon on the Mount

isn't dead

BUT IS CUT DRY TRUTH

PRAISE JEHOVAH

AMEN

IF you don't know a name to call God

See that He gives names

and He has called forth you into being

Simply being

Praise God

AMEN

When you think that there's nothing to look forward to

YOU, you Christian

Become hopeful again

Cause you need to see heaven

DEAREST FRIEND

For thine assurance

let it be found in the cross

In He who made 

a symbol of a sinners death

A Patrayal of Praise

He DEAREST

Praise God

AMEN

 

BUT NOW,

RIGHT NOW

backs to the wall

blindfolded

with scarlet letters

telling tales of the old self

over run by sin

The small foreigners
Sent out by the Lawless

have become invading giants

and everyone will recieve lashes

by which our burdens run deep

PRAISE GOD, LORD ALMIGHTY

For these people are citizens

dutiful til the end

and Patriots carry banners of MARANATHA

towards the HELM of APATHY

At the gates of our souls

We have lit torches

Calling at the KEEP of LIGHT

Saying the Sacred names

that our Fathers

could not have said

For we now walk with the Almighty

RISEN LORD

when this time comes chants of Praise

IN ALL OF OUR DAYS

HALLELUJAH TO THE HIGHEST

for our lows were not

far out of His reach

His love is far and wide

and exceeds the boundaries of our unbeliefs

We never knew to the extent of how you loved me

BUT NOW

NOW BRIDE

COME AND SEE

PRAISE GOD

AMEN

AWAKEN ME

And you cracked yourself into broken pottery

Caving into blindness

For you didn't see the mockery

In making God's image sightless

Who gave away free life for complaints

and Living Water for fine luxuries

Laid bare for...

You once fell prostrate before God

But now stripped of innocence

Let God, I AM, profess this

To THESE struggling

I AM says this

For God doesn't wish to oppress thee

But oppose the sin inside of me

Would you discredit my justice bride?

Church, would you condemn me to justify yourself?

I AM

Did I not form you?

WHo is this who won't move...?

WHo is this who obscures without knowledge

When I AM declare the means

Not to harm you,

To give you a hope and future.

Where were you when I laid the earth's foundation

Tell me if you understand

Who determined it's measurements?

Surely you know!

Can you lift up your voice to the clouds,
   that^(AI) a flood of waters may cover you?
³⁵Can you send forth lightnings, that they may go
   and say to you, 'Here we are'?

And how many times

Have you looked for me

and not seen this

and said "Now I see"

Have you even given orders to the morning

Or shown dawn its place?

That it might grab earth from the edges

and shake the wicked out of it?

The earth takes shape like clay under a seal

Its features stand out like those of

a garment

in these, I AM, I MOVED

DO you remember, Church

The Young, The Growing

The new you...

Or did the New Self once again become the Old too?

And you gave, caved, became broken to...

depression, peer pressure, negativity,

business, friends, drugs, cutting, pride,

anger, distractions, fears, and disturbances,

clicks, hate, selfishness,

CHILD, I AM isn't done with this

sports, perfectionism, prosperity, noise

And I AM has become a white noise

For you made a veil of distractions

But for you

I'm not done with this yet

Church, I'm still here

You're Dad's still me

You made the decision a while ago

To be free

THEN I WILL BE INDIGNIFIED
From the inside

Something felt once before
And this grace
will not be contained
I'll be aflamed
AWAKENED LIKE NEVER BEFORE

poem for the song Awakening

I REALLY DID IT THIS TIME

I... am a son of Adam.
She is a daughter of Eve.
Evil is the Cain that we shall concieve.
I am slave
Mastered by my likes and dislikes
I prescribe and ride waves on the island called, "god is ME"
But let's be real... at least pagans pretend it's spelled lowercase  "g"
I know the uppercase so I like to pretend that's me.
Even though I didn't die for anything
But this Sunday service communion cup was handed to me freely.
I can say, "Today I bear this fruit. A token of my pledge to say that, HEY I'M OF YOU."
But my ambitions and vision of my personal GoD... says I'm just what only I think that I can only see.


I... am a son of Abraham.
I lust open wide with incest
But if I see an abortion sign, truly I would protest.
But how many times to a feeling or urge have I regressed.
No, I haven't had sex.
Not with another woman
Not to make an offspring
But I'm faithless enough to let sex urges spring
Spring from my conceptions
And pretend to make misconceptions...
that maybe God didn't see the screw up.
Yeah, I really screwed.
Yes, well, this time I really did.
HONESTLY
But shhhhhh that's only for the concience to know.
Yeah, but I REALLY DID.

I... am a son of David
But not like David
Just of the royal priesthood
A fine line of Soloman unto Rehoboam.
My royalty makes everyone sucumb
You sucumb to this
This wish
This whining
This overall of  complaining
I wrote songs that contradict the book Psalms
Prayers drawn out long
about needs and wants
 Fine dressed royalty.
No tithing necessary.
Cause my religious aptitude comes with blessing and accessories.
On the package written in bold PRINT "FAITH'S NOT IN INCLUDED"
I buy mine with acts of kindness and a heap of piety.
My selfrighteous bigotry has protruded.

MOVEMENT

The great fragment of mind.
Hopefulness.Hopeful in the ONE WHO SAVES.
Turn over the Lifeless Graves.
ARISE NEW SELF. GOODBYE OLD SELF.
ARISE CHILD.
GOODBYE COMPLACENT WANDERER.
HELLO TRAVELER.
GOODBYE FAITHLESS.
HELLO GENUINE.
TENDER HEARTED.
Goodbye Quiet.
Hello bold.
Goodbye to the cold, a movement has provided warmth.
A soul moving towards goals.
I'm a movement. I'm sacrifice. I'm a voice in the wilderness. I'm a temple of action. I'm a moved heart. I profess and I'm a non-proffitt giver. I'm peacekeeper, not a redeemer, but we'll be moved and made whole by the resurrection til the very end.

I'm ascending because I'm done with descending. I'm done falling down in anything but reverence. I will not turn to be blind. When... I've been sought out, reconstructed, loved, appealed to, placed upon, poured into by grace. I've been reconstructed not for my ownself, but to glorify.

Do you hear it? DO you hear it? -There's a voice calling out in the wilderness... prepare a way for the Lord. This is the temple, this is the church and we through our movement and actions have become an opening for other. We will be a part of the baptism, preaching, and teaching of our sisters and brother. Cause I am the voice. I am movement.
BEHOLD, THE BEAUTIFUL FEET THAT MOVE.

THE LAST SUPPER

Inside the upper room of a one house they checked in. The Son of God and three men. Filled in around a table rather than nice pew rows. AND THE SON said: Take this... eat in rememberance of me. In rememberance of what? To what could you possibly mean? TO twelve sitting around a table that in the garden will get up and flee... Is this truly to show YOU... how you are forgiving?

Calling Young Sinners, Come Home

          White noise for promiscuous girls and boys. New toys made the sky rocketing of the pick pocketing brought to you by such and such fads. Call collect so that marketing can collect while you collect your new sense of identity and worth so that you can find a false identity, hoping that in four years when you finally reach early adulthood you might meet and become the real you. The presumptuous immoral compass... we put labels saying not for those 12 and under as if that which is not beneficial is a game to play with. But hey, you can legally become an alcoholic when you turn 21. And when you’re eighteen legally have as much sex that you can to deem kinky and as excessive fun. But really if you aren't caught Hollywood and golden globe nominees treat such touchy subjects as a playful strip tease that you, the general audience, can indulge in. No one's knees have to bow to moral and angelic decrees. We've kicked our next generation’s knees down to where they can feast the delicacy of infestations, pig slops of disease. Feasting upon what drives our culture in which the media prostitute sits her unGodly womb upon. That which fifty years ago was frowned upon. We are rolling around up and down in our dung pile of happiness... as if our own cheap occupancies can satisfy and quench such a royal and eternal vacancy. And such a God was mocked, defied, crucified. Pierced in the side. A prince then wrapped in cheap linen in a rich man’s tomb. Clothing for a dead man left in perfect order as evidence of a resurrection. And yet as we're inspecting we are still holding unto the earthly garbs of the evidence of a resurrection. We wear the cheap linen even though in our own guilt we bleed. We bleed out in our subconscious. We are soaked in things of a spiritual battle indwelling that some would call faulty apparitions or a blind, conceited, depleted hoax... but I tell you, this... this is no joke. Inspect. Inspect and interject in my indecency. Cause from far away you truly thought I was me. But really what I preach is only what I tell you to be. I'm the teenage day dreamer. Youth, which I think is stuck in a standstill. Look at me. I got all the time to kill. BUT!!! IF YOU TOOK THE TIME TO FIND ANY FAULT ANY CRIME!!! You'd see that I have lied... that it's not after I was baptized that I had resurrected all these things. Those old ways! I've just turned the page to new days. BUT!!! Please if you would just look at this... touch this with compassion that I got a glimpse of from some scripture that painted my salvations picture... If I saw the Christ in you that was calling me home... Maybe, finally I would stop this promiscuous roam... If you calmed the current in this black hole...  And made adventures for a citizen’s soul. Then maybe, just maybe I would finally learn which way to go.

Pale Skinned Infant

I'm an infant of pale white skin. Bones scattered and thin. As if my own flesh and bones had no reason to move. This world being the big blind canvas. Shaded in a dark blue. Left looking for that which through my humanity I have been called into existence in a cracked, broken stance.
I'm the frail stance, saved by Mercy Hands over the killing of some merciless men. Body covered with telephone ads. Ads coated to the skin like a paper mache. Body tied by the coating of such a mache. Only the lips left to move... enough to call out this way.
WHERE'S THE FAMILY... that we once had... should have had... I thought I was born from a mom and a dad. But that ole abortion clinic made a one spouse a hopeful cynic cause boy you where no twinkle in that daddy's eye. And though God's made a miracle of you, the autism has still made you, by mother’s arms, casted aside. The cutting of the umbilical cord of this son... a proclamation, a celebration of the family... it's a shame it won't ever be done.
If only those bandages could speak... if only those telephones ads could really speak... if one unborn child could show the will to love and to hold and to feel. I wonder. I wonder if the stirring of the womb... if it would have ever been stilled. If we saw the dreams of an unborn before the curtain was torn and the injection was poured into the already living form. Abortions are not the answer to carelessness, lust, or rape-date-porn.
Telephone ads make for nice gauzes and pads. But the addresses of numbers tell of hopeful lawyers and practicians that I wish for my own sake could petitioned a better deal. And the rest are these: Those careless practicizing the American ideal that you can have what you want. Sex is the fast food train of society. Brown paper bags holding leftover burger scraps. Our new morality using dirty rags to cover up the 3 to 22 ounce life-stripped meat bags. The end result bringing two things shame and being sad.
And if we don't like the way that feels pop a morning after pill. The 21 century steal that won't change the way your stomach projects or the morning sickness you really don't wanna detect.
The 21 century abolitionists think they have saved young women from bondage and slavery, rather than having them take on the responsibility of pregnancy God gave thee.
I don't think the case for the woman carrying some extra baggage around for nine months will cause my mental structure to heal... or the dead to be able to taste, touch, and feel what life must really offer.
I am getting a taste of the life I thought I was to live.... because when I was casted and molded I was already confounding the laws of nature... that soul would be put in a single cell XY chromosome. Smaller than your doting of that i on that piece of paper as you signed that waver.
That new generation having a dependency even before the start of infancy. And yet because of a clinic souls live in fear of being put into a genocide... where the dependence on a physically mature shell is all they have to hide. But the fetus is too unformed to kick... isn't capable to yell. So how do you let them know that you confide in them before they rectify such a earth based hell?
Please someone... open up a census. Look at the names missing. Do you really get the idea? Are you sensing what I'm sensing? Or look at the empty desk seats in a school and then look at people like me who's protectors became fools. Our desires can become weapons, and hands unGodly tools.
I'm sorry I wasn't in the plan but it could have panned. What happened when on those supposed guardian wings of parenting that folly would rip a tear into understanding instead one shedding one single tear on selfish planning?
But please don't assume I think we should lock up the mothers of church's sisters and brothers. It's our societies teaching on morality that is on the decline. I'm just trying to spread some Godly wisdom. That maybe you too would see that when it comes to the responsibility of caring for the unborn he's and she's that from the genetic code at conception has already been planned 9 months before infancy. I hope you take the situation more delicately, that you are nursing the next generation. That your womb and your seeds create a place for the sacred, holistic plantation. Sins do not carry unto offspring. Only the consequences the choices bring.

Truly, a Good Friday

Last night I attended a Good Friday service. Often when I go to a special service or a holiday service at a Church I'm expecting something... Usually you look for a guest speaker, a narrative set, a skit, a adament speaker, props, amazing (special) worship music (all modern and dressed out). Most churches try to put on their (humanities) best to capture the attention of the world.
Last night I came into this Good Friday service with certian expectations only to have them smashed and shattered into tiny little pieces. I love it. Lately, I've been disappointed with the overall of the church trying to keep up with the rest of the world. This whole concept of being relevant, well because "An unconditional God isn't relevant enough." I loved it. I feel like too much of the church is built up with humanities expectations for how to be enticing to people that we limit the relationship of God... I can't feel God when I'm at church or being the church.... because I'm expecting this experience. I'm out to eat and want to be entertained. I'm only there for an experience. I'm really getting tired of church trying to feed me an experience. I want to relate, fellowship, commune, and grow... I want to live. Last night I went to a Good Friday service that didn't meet my expectations and I absolutely loved it.
I sat down and was greeted with scripture... just scripture. Certain members of the congregation got up and they read the story. Some extra scripture was read outside of the Gospels... but I actually had to listen to connect it... it wasn't forcefeed with some gripping analogy relating it to facebook or how Jesus is like a cellphone. It was the Good News and nothing less and nothing more. At first I wasn't sure what to think about it. There was not too many people even there... probably because it didn't meet standards. But what are standards to someone who has been saved... "Is grace not enough that we can not just sit in church and take in scripture alone?" Then I opened up to it... I dropped my stupid expectations and just listened to the story of someone who died for me. My sins. We sang some hymns, and yes, with an organ. A total turnoff to some... I dropped my stupid guard and listened to what I was singing and I allowed myself to give into God's expectations.I loved it. A great service and just what I was lookiing for.
"Man's expectations only try to limit God. God's expectations will free humanity of their inabilities."
God's expectations require more than just being relevant, modern, and looking like the world... scripture is just scripture.... It's funny cause when people have read a book they criticise the mess out of movie... and  yet we make the church look like this huge motion picture cause we are afraid the book isn't enough...

The Preacher and His Trophy Wife

You… you’ve blossomed. Knowledgeable.  You say that you don’t talk eloquent in front of new believers/unbelievers. Careful in craft. You’re unbelievable. So exquisite. A new taste. God’s gift to mankind. I’m glad I got to meet you, you rare find. Churched, perched, preacher. Hey you, are you so comfortable that you’re the only one digging deeper. Full of hope. So dope. Thank God you came. The talent of every other follower you place – deface, criticize, prophesy , reprimand. Cause you’re legacy is bigger, higher, straight from… oh wait, you are GOD’S HANDS.

The pride of every man. Asserted, converted. You had a rough past too, yet you think you got life down better. You’re unique, a beautifully flawed treasure. It’s funny cause I thought humility was to make a man humble, not to make many stumble… and the ideology has been crumbled. Tunnel vision…Dimly lit You think you are so better fit for the lime light.

You run the race. Set pace. Dust flying all over thy face. You’re so good at dusting, to your own path you stay trusting. You, stupid, unconscious… perfection. But dude, you say your so dirty, Oh, so unworthy. I see you and think of Pharisees... misplaced, wordy, verbeeeeee.

I like your actions. With each one you gain so much interaction. Rather satisfaction. List of achievements so tall, your humility yet to be seen. Joyous. Triumphant. Sound the horns. I’ve think there’s more humility in a man looking at cheap porn behind closed doors. But please, do not think of me, that I’m trying to even the score. Sin is sin. Nothing less. Nothing more.

Message. Yeah, we do need to conceive truth. You are the voice who has the real choice. You talents and skills. So high above me. So high. When you listen to speakers speak and preachers preach you sigh. Righteousness. There are hard working men battling and raging, being worn thin and you think you have it better than them. There are servants of men and you think you have more talent buried in.

Stop proclaiming what you do. Stop posting about your truths. The right and left hand should not know what the others do. Young gun. Bible bearing piety. I eye thee. You’re so unaware you get so many blank stares as you put that “please like my comment or post underneath my fames” status up there. Many a man will pat you on the back. Good vibes you might rack. But God’s judgment on His leaders you will have stacked. God’s glory is not your trophy wife. It's ageless, holy, and sacred. We are dying, fickle, and unwise.

All of this. God detests. He detests this.