May The Earth Bare it’s Bones

I’ve come to stand in a whole new state of mind; inspiration cannot pass while a heart still yearns so if nothing else I have learned.

I have learned that I can not diminish the joy that you bring nor can I rid myself of the way my soul wants after yours; you have shaken me down to my very core.

I am the core of the earth, and you are the shifting plates at my mantel as I can’t stay still I remember how It must be handled.

To calm my very being I must poetically purge myself of these tremendous trimmers then my earth shall sit the plate’s thrust will grow dimmer.

I ponder such placement that my soul would grasp at yours though denial may sting determination cannot die; I told myself id get over it that was a lie.

I can not settle in more ways then one no person fits my standard that I’ve seen under this setting sun.

However as I first looked at you it seemed that somehow I truly knew.

So perhaps the quakes that make the ground quiver are just God shaking me grabbing a hold of my rib and shouting give it to her!

How I Fight My Battles

I need to write like i need to breathe, it is oxygen to my lungs when my depression acts as the deep vacuum of space. My writing whether it be poetry or my thoughts on matters of life makes sense to me things about myself i didn’t even understand before. My poetry often allots me the words to describe that which I did not know how to explain. The emotions of turmoil, joy, helplessness, and pure happiness all of these things fight with each other to be the subject of my thoughts. Often times in my poems one can even see the battle as it is waged when my poem starts depressing and leads to joy in the end. I firmly believe every tunnel has light at the end my writing is a way of forcing myself to the end of that tunnel. When one feels depression its strange, it grips a hold of you and wraps you up nice and warm, depression as I’ve stated before always feels familiar. The reason I bring up the familiarity of depression is this,  when one gets comfortable with depression it looks less threatening,  its tempting to let it hold you in it’s chilling grasp, to let it lead you into the deepest pits of despair. My writing forces a knife down on the wire that ties me to sadness and reminds me immediately of Gods love for me. My way of escaping the pain is to write but there are many other ways, find whatever allows you to hear the voice of God, whatever your blessed with,  whatever you’re talented at, that is where you will find your reprieve. The darkness cannot consume you if you radiate with light, so stay passionate my friends,  and let the Holy Spirit flow through you like blood through your veins, depression is a war that can be won.

The Winds of My Mind

I have a deep and painful wound, the bleeding will not stop; it cuts deep into my mind and makes it wither like a long dead crop.

  My fields are often watered, flowers do bloom, but the weeds they eat away at all of my produce, refusing to let it stay.

  So, I sway… in the wind, I let it blow through my hair,  the wind that I feel shows me that someone truly cares.

  I am filled with so much emotion,  some of it even rage, nothing feels right,  everything feels strange.

   The wind that blows across my land, flows over my wound and through my crops, everything comes alive, all it took was wind…to make the bleeding stop.

“S” Sounds

Is it strange to say that “s” is one of the strongest sounds, the way it severs in several way, or slices through what I say.

The “S” when someone speaks silently to your soul, the way it seeps easily through and takes control.

I sit as they tell me that I must stop, but I want to go, I want my own control; and so I tame the titillating sound of “S” I make it mine and I clean up this mess.

“S”? “S” is dead but I bring it to life this belongs to Me and through this powerful letter I will illiterate on meanings of living, and now I will use it to be giving.

The final “S’s” are to be safe and sound,I have learned what I must and my own meaning has been found.