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Swan Song of 2021

Mighty brave, might somehow seem,

Of this child’s millstone swing.

Rest today, swept away,

Choking out freedom’s say.

Swung low, kid not mine,

Stinging sweet of hellish grind.

Black and bluish touch to drink,

Keeping bones of rake-hell weep.

At that time the disciples came to Jesus and asked, “Who, then, is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” He called a little child to him, and placed the child among them. And he said: “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever takes the lowly position of this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. And whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me. “If anyone causes one of these little ones—those who believe in me—to stumble, it would be better for them to have a large millstone hung around their neck and to be drowned in the depths of the sea. Matthew 18:1-6

-dedicated to the lost children of perdition-

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The Why behind the What

I will say I tried 3 times in my 20’s to cut myself to death; the last time I almost was gone, lost a lot of blood.

I’ve been Self Harm free for five years in counting thanks to Yeshua and Mercy Multiplied.

I went to do business with God, and it sucked but I still ‘showed up’ and daily we all have the ability to show up in life.

My depression emerged after my gastric sleeve and antidepressant malabsorption I’ve only recently 8 months out, had some sense of equilibrium.

At the core honestly, why I don’t off myself now, I do not want to answer from My Lord, ‘Hannah, I had so much for you, why darling?’

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You’re Asking

And during the wars, we decided dancing was the better escape then victory on some unknown field.

A world war prior trenches were made consumption overtook us, and we lost our step, our rhythm was off, a march of hile Hitlers instead of passionate one two three fours.

Snapped turned into a world war two fiaschi famengo dance.

Bodies line the streets, these that once passon sucked out of them.

Red lipstick is a females war paint. Beware her charms and her bite.

A painted face can call to righteous war, or can be a seductive blush, red herring.

Meant to draw others into war drum wake.

I dream in black and white, colors are plush and rare in the landscape of my mind.

I see a scarlet chid’s coat, I see painted white ‘keep out’ signs. ‘No Nazeratiens allowed’ ‘Irish need not apply’ ‘Keine Juden erlaubt’ 

For we are just strangers passing through this hell hole. Our home now is in heaven.

We are to Love what God Loves and hate what He hates.

God hates sin, God aphours the proud but gives grace to the humble.

God is oh so very loving God isn’t pigged sloppy grace that is peddled by many behind pulpits.

God is love, He’s also Just. God will return again with a rod of iron and the government shall indeed be upon His Shoulders.

Rulers will crawl to His throne, nations will fall under Him, they will be to give homage to the God of Abraham, Israel, and Jacob.

He is the Son of David, the LION of the tribe of Juda.

He Rores as a procession before His return.

He will make all things right, He will open the books and The Ancient of Days will take a seat on His judicial bench.

Those of us who are His children will have what we’ve done put through the mercy seat fire.

All mankind, women, men young and old slave and free alike have a Devine Court Date with The Almighty.

What will your answer be?

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I Taste

Palms that sing to touch, kisses sting too much.
Fire on my lips, holy ghost spit, holy hunger split.
Eyelids heavy yet can’t sleep.
Hunger hurt can’t keep.
1/3 cup of sugar makes a blue face.
1/2 teaspoon of high half-baked.
Tears taste like salt,
Mine a scarlet fault.
Haunting “XO” kiss hug,
Recall warm womb of blood.
I can still trace the scars that killed me,
Can still be tempted by the shrill need.

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God Defines Me

There is a keeping of faith brothers who dwell together, one runs his course and passes off his baton off to the next runner. I was at a memorial service today and it was such a lovely thing to see a faithful life live and now to be known as he is known.

The biggest lie is that servant-hood is slavery. No, in service comes great joy which reaches deeper than feelings. Joy is shut up in the bones of those whom God has kissed.

Our life kiss back to Him is to tell upon the mountains the wonderful things He has done for us and the things freedom cannot help but express.

Even when nothing is said, light shines through and bears witness of God’s Love.

The plural many-sided God trumps the dull singleness of sin.

A life freed from the grave is worth more than gold. As a brand plucked from the fire is one on fire for the Lord.

All will come to see one soul passionately ablaze for God.

This Love is beyond written description and deepens with Him as a time to maturity for resurrected bodies merge with our souls in the age to come.

The reason beauty is worshiped is that human hearts long for that eternal beauty that crown of life awarded to those who run their race well.

The single lopsidedness and ‘depth’ of sin leads to death, hell and the grave.

Whom a person serves before they die, they shall serve eternally.

I personally know the struggle of the flesh and what it wants daily as Paul said ‘I’ die what I want I overcome by the Blood of the Lamb and the word of my testimony and don’t love my life to death.

What I want is daily nailed to that execution stake, I don’t turn my hand back and away from the plow that the Lord has for me but I press up and onward to the higher calling.

I challenge fellow servants, repent, repent; turn from your evil ways and turn to the God who just longs to love on you.

I guarantee you will be persecuted by forces that seek your elimination. But, greater is He in me than the enemy of this world system.

One repents as a lifestyle, as a life choice.

I refuse the allow labels placed on me to shape me. God defines me, He leads me. He rescues me. I breathe in His name and breath out praises to Him.

Sometimes only I can say ‘help God’ and I am enough and accepted by Him, I accept me. What others think doesn’t rock my world, only Yeshua has my heart rock solid on fire for Him.

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Return

I see a nation bleeding on one knee, she’s not yet come to know that repenting and turning back to the God of Israel will heal her.

This God of all comfort longs to bind up the wounds of those broken. He is near to the shattered heart and the crushed in spirit.

Yet with scabbed legs, America rises thinking calls to prayer will bandage enough. Not so. She needs to stop eating her own children on the altar of convenience. She needs to return to the Biblical mandate of marriage, Male and Female created He they let no one tear asunder.

Is it any wonder her makeup runs in waters to overflow?

She’s burned on her west side, torn asunder in Mexico and wind tossed from storms that have ravaged her people.

Wake up America! Repent and turn from your sins and turn back to your Maker. Then He will heal your land.

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Lovely One

Tussled bed sheets, a smile with praise that drips as honey from my mouth.

Lord most High and Lauded One, most affectionately tender, sweetly bold in Your zeal over my heart.

Your Hands caress my heart, I see in my mind’s eye, You reclining beside me.

I see Your Hands stroke my mouth, ‘sing my darling only songs to Me.’

So envious yet gracious Your Eyes are; They have a Fierce Fire in them and yet in the dark they clear my face.

You are aglow about me.

As written by David: “Let His faithful followers erupt in praise, singing triumphantly wherever they are, even as they lie down for sleep in the evening.” Psalm 149:5

There are not any words to draw the way in which you extract my praise, the way you make love to me, the way you capture and enclose my heart, the way I climax in your Spirit.

As Paul put “he was caught up to heaven and heard things so astounding that they couldn’t be uttered in language, things no earth-born is allowed to express.” 2 Corinthians 12:4

I’ve seen the heavens and the praises of You God lifted high and above, Your trio seats and yet so much more in my mind’s eye.

Indeed, Lord, You are my lover.

My bosom is ruined for You alone.

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The greatest view of the past 

Music is the one thing that connects my soul to memories.
Silverchair reminds me of gut wrenching nights and self inflicted red soaked bed spreadsheets and too much ephedrine diet pills half out of my run on sentence mind.

Elliott smith reminds me of rose marching bands with the only muck left after the party being the long long long vomit in the kitchen sink with shadows pacing the floor of a fond farewell.

Alice In Chains reminds me of a tollbooth collector nightmare beckoning to feast upon sores that make a living milking scars.

Many other artists, lyrics, songs and intonations blend into a: ” Plea away, let the cables sleep darling”

I threw out depressions music once before and listen it still echos.

It’s why worship music is the only thing spinning these days, to keep away the life I walked away from. 

Be careful little ears what you hear, for the Father up above is looking down in love.

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I Tire of You

I’ll knit some tubing to,

Drain your Blotto fumes.

I’ll sort savage tidings,

From your forked falsehoods.

Vessels of hell dust,

First blood’s drawn.

Bottles slogged,

Askew and fall.

Bitterness your fact,

Regurgitate lack.

Your self-justification,

Torrent of cop outs.

Return like a man,

And shut your rancid mouth.

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