I am ready An arsenal of words Organized for impact I am right! You are wrong! I’m will show you the errors of your way. Then… The sun rose over the hills The dainty green leaves Of the Pepper Tree Danced in its warmth. Birds flew over Delighting in all the Night’s rain had uncovered. Why do I need you to Think - my way Believe - my way Live - my way No other creature does this They just live - True, they may eat you And this is always an option But in the light of day The beauty of the red flower The boldness of the cactus And the gentleness of the sage My duty of righteousness Turned to gratitude My arsenal of words Turned to song And my anger To joy
It's 5 AM and 75 degrees The stars sparkle across the sky Shining just enough light To make the palm trees look scary. There's a gentle breeze, but it does not cool. In the distance, windows begin to illuminate as wake over-takes sleep There’s a sound of nature In the distance, the four-legged type, and the domestic creatures take note. What will this day hold? Work and school Family and kids Life will take hold soon and if we aren't careful, May consumer us. My friends grandfather may take his last breath today, Yet, there will be others who will take their first. A few more windows illuminate and a few less stars are visible. In a short while, the sun will begin to glow from behind the hills Its’ blaze will extinguish the stars. But at this moment, it's 75 degrees - and the stars sparkle across the sky.
The voices of disapproval Echo in my head. Your voice is there Telling me I’m not good enough That’s it’s my fault That I’m the one to blame. The sound plays in a loop Like a broken record But there’s no one To remove the needle. The voices of shame Smother me Preventing me from stepping out. The voices of disappointment Stop me from trying, They talk about what Should have - Could have - But didn’t. Though not audible to others They are deafening to me. I fight them Try to ignore them Put them in a box And hide them. But they ooze out Like a warm, sticky glue Clogging up my brain space. I don’t know why I listen I don’t know why I care Yet, I wait for someone to Pick up the needle And bring it to an end. There is another voice in my head It’s always been there It’s quiet and gentle Easily drowned out Rarely does it shout Never does it interrupt I can only hear it In the quiet. Today, as I sat identifying All the other voices And contemplating my demise I found a piece of quiet. Today, my other voice Gently instructed, “Pick up the needle And get on with it!”
Jealousy, Hatred, Envy, and Insecurity These evil fellows I’ve come to know. They slither and scheme Watching and waiting, Sensing the second My guard is down. Their attack is sharp And so deep It stings and bites Exposing my scars. They blindside And de-rail At moments Most vulnerable. They’re disguises Are cleaver Some days looking A little to much like Me and …you. They’re nasty basters Born in the pit of hell Claiming all As their victims. They’re weapons Are words For they know The pain they inflict To strangle, suffocate, trap, and confine. I’ve found But one escape From these evil gents, To dive deep into My well of love, And stay immersed Till every crack, crevice, And broken part filled. Their attack is quick My response quicker. Intended to wound I to heal. They desire engagement I desire peace - Which comes when I quietly … walk away!
The ground below me has liquified, And the path no longer exists. The voices of caution behind me, warn of danger outsides of this. Through the mist and wind I sense him Standing just out of reach But the ground below me has liquified And a clear path does not exist. He could have calmed the surf He could have stopped the rain He could have warned me ahead of time, But that is not his game. I’m stepping out of this sinking boat and leaving familiar behind. The ground beneath me has liquified And there are no footings close by. I feel the warmth of his hand on mine And my fears melt away. He greets me with a gentle smile That tells me it’s Okay. The safety of my boat is gone Along with the voices of danger The wind, the rain, the raging surf Threaten to take us under. But He and I walk step in step and I squeeze his hand a little tighter The ground beneath me has liquified And I am walking on water.
Our rhythm of life has been a syncopated mess Stealing beats and melodies That didn’t belong to us. Keeping up with time changes, Incidentals, and accidentals. Trying our best at improve But the riffs and jams were always just a little off. Our rhythm belong to no one but us. So let’s stop playing composed tunes And craft our own song. In our new rhythm, I’ll keep the beat And you bring the melodies. It will be a rhythm that allows us to breath, to create, And best of all too dance.