Wednesday, July 29, 2009


D eliberate neglect and abandonment
E ndured he on the way
R epulsed and resented
E nlisted by my shame
L ost within this darkness - our world
I ntoxicated with great pain
C an't I say I'm sorry
T he Father turned away from You
I n the time You longed the most
O n the cross You killed my sin
N eglected for my offence.

In Vice's Grip

In this vice
I am not free.
In its grip
I cease to be.
I am not mine
I am not Yours
I feel lost
This path I take
Dark and dreary
Casts me down
Keeps me weary.
I cannot stand
I cannot fight
I cannot bear
Your blinding light.
I cannot do
This on my own.
I cannot do
This all alone.
I need You now
I need You here
I need Your hand
To draw me near.
For if I die
Before I wake
I fear my soul
Would fire take.
Save me, Lord
From this path
Lest I suffer
From Your wrath.
Free me, Lord
From sin's clench
Lest in hell
Your wrath be quenched.

Blackhearted Lullaby

Blackhearted Lullaby

You're creeping into the way I view things
The ways I do things
The way that I think things through
Yeah you're creeping into
The way that I run my life
You sing me to sleep each night
With a blackhearted lullaby

I want to hear a different song as I fade into night
Let me listen to angels voices
Sing praises to God on high
To block out the noise of beautiful lies

A lullaby crafted by the worst in this world
It turns light into dark
It makes wrong seem so right
Work of the devils hands
Makes evil rhyme so sweetly
As it put's my conscience to sleep
With a blackhearted lullaby

I want to hear a different song as I fade into night
Let me listen to angels voices
Sing praises to God on high
To block out the noise of beautiful lies
I want to hear a different song as I fade into night
Let me listen to angels voices
Sing praises to God on high
To block out a blackhearted lullaby

Monday, July 20, 2009


Luke 23:34; Isaiah 53:7; Matthew 5:44

F ather, forgive them; for they know not what they do.
O h, Lord! How could You have spoken so?
R oguishly both Jews and Romans treated You, but
G racious were Your words of compassion for the foe.
I nnocent of any guilt, yet You did not protest;
V icious could have been Your speech, but an
E xample You chose to set in that
N eighbor alone should not be the receiver of our love.
E nemy also should we bless and
S end prayers for them to God above. Thank You, Lord, for
S howing us at death what You taught us in life: forgiveness.

The Heart is Desperately Wicked

bloodshot eyes as he takes another sip of the poison, sip of the poison. he knows it's his bane; he knows it's his shame. so why does he drink? why do you think? the explosion in his brain has for a moment gone numb, for a moment gone numb. Thus to dust by rust and lust; condemning his trust; destroy him this must.

Oh, friends, I'm sick - sick - sick and tired of these charades - reality fades - down, fallen - rust-rot and rotten - corrupt by my luck - like vampires they suck - all of the life from the eyes - the light from the veins. my hate dries the rains - embraces demise - of all the good, as it dies - unfortunate that it never existed - extorted and twisted, polluted-like thoughts - as life rots, and it rots. "Farewell the tranquil mind; farewell content" - it's not what I meant. My facade is o'r-spent - you see, I've bent and I've bent - all the words that you meant - for good, into wood -that's decayed and dismayed - by vanity's spade as it should, like the wood, earth and un-earth - all the lies laced with flies - maggots that cry - from the
wound as it peels - cracks, burns, and scabs over with red, black, and white. - enveloped in night - no starlight this time - no amber beams of soft moonlight to caress this lonely, broken heart.

This raving may seem rampant, verbose - unseemly and gross - but this is my heart - the depraved, sinful part - forgive what I've writ - laced with dark, subliminal wit - it's not meant - to condemn or promote - this bile that i've wrote - but perhaps in it's despair - the reader can have a care - as I now illustrate a life - that has consciously cut himself off of the vine - take heed as you read - this writer, he
bleeds - and who drew this the blade across the author's nape? - none but himself - so gawk as I gape - my wound is fresh - fresh and red - with the blood that I've bled - and before I am dead - take the words that I've said - take them to heart - Your life is not yours - to have and to hold - This warning's not new -it's tattered and old - and while men's hearts grow cold - Satan's grows bold - so abandon your rights, your will, and your pride - cast yourself down - and stretch your arms wide - for your life is truly on the line - with each breath that you take - you have that much less time - so if you are fake - don't think that you're fine - so maybe you've fooled all of us who now watch - but beware - have a care - you'll soon have a double share of despair - and soon write a rhyme that is darker than mine.

What Changed?

What Changed?
May 2, 2009

When we first met you were so beautiful to me
Your smile was so pretty, your eyes so dark and happy,
and your hair would glisten in the sun

You said you liked my laugh, my smile, the way my eyes
would light up when you walked into the room
Now those days are gone

You no longer look at me with the same fire in your gaze
Now, I would be lucky to get your attention passing you
on the street; and when we talk, it is as if we are strangers

You said that it would be ok--you just needed some time,
some space
I was ok with that

I could wait--you were so worth it; I was holding on to hope:
False hope
You told me you didn’t have feelings for me anymore; I just
wasn’t “the one”

All those notes you wrote me, the ones saying what you
admired in me and that you were thankful for having me
Now they mean nothing

Did you mean it at the time? or was I just another one of your
Every time I saw you my heart would stop for fear that its
beating would drown out any word you said

My heart still stops every time I see you, but only because
it hurts too much to remember the pain

What changed?

Wednesday, July 8, 2009



Once upon a time,
not so very long ago,
When cavemen roamed the earth,
and earth was caked in snow,
Upon a certain day,
a little girl was born,
In the bleaker month of May,
she was sad and forlorn.

She spent most her years,
of childhood and youth,
In lonely, bitter tears,
a victim of this truth;
Oh, sure, she had a sister,
a fun and fuzzy friend,
But she had not a brother,
companionship to lend,
So she cried, and cried, and cried
forsooth, she almost died.
Until a dark October,
when ghosts no longer hide.
Upon that Hallow's Eve,
a little babe was born,
Orange Popsicle in fist,
eating some candy corn,

The little girl now thought,
that this may be the one,
The brother whom she'd love,
E'n as he sucked that thumb.
She picked him up and and held him close,
but he began to cry,
She scolded him, and sang a hymn,
his cries just would not die.
"Dear little bro'" -she pinched his toe,
"please stop, we can be friends!
But if you don't, love you I won't,
and you will serve me till the end!"
The child paused, relaxed his claws,
to give her candy corn.
She smiled at him, and sang again,
but her song hurt him to scorn.
You see, her voice was far from choice,
for she was merely five,
Each off-key note crooned from that throat,
to him was homicide.
He wailed and wailed, till he prevailed,
her song had been suppressed,
She set him down and kicked his crown,
and hence they both became depressed.

As the years passed, their hate amassed,
each one's for the other,
She, like a lord, with regal sword,
reigned o'r that poor brother,
But as he grew, the brother knew,
he would be big and strong,
He'd win a fight, just one - he might,
he'd make her see her wrong.

So one fine day, he ran away.
the sister had said "No!"
He didn't care, he was prepared,
his colors now to show.
When he returned, the sister spurned,
said, "You must do just what I say!"
He said to chide, with growing pride,
"I now am free of you this day!"
She screamed and shrieked as she attacked,
The brother took the blow.
She slapped and smacked, and kicked his back,
but never fear did brother show.
He now returned assault with fight,
and the battle had begun,

First the table, then that chair,
She scratched his face, he pulled her hair,
He spat at her, she slapped him hard,
She called him 'dumb', he called her 'lard',
He bit her hand, she bit his nose,
She hit his head, he tore her clothes,

As the smoke cleared - and yes there was smoke,
The room was strewn a-mess, but no words were spoke.

I don't know how, and I don't no why,
But after that - hate began to die,
And as it died, so did the pride,
That had made us bitter foes,
Now dear friends until the end!
How could this be, do you suppose?
I think that God, in His loving love,
Knew that we should be good friends.

*Happy Birthday Little-Big-Sis from your Little-Big-Bro!*