Tag Archives: Spirituality

The Presence of God

Whether I step foot in church or not… I find a way to give Sunday mornings to a worship of God.
So many ways we find ourselves in a fight to hold on to our spirituality. In a world where Misery, sadness and pain is documented in ways that it finds us in all the ways we receive information.. Tv, phones, music, conversation, social media, books, magazines. If we don’t remember to stop and think of the things we have struggled thru, triumphed from and see the immensity of how when we least expect it, we experience the beauty of faith, conscious and belief. I look at my little niece and I see the miracle of confirmation in her growth, her love pure in innocence and I recognize that no moment. no day did God leave me without his very presence. A new year is always a good time to reflect on where we began and where we have arrived some don’t realize that the hearts desire has be sated in some way whether appreciate it or not. The place you worship, doesn’t matter.. I have went to different types of churches or even just via the internet and the refreshing feeling of getting that time with God is still there and replenish my soul to keep my soul, my heart and my mind within his protection. I smile when I think of the day I held my hands up above my head, palms exposed, chin to chest tears running my eyes and I prayed to God with no requests on my heart, just thankful that I had allowed my heart to be open to him. That day changed me, and it changed the entire energy of my life. Your relationship with any deity is yours alone. Never be afraid to give faith and belief a chance. It will change the vantage point of how you see everything. Be aware that God resides within… He gives us unconditional love and expects that you give that same thing to not just him but your world. See the difference in your days when u seek to Love as God loves you. If we all did this.. We could really have World Peace! Merry Sunday…

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Absence , Yours Held Me

in the mirror I see you,

their in the slant of my eyes

at your featured cleft copied to my chin

Can’t escape the you that’s is the beginning to my core

can’t take away from the four

identifying marks that label me yours

you aversion to love, you abuse of truth

I can’t escape which I was dervived of

Can’t erase what I arrived from

All of it a part of me

even the dark dingy parts that make me want to resists myself

violently, denying any parts of you reside within

as much as I want to use the word hate to combat the lack of love shown

with each hurt feeling bruise of your lack of action , I have grown

I know I can’t change you but use you as a propelled in flesh example of what not to be

you see even in the pain, wet from tears pouring like rain

those portals of rain became the chain of links that left me with truth

disappointment of desire to have arms circled around my misunderstanding

taught the lesson that even those issued jobs of caring won’t care if God is not present in their intent

to some extinct

the sadness has become pity

A sentence of infinity deadbolt locked to life, here in this hell fell beyond heaven

left to atmospheric us humans inside deep the soul lives

I know this life is to come to a close at some point

i feel the truth of humanity, the gift of this human suit made of leather repairing skin

which is done right one time will show that its all about appreaciation

appreciating the bad days along with the good

ALDAY

Your home as gritty as ghetto’s with shot soaring through the quiet nights

My hood no different, just without the sadness of others the binding of brothers by gangs

no rising brotherhood connecting me to sentimentality of feeling no my hood was small, just two you and I

as i began down the path of streets beat to avoid your face

my never dying disgrace to you lips

your taste for me had me stripped fom the seasoned food of my truth

Soon I would find out that your hood, your dynasty of control

was trully hood… it was a exit exam for elementary thought and enabled mind

so many of peers owned.. yes it was a hood of divinity and it expelled the weak and ignorant and built intelligent sympathetic warriors see Hood.. Was Heaven’s opportunity for me offerinig definitive characterstics.

A suburbian home of midlife love comfortable and daily the same

does not build believers of fight

Believers in the right of the common good

I did grow hurt and I did deter from the roads that others will call right

yet warriors training gladiators don’t come from homes of lies so perfect they feel like truth

with perfect youth tales all surface no lessons of shame, or eyes of change

A later in life successors comes fom the experience of life unpopular by popular belief

if smiles were not made to be appreaciated from previously understated or underrated

melodic sighs of relief

that I would be just a spoiled doll girl like so many peers still lost in the formindable years when me was all that could be heard fom their wanting lips

Those girls who played with the rounded grounds of attraction, firm booties, high titties and the  ability to just get without work

So I must say thank you for your damaging ways,  selfish days never producing conversations of my little lady warnings

the exception is “don’t be like me regretting babies wishing i was some other place other than here

The direct consequence is my eloquence,

my heartbeat strong, my fear only a motivation

my denying of mediocrity , my journey on a road to beliefs untaught by your presence inbred by your absentee parenting

Now I look over at my paiin and it seems so lame in compariion to what it is your feeling or hiding.This time I must admit

not so different fom you so confused and immersed in me

With the revision of faith and the appearence of belief, the admission of guilt

the action of accountability

My path now changed taking roads chosen by instinct, lesson learned consequence simple

when roads of right. treated quoted to our young learning,  one of the few truth from that

basic instructions before leaving earth booklet,

some learned before idea is first person, the bible

use it, to conform, read it for summation noy literal be valued for lesson as seen in, experienced shared i

this statement earned number lesson, how you retrieve the most abundant of blessings

treat those who your connection in all things as you have to you

powerful, but simple in its explanation no need for interruption

no belief, no movement, no revolution will differ in it’s exploration or delivery

it simply knows nothing of experience or sensation

for those not with words so pretty, it’s easy no detail

not doing what I don’t want relayed to me

Its alot heavy yet,

Yet, so easy to carry,

Unlike that wrong which was lite, difficult to carry

infectious consequences side effect crippling

Manipulating the mind,

Deliberate retreats to sell illusions, graphic delusions,

I resist this I won’t apply, your inability to to look outside I

Yet, me the I inside is the only 3Ye used to see, speak, or feel,

I do not have to apply those learned behaviors

Instead, ideal earned by nurturing the difference I see

So I click back, Undo, the application permissions,

hating me for hating the you in me

i forgive my reflection for it’s likeness to you

yet if I forget to trust that raw inner feeling

test ahead for faith, notification

I find the beauty of letting go and letting GOd.

He made me of you so I could take care of you

so I might as well take the express train to acceptance

your never going to change

That story is gone so old , its time to start a new book, a new story

a new page

 

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Filed under a rant of love, change, Choices, desire, destiny, Emotion, gratitude, growth, influences, life, love, relationships, The Me Files, Uncategorized, women, you

Bed Made

I am not about being the oppressor, being the one to call your bluff

but what the fuck…

Do you know how many good women are sitting at home praying for a good man to walk through the door and be home

lay his hat on the coat rack, his briefcase at the door

How many women who put up with bullshit

just wishing he was the right kind

in his right mind

will stay the night this time

and you have one who has offered you everything to just make him your play thing

Okay men have played the game with hearts for centuries

it might even be coded into the chromosones before they are multiplied cells

for it seems that on average it is a commonality that men

treat hearts with brutality

Especially after they have  played honestly once to just be played

Yet if I calculate the stories of true pain

I mean the kind that change the core of belief in love

then men seemed to be the most effected. Us ladies

must be tenacious

able to fogive and move to the next without the penalty of war crimes

holding us hostage

The male ability to logically repeat with the next

the same beginnings of the ex are simply

not as easy for them to comprehend

so why with the knowledge would use your womb

to gain access to not just love but security

taking our greatest possibility

to being living proof o miraclous beyond the high

beauty

why would you use his seed to feed your body

decorate your homes or to right his wrongs

for as you laid in the made bed

you lead his heart with his vulnerabilty

his need to connect emotionally already

without your legs opening you were in the zone of wrong

see his heart don’t beat so fiercely or as long

built with the belief that men provide and not complain

that while hurt is universal without name or claim

told to blink back leaks fom expressive eyes to square shoulders

the wars of emotional tyranny are told to be released. when hurt in this life, against  the world… son you fight…

is that what your going to teach the son you just gambled

when you  played, plotted and trapped his daddy with his physical pull to lay with you

penetrate you, copulate knowing after he pulled out he probably would walk out

All you had were thos sensually driven moments, those honest words he spoken a million days ago before you showed the holes in the script you you wrote with the intent to make him yours

when he implicitly said, no desire to wed, no desire for forever, just need this.

this hit that i will manipulate with lip to lips sweet touches some define as kiss

Now his child that he loves with whole cognitive not intent freely and completely

no desire to be so running like forrest unless toward this creation of two even if the half was you

the woman who he hurt then repented loved again but then

you played him, with the perparation of making his station in this life to also include father to soon

a baby wasn’t something he hadn’t projected to be added to his life, just not befoe he asked his heart desire to be his wife and he was hurt mostly because you knew about the blueprint he had designed for his accession to manhood

no what’s up hood, no banging gangs, no baby making for mama’s to define him

you said that baby was not in your current plans reciprocated his desire to just be a young man and you the woman to compliment him

You knew and you said you would never do that type of thing to a man

never use his youthful lust and his naive love to be the glove

that fit his fear just to keep him near

no babies frivolously made friday nights in his bed

you know what you said

I don’t mean to judge but I know him without the romance of sexing, texting cute hellos

I know him beyond what he protrays

what he sells for interest, understand the truth he didn’t onfide in you because he was afraid you yell dismiss instead showing him glossed lips to kiss

I know he said he loved you to, he did, and still hold love for you but what you did was wrong

now you are the predator no greater than he before you told him he would be a daddy

the only true risk in this game you play is that seed that fertilized that egg and lays present before the eyes.

Already it defies the ability to not believe in love

but jealousy is where the beauty dervived from

now barely surviving your truth

“Daddy isn’t dead, and no he does love you…it’s time I tell the truth”

Mommy told daddy that you… interject and inspect the truth

Before you bleed out your ability for complete selfishness

adolescence will need truth and daddy.

Don’t allow the bed you have made to be made for you child to

Teach him that while every descision won’t be his best

how fortifude is the most acclaimed of life heroic actions

to bravely go forward toward redemption

 

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Chosen Mayhem

In this life we meet several crossroads and for almost 60 percent of our in awaken states are at pivotal points of transition. I have been in a stagnant point of career transition and in an evolving emotional transition for the past year of my life and am feeling moments of eruptions bubbling at my core. I have dreamed of writing for most of my life and have been told that to do it is to write daily but mostly would never be a dream realized. I have been mostly inspired in times of overwhelming moments of unrequited love. Or I have been entirely inspired in states of a feeling I have identified as love and I have tired of just loving and have yearned to be loved yet now the most inspired moments have been in moments of intellectual and cerebral states of lackadaisical and lonely activities. But most of all for most of my life I have chosen dramatic Mayhem. In days of normalcy as the world has put it, I have been stagnated by the process of living and therefore have used likely moments to earn money. The jobs have been boring mundane versions of sales and customer service jobs that become catalyst to seek out the Mayhem of the unknown, the worldly unpopular and I had let the inner voice to write die within me but then I found love years ago with a she version of male roles and the dramatic mayhem arose from illicit behaviors and my pen began to move inside of my heart, my mind and then my hand. The stories that have come from titled experience is a contaminated puss of life’s infection and it’s gory and a chosen Mayhem that has labeled me a self destructive problem among my family and friends, yet now the dream to never be realized seems real and the emotional growth stunted years ago is in a growth spurt. The marriage of my heart, soul and mind has bore children of faith and confidence. Yet to be a winner among the eyes of the world I must produce something. Late this evening doing what others find as problematic I have began to think of ways to prosper in this world of calm a new type of productive chosen Mayhem free of negative influences, people and love unrequited. A new active force of myself that allows me this normalcy that world desires of me, a forgiveness of those and a unpolluted day to day magnet to what is good. I want to write and I have been doing so in states of emotional tyranny in states of inspired awe and in states of out of mind highs induced by narcotics, be it the wine from a store, the blow from a party, the grass from a freedom thinker, the speed from the forlorn doctor and I love all those different states of me as much as I hate thinking of rent, bills and days without a man who has chosen a woman for sexual sales over my faithful dedication to he and I am wondering will they applaud my “writers” honesty when my pages are printed or will they baffle their own perceptions of what they thought judgments to the point of hating the me that is revealed the girl who enjoyed her chosen Mayhem. The woman who has found a faith in a God so many use as a weapon instead of a common love supplier dealing his forgiveness as willingly as the neighbor dope man deals his dope. Will the world always see the different as crazy and will I be labeled and filed under that category myself.
I am of the crazed creative clan that feels music when it plays like vibrating touches, notes scaling the skin and words permeating the air inhaled like oxygen. I am a watcher of movies who sees the beauty beyond the words but in the depth of the lessons that love is the true currency in this life. The eyes that see the fear in the dialogue lost to monsters for they are products of true hate of the different and unloved. Jason killing for the desire to be taken to trick or treat yet left to the pain of youth, the freddy burned for his childlike innocence to the point of corrupting dreams yet most see just the killing the blood but care not of why? Walking the reality streets of our everyday world as the high rise building house zombies seeking only more green tinted number denoted pieces of paper for status so why is exhibited and never needs to be investigated. Yet the mayhem they have chosen is acceptable in the eyes of this world and still the homes of this fanatical currency chasers still desire what their why can’t create. Love and companionship. Their stereos blast words of bitter, brave, longing, touching, feeling lyrical prose that darkened hearts have bleed, sweat and cried to have heard while they down sweet darkened spirits, inhale green image provoking trees, inhale chemically crowning white clouds, to quiet the pains of those they pass, to dull the leech like fire of loves emotional and mental pulls. Then they croon, write, paint, create versions of emotions that these others cannot explain yet somehow relate to when see, heard, or even tasted as we starve for their comforts, yet smile more days, cry more days, draw from more faith then they. It was a chosen mayhem to walk among the emotionally dying, be lost to the darkness of misunderstood pain and just ask why? Why are you angry? Why don’t you believe? Why not me? Why did you? Why do I? Many laws with I didn’t comply. Many rules left broken. Yet many souls have called to me to just be heard, asking for my way with words to transcend what in me was broken, to be the gateway, their love the token to pay my way to entry into the minds of the zombies who ask me to chose the mayhem that can be noted acceptable, I wasn’t detectable so I rode alone until they asked me to share that sweet brown spirit or inhale they tree, and there is where the story began to seep free…

Find Me In My Written Word

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