Lord, make me none

Fair is thy name
Great is thy mercy
Love is the cloth
With which you have clothed me

Leave me not now
Lest hate overcome
Give me more time
Though I'm still worthy of none

None of your healing
None of your love
None single breath
Breathed from above

I deserve none
I deserve none

Come now Father
Make me your son
Make me like nothing
Lord, make me none

No title, so there

You're burning through the faces you didn't know I saw
Forgetting every love you had that ever loved you too
You're a wing that's lost it's wind, your falling says it all
Where there was once your God, now there's only you

I'm much too lazy to email this to Sarah for editing

I can never find my victory speech amongst these trophies for third.
I'm the last place runner sreamin', "Dear God, give me the words!"
I wanna sing and sing aloud for something greater,
No more delay, no more "later"
And I don't sing for broken dreams, but I'll take a song of hope to a broken mess.
I don't want broken hearts strewn across my floor, an endless pile of nothingness.
I want wholesome life from the only one qualified to give it.
And, in time, maybe a wife with which to live it.

Well titled, we'll title it 'Titlest'

Oh my, what an unfortunate little cion
Happy of its new home, yet dangerously depraved since it left it's first
Depriving itself of a shoulder to cry on
And eternally hopeful that an unfulfilling sin will satisfy its thirst

And I'm watching a crow, a sparrow and a pigeon
Fighting over a hole in the parking lot, filled with water
They leave the bath clean but in the same condition
Like a flock out the gate, divided over devils' fodder

You drowned out your truth in the sound of the sea
Traded your devotion for desire next to the flame
You were never much for oceans until you made this new castle
Nor did you ever burn all your wood at once just to sit far from the blame

A desperate host scared to death of it's symptoms (yet giving no thought to the virus)
Take a deep breath little one, we'll soon find your way
We'll say hello to an old friend
You might even find the cure in the faithful's gentle sway

I'm not too concerned about the mud under your fingernails
Or the grime on your skin
I'm worried about the heart you say you lost
I know its there, I've seen it break and I'll see it again

I walk quietly and carefully to the waters edge
I hold a mirror high in hopes to guide you home
May the light's reflection pull you from your ledge
May you heed the call of God, drawing you from where you roam

I used to walk wherever I went

I used to walk wherever I went
Foot in splint, I now walk to the fridge (if that)
I'll say bridge, even if just for rhyming's sake
This is fake, has been since I started
If you now expect the word "farted", you were right
This peom's my plight, it is self-perpetuating
(It exists to exhaust my desire to create), no that doesn't rhyme
No purpose this time, no greater meaning
No deep (or shallow) expression for gleaning, no ideas
It just is, its creator saw no purpose and therefore it must not matter

But now it matters, 'cause you probably think this is some sort of expression of how life is nothingness
Now there's chatter because you think it's an allegory (that may not be the right word but I used it nonetheless)

(Do you honestly think that this is what I think or do you think this because deep down in your subconscious you agree with it
Or perhaps you desire that I think this is what you think that way you can share your thoughts with others that think I think that I have a problem with you and am expressing a deep-seated emotional twist)

That's not true, well, now it kind of is
There's now a fizz, an expression of some sort of deep-seated emotion
Now there's commotion, because I'm paranoid
I'm worried it's destroyed, I'm worried it's a joke played at my expense
But there's this God making it all make sense, and I'm not really worried just sad sometimes
Because they're chimes, quietly clanging together every lie they were told
"We're not that old" is not an excuse
But there's no use, you've decided that I'm a fiend and I have decided to love you with tear-soaked cheeks

Don't put words in my mouth. Please.

And I thought I'd leave these pages blank to hide my thoughts
But you just write your own down and scream, "It's all your fault!"

When I am silent, they criticize my song
I say one word and I've spoken far too long

But my words are meant to glorify my King
These pages to remind me why I sing

I'll number my kids but I hate giving titles to poems

I see the horizon, but it's just another day
Years more to sail before we find our way
Red skies this morning and rough seas to come
Come now dear lady, this storm will take us home

I locked your photo inside a shell too long
I commissioned too many artists, wrote too many songs
I replaced my compass with a pretty pearl
I traded direction for an imagined girl

And the sun was lost behind the mist
Bright and wet, my face it kissed
And left me bound by irony
High and dry beside the lowest sea

I'm losing sight of the boat, but not yet sure I've stopped sailing
I tighten up my coat and cease my wailing,
"I can't yet decide if youre a siren or a saint, but
Come now journey, come take us home, wicked ways have made me faint"

But home is on the rocky coast and it's hard to find the pier
So we'll crash upon the first rock we find and make an altar for our fear
Sacrifice the darkness and fast for light to come
Though I'm bleeding for another's sins and you've returned to where you're from