FAITH

Some things are beyond our control and beyond our understanding, sometimes we can’t brace for the fall or decide where we are landing. Our faith should build its momentum and draw strength from adversity but instead the lack thereof causes us to be our own worst enemy.

What does it mean when you want to cry for years but the pain is so great, you can’t produce the tears? Every time adversity strikes, I wonder what God knows about me that I don’t know and where my faith will take me if I let my fear go. Faith and fear don’t mix, similar to oil and water, having faith to recognize you need Gods grace but too much fear to ask the father.

Walk by faith and not by sight – blind faith- but too often my faith is blind, I can’t call it faith if I continue to look behind or second guess God’s time, he promised I would get there, he didn’t say there wouldn’t be hills to climb.

Circle of life/hate/love

I allow myself to hate you – one of the rawest emotions, is it even my choice or am I a slave to my pain, addicted to vengeance? I’ve been praying to let the pain go. I pray that it suffocates from the hands of my epiphany – the hate brings me down while God uplifts me – contradictory?? It is, I can’t explain how it works, on the surface I smile but deep down I still hurt. I’m hating my way back to love again, full circle it comes. Full circle from tears to joy, full circle – backwards, begun… Begin..a new beginning, the circle has no ending, while I cry I open my eyes to the message the circle is sending.

worD.Smith

Blow out your life!…but first…make a wish

Blow out your life! But first, make a wish, gazing on a star, seal it with a kiss. The totality of our existence is contingent upon God, but the power to move within our purpose is a struggle all its own. To blow out, is to magnify to see the bigger picture my road map to success can be found within the scripture. There, I’m gleaning, pray to find meaning rejoice in purpose – singing. I don’t know how it will end but I knew where to start, making myself available for God to speak to my heart. I blow out this life, in order to start a new, you won’t be able to touch the finished product once God is through.

worD.Smith

Will Write for Love

She wasn’t in love with me, she was in love with my words, seduced by my synonyms vindicated by my verbs, nestled between my nouns, she lusts for what she heard. She applied pressure, positioning, patiently between pages perplexed by what I penned. By her facial expressions you’d think alteration was a sin.

She wasn’t in love with me, she was in love with my words and the artistry that it sparked, she loved to drive into my mind and put her heart in park. Catching my thoughts in a basket before they left my psyche, I tricked myself into thinking, the more I wrote that she would like me. But, she wasn’t in love with me, she was in love with my words. So I write down my pain, trials and aspirations, I feverishly write for love in desperation.

worD.Smith

F.E.L.L

Fantasies exaggerated limits life by cutting off your air supply and making fools of the birds who don’t realize their wings have been clipped. Now, they either fly in circles or can’t fly at all, they fall – F.E.L.L – not far enough to reach hell, almost able to see the door, close enough to hear the bell. F.E.L.L. For Ever Living Lies because its harder to die in truth. Chasing emptiness – continuous failure in pursuit. Refusing to weigh the pros and cons before you delve – F.E.L.L. Forgetting Eternity – Life Less, reduced to a mere mortal walking amongst the righteous, no longer of value – worthless, succumbed to the spell -F.E.L.L.

worD.Smith

Where the grass is greener

Cast into complacency, but success requires work, thought I could label it love if I just “showed up.” But the meaner the demeanor, I examine how I treat her, will I make it last forever by covering her left ring finger? For a moment, I close my eyes to go where the grass is greener. A place I conjured up, it doesn’t actually exist, but the more we disagree, I wish that it did.

Where the grass is greener. Browner leaves, fall has fallen – a sip from youth’s fountain – hearts are talking, meaningful conversation, no words wasted, nor are the emotions. Every minute counts – in real life, I just count the minutes. Here, I’m superhuman. There, I count my limits. Here, there’s no limit to love. There, this belief is augmented. Here, truth lies in every soul. While there, they are all demented. There, I’m emotionally drained. Here, I stand replenished. Here I’ve just begun. There, I’m completely finished.

worD.Smith

We only knew the surface

He masked his anguish when he smiled…deceiving all who crossed his path. Tears mistaken for perspiration… He was on top of the world when asked. Buried by his demons grasping for air, couldn’t put his life into words for fear that no one would care. This mask that lied to the world , as he fought for mental health, the greatest battle he ever fought was found within himself.

worD.Smith

Inspired by PSALMS 23

We can not deal with death, not in its purest form. For we only dwell in the valley of its shadow and fall at its feet. We fall to temptation, hate, lies and deceit. If that’s just the shadow, I don’t want to see death’s countenance, my life slowly ticking away – the reaper gladly counting it.
We often see death leaving or death on arrival, but to look death in its eyes, is their room for survival? Death has so many angles – homicidal, suicidal – so many evolutions – from futuristic to primal. What it has to show us is more than an eye full. How do you claim victory over such a competitive rival?

worD.Smith

Life…Attainable..

Life flashed before my eyes except, it wasn’t mine. Spawned from my ideology of what I thought life should be – on the outside looking in because the life wasn’t me. A parallel life inside my head – an intangible reality – although the tangible living seems dead. I hold what I know close to my person, while the life that I only dream abolishes my burdens. Who’s really hurting, is it me or the clone? This delusional thinking has invaded my home. I float through stages of introspection, but soon I discover that I can’t obtain success without facing my reflection. Confronting me, not them or the next man, focused on the Now, not the next plan, reaching for my glasses off the night stand, just so I can see what it is I’ve become. Pieced together my essence ( mostly made up of where I’m from) where I’ve been – my reaction to my pain (did I cry or grin) did I set myself apart or choose to blend in? All of this thinking, I came to a singular conclusion, that I have to make the parallel life my own instead of this distant illusion.

worD.Smith

Shooting Stars

Cocked and loaded(bulls eye) cutting across the cosmos, some say its hard to aim with your eyes closed. I beg to differ, if your intent is to destroy- continue to wear the blind fold, no one wants to face the reality so they will keep their blinds closed. Denial, ever present and continues the strangle hold. We discover that we’re sick, unable to stop the runny nose. So there we – BLOW -until the majority is comatose, numb to the facts while some poets write it in their prose. With each prolific word, they wonder, who will ignore this stanza? When their sole intent was to make sure that it grabs ya. But somehow left behind like many during the rapture. Step into a world..of shooting stars, lost before their prime, never reaching their full potential, while living is so sublime. Shooting stars – fallen stars plucked from the atmosphere, stopped before the movement, caught a glimpse of their lights’ shine until the bullets burst through it (translucent) – ever clear, clear and present danger here, dropped to the earth before their momma sheds a tear. Sure momma know love, but even that couldn’t stop it from ending badly, all things must come to an end, albeit – sadly, from cradle to the earth, Now in God’s hands, caressing shooting stars, is part of God’s plan. tragedy sometimes illustrates the disconnect between God and man, because when we lose the ones we love, its hard to comprehend.

worD.Smith