Busted boots and broken buckles Seasoned scars and signs of struggle Hollow heart and helpless hustle So much harm, the world is shattering— Do not conform! What you see may break you down,
I could not climb the mountain to reach Victory. My own blood had to be shed for a clean slate— But You did it for me. Filling my cup with good deeds, I
Crushing crystallized snow toward The ice’s edge. Brother ran and Slid long solitaire, rubber boots Rasping. I hedged, then stepped Steady out to where he stood. Gray sky hovered over silver Lake.
The trees glow under the yellow lights, And acorns crack beneath my feet. The wind whips down the leaf-strewn street, Taking little leaves for little flights. Crystal dew blankets the blue grass, And
It’s windy out. The Fall has come. The trees Drop their leaves On my lawn. But I am man. I was made for this. It’s windy out. Leather gloves and rip-stop
At one Sunday lunch in early July, I built up an army of how’s and why’s. Denial was reeling; emotions, stirred up, led to cracked hearts and glass cola cups. I
Thou art not the morning, Though thou art still and quiet. Thou art not the night, Though thou art cold and dark. You’re a slobbering slave of Belial, A creeping, disembodied soul
Give me October— Its drooping, sleepy leaves, Its contemplative fog, swimming in softly On the backs of somber sea turtles. Give me the Jagged blades of sunlight at morning, the crisp and Fragrant
My sister didn’t mind the touch Or tickle of the sea; More so, the icy fingertips He used to capture me. My sister loved the salty air And skipped toward the waves,
Falling, O Lord, hear my desperate cry! Plunging far from Your eternal presence, Perplexed at my consistent condition–– From my miserable state, rescue me! Save me from despairing reality. Calling, O Lord, hear
“This generation!” they say. “Disrespectful. Irresponsible. Undisciplined. Unteachable.” These are words I’ve heard them use to describe you. And sometimes I have too. But it’s a mistake. They don’t know.
There, mountains rise, Clothed in pine trees, Veiled in wisps of cloud or shadows, Or bathed in morning light; Rolling hills are bare with fields And capped with trees; The morning dew smokes
When I see eyes of a bright blue hue, Reflecting a precious soul in two spheres, I cannot help but marvel at their beauty And wonder at how they resemble the sea. When
In the other world, I can sense when trouble is at hand And resolve each problem that I meet. In that world, I can heal injustices And counsel lost souls with prudent voice.
The inability to love: You search and find the one! But your past: Burning up inside of you, while cold and lonely. The cold and loneliness disable you. The inability to love feels
I want to have lunch with a red-lipped girl and make her smile, To call her the flesh of my flesh and hold her hand without guilt or fear. I want to make
Laughed at, scorned, and alone, Looking for a direction to go— Lost in the crowd, longing for a friend. You're told you are helpless, never shown A way to grow— Battered and tired
When I was eight years old, a doctor told me I had a disability, And deep inside my heart, it didn’t bother me; What bothered me was how the world portrayed it