Dark Poetry #4 |
Something About the Dark... |
green_itchy_stuff Senior Member
since 2003-06-26
Posts 1929New Caney, Tx |
In this place I'm so unsure of myself Is it clouds outside or rain I need to be free Of blank and confusing stares Make my voice clearly heard And sit in the palm of His hand I myself I get in the way My words are not always true Broken flesh surely bleeds I'm pushing past people And things in my way I need to hear from You God I need to hear you audibly say A word from your mouth to me And deliver up more clarity To chase my Hell away There is something about the dark Taunting me just to be happy... |
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© Copyright 2007 Kenneth Craig Rogers - All Rights Reserved | |||
Gifted Member
since 2007-06-26
Posts 140Caribbean |
Nice work GIS. I liked the honesty in this piece. Just remember that you'll always have demons to fight, but with God and St. Micheal the Arc Angel, you'll always prosper against them. Now I know you must hear this a lot, and you must have gotten tired of it, but the truth is... you have to pray. Trust me it works. Hope that helps. Peace. Love. Forgiveness. Blessings and Guidance |
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green_itchy_stuff Senior Member
since 2003-06-26
Posts 1929New Caney, Tx |
Makes me wonder why your name is "gifted"... (i think its obvious...) just to be happy... |
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BrittanyJ Member
since 2007-06-03
Posts 461Come find me? |
Wow, i've never thought of the darkness like that before, taunting i guess...i loved how you put it. Wonderfull poem. And i think gifted is right. You just have to pray Please excuse me, my heart is bleeding. |
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Purity Senior Member
since 2001-11-20
Posts 526Once Upon, USA |
I am reminded of something the late, great Rich Mullins said..."I love temptation...I mean I know it says 'lead us not into temptation,' but I'm more like, 'God, lead me just far enough to get a taste, but then pull me out of it.' ". I understand the taunting, and yet I know you are an old soul, friend, with whom the experiences are very purposeful. A very good write from you, especially due to your brutal honesty in where you are (which was phenominally done). Wings bruised from turning away in such confined space...Not broken...still healable...still feathered with life, somewhere |
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