poetomachia

Blank pages Blank moments
Empty spaces my desert
My loneliness
fasting to slow down and leave space
Am I open?
Am I staying open?
Can I wait in the void?
Patience definition:
letting empty time be filled with nothing
more than good attitude
Giving my all means there is nothing left
Can I go to this place? Regularly.
Empty myself.
So much time spent avoiding the void.
Asking for filling but not giving much space.
Not just the spaces filled by sin
But anything which has held distraction.

Blink pages Blink moments
No spaces popular desert
Walk right into the center
Dwell in the gravity well
Find the suckiness of the black hole
Sell everything.
Audibly heard “Go to the desert.”
I’m finally at the edge
There’s so much sand.
Where’s the water?

I know you feel like
a highway to the sky
will help you get it right
will make your eyes catch fire
I know you want more
than you can ever have
a diamond in the sand
someone to hold your hand

and so you go down
kneeling by the shore
because you need another dose
something strong to fill your hole
and when you gaze up
and reach out in the night
and your trembling inside
then your water turns to wine

it’s there when you rise
there when you rise

I’m dodging your draft
I’m drafting your dodge
I will close my eyes
And everything will melt downhill
Leaving me standing
Like a redwood after a quake
Barely shaken, and grateful for the breeze

Like sutures, cruel in their pulling, mend
And boxer, set in bloody battle, contend
Is the violence of suffering healing
And the tangible crush of really feeling

The Father does not hinder
The climb out of misery
The beholding of beauty
The permeation of joy

Just a snippet:

You share but money can’t give
What the truth takes away
Throw it away

Takes away all the pretense. Powerful.

I’m punished for wanting more
I can’t get through the door
My large yearning
Keeps on burning
Consuming a beauty no longer
towner on the b-side wronger
Refilled coffee cup
Cheaper re-up
Stronger by a strange landing
Smoother by a finder sanding
O my aching head
All filled with lead

How do I put you on the throne
When I can’t hardly stand my own
Kingdom which I have under me
Who would want to rule it
The borders blurry, The land’s in disrepair
Inconsistent watering, poor fertilization

Are we broken by our pride?
How does it keep us where we are?
Momentum works both kinds of magic.
Holding fast and carrying far.

What will break the lie that binds
How quick to self-absolve
When we run from the quickly dropped
What amends or even resolves

It seems too easy to walk away,
from our damage. It is God’s
mercy but I am concerned and
worried about my ongoing lies
and the false ground folks move from.

fathoms unsounded
accusations unfounded