What Sin Is [Not]

It is not a vacation.
It is not liberating.
It is not a slip.
It is not aiding.
It is not without
consequences at all.
It is not an inevitable
fate, will, or call.
It is not forgotten
by a heart or soul.
It does not lead
to a person being whole.
It is not often
the hard way to go
though often it is wrong
which we often know.

It is a thought process
that is so often odd.
It is a turning of a back.
It is a rejection of God.
It is a giving in.
It is an institution.
It is the despicable practice
of spiritual prostitution.
It can lead to nothing,
no effect immediately,
or it can hit a soul
on the spot, instantly.
It can lead to a dark place
full of panic and despair,
yet it can lead to the attitude
of lifting it up in the air.

Sin is a fire that burns
the bridge to God Himself,
one that burns eternally,
eternally flaming and felt.
Sin is that which discourages,
one that makes us want to die,
but there is an entity
that will allow us to survive:
Christ repairs the bridge
that our sin once burned
to give us a mercy and ending
we could have never earned.
He wipes the tears
from a swollen eye
and saves a soul
so that we may never die.
His pursuit kills that which
attempts to murder a soul
while He is simultaneously filling
each and every black hole.
God's merciful hand
that is all-encompassing
catches us on the fall
through the whining and fussing.
He never allows us
to be conquered by sin
for His love is eternally greater
as He proves here yet again.

Runaway Matter

Runaway matter
escapes from the brain
causing the muddled mess
to become convinced it's insane.
That which was found
to hold great importance
is now nowhere to be found,
not even in the distant distance.
From nowhere can the fugitives
be instantly captured
for the mind knows not
where to look (for it is ruptured).
The details that were pushed
into the recesses of the mind
poured out and over into
an eternal space in which I cannot find.
It is escaping now further
out of the floodgates burst open
into an ocean that cannot be searched,
not in this place, not again.
The matter that once mattered,
the memory that is now only a memory
will ne'er float back into this mind
as it has disappeared for an unending eternity.

Ignored

So many words to say
with so few ears to listen.
My mouth is bleeding
as my teeth begin to glisten.
The red flow of words
that sit in a pool to remain ideas
quickly floods the cave
in which those words are trapped just because.
There is no escape from
the dark places they were created,
no refuge found anywhere
as they are soon to be moot and outdated.
Feelings that once may have mattered
to the opening where they would come from
now matter not (even to the originator)
as now they are convinced to be petty and dumb.
Lines of negativity simply get broader
and rivers begin to overflow,
over the banks that cannot hold them
with nowhere else further to go.
The flood embraces the other purities
that are now to be destroyed
by the very attack that was once
ignored and simply said annoyed.
Perhaps this imminent death brought on
by that which others dubbed harmless
will serve as a lesson for others to gather,
that even a drip can become a tsunami when able to progress.

Forever Smile

She's more beautiful than
anyone who came before her.
She's got a smile that
goes on forever.
The pearly whites she flashes
come from an appearing happy nature,
one that seems so uniquely ingenious,
one that seems to have no cure.
She seems far too robotic
in her optimism of life,
one that seems free of worries
and never stricken by a day of strife.
She seems like no matter what
is done near or to her
she will keep that upside down frown
on her face, stronger than ever.
No matter what negativity
an opposition brings to the table,
she is more than willing
and always more than able
to twist words and saying,
to twist statements and desires
to that which only annoys
the opponent who quickly tires.
Even when others try to hold her down
she brushes them off with a grin,
a move she makes successfully
as the alternative she will never do again,
and that which frustrates the opposition
is what makes her truly incredible:
that phoniness despised by so many
is actually genuine and that which makes her, to others, indelible.

A Dry Cheek

Pick to let it come forth
no matter how much it hurts.
Let the tears come out
along with the blood from your mouth.
Admit your downfalls
to release your soul from entrapment.
Allow your heart to have a rest
from its self-imprisonment.
Open the floodgates that have yet
to allow anything either out or in.
Allow it all to go out and in
and allow it to happen again and again.
Allow your soul the chance
to escape from the trap being laid.
Allow your spirit the chance
to escape from yet again being prey.
Let down that guard that you use
to protect yourself from the world.
Let down that guard that does nothing
but hurts that which has already been hurled...
at least by most...
and let life happen to you once again
instead of the prayer that it passes you by
just so that you can, at the end,
say your cheek is finally set to stay dry.
Allow the flow to escape if that
is what your body and mind needs
for without the removal of doubt and fear
it will never be your spirit that can feed.
Just let it happen to you,
before it is too late to.

Razor Blades

Razor blades cutting
on chalkboards and mirrors
to give the wrists a breather
and instill more fears,
shrills so loud and vivid
curling with blood,
the rich red stream
becomes a flood.
The world is far too
harsh to be handled
as it is much easier
to allow a life to be dismantled.
Thoughts of a past life
that flashes before eyes
disorients the scene
hidden in weeds and lies.
The mind briefly tries
to focus on the thoughts
but instead decides to rest
as it has already fought.
Instead it will allow
ears to only listen
as scratches on the mirror,
in the dim light, glisten
and screeches of souls
past and already tormented
come to take another one
from a body, from a mind demented.

Believing the World's Lies

Walking their walk,
talking their talk,
we're trying not to listen
to them as they balk,
but we believe the lies
that the world tries,
with no attempt to disguise,
to bewilder our eyes.
These same fibs
widely believed by all
are thrown in a blitz
in a forest with trees too tall,
yet someone must
stand up to scream
words of truth
that someone can trust.
While the lines get confusing
(though some may
find that amusing at times,
it is anything but at this one)
we can't be distracted
by how they've reacted
but just keep going,
being pursuant on our way
with a mind
that knows,
as sure as the winds blow,
we must step up now.
This is our time.