Mornings With You

Another one of my pieces that's really close to my reason for writing. This was many peoples' favorite around my friends and in the slam.


Mornings With You

there are nights that I dream
And each night i dream of you
becomes a morning i truly get to live.

And if I was given the chance to wake from those dreams
and smell the sweet scent of your breath on my cheek,
i would sleep on my side every night
no matter how much it hurt my back.

If i could dream of swimming in your eyes
and wake up each morning to their green serenity staring back at me,
I would never let you out of my sight
no matter how many tampons i had to buy.

Each morning I would take all my thoughts of you
wrap them up in a bouquet
and place them at your feet to hold when you awake.

I would scatter petals plucked from memories
all over the floor, leading to the kitchen
where i cook breakfast with all my promises to love you:

two stacks of buttermilk poems filled
with blueberry whispers of how perfect your eyes are
in the morning,

a dozen scrambled kisses
cooked just the way you like it
and planted all over your cheek...
or your forehead...
the end of your nose.

Id throw in two strips of
"i love yous" prepared firm and crispy
but declared oh so tenderly
and wash it all down with a glass of all my prayers to God
asking Him how i ever lived without you.

And I would watch you eat ever so slowly,
begging God that every ounce of my heart
given to you provides nourishment and truth to your precious soul.

and if this
was all there could be for us,
if this was all that was written in our love story
and we had to relive this moment over and over again
till our intimacy meets in paradise with its author,

i would live my life to turn each page
and dream of you once more.

Ok so, I've had some trouble wanting to post some of my most intimate pieces, especially the one's that really come straight from who I am. But it's all about being vulnerable before people and relying solely on His hand for strength. So here are a couple of my most naked pieces.


Cliche

Love poems are so cliché.

Romantics today have lost all originality.
We all seem to whine about love and pain,
beauty that torments,
eyes that are like pools,
or the way your hair smells like lavender.

Well, that’s not necessarily for me,
but i hate to think I would be a bad poet if I wrote about your eyes
and how helpless I feel every time they begin to dance with mine;

or the touch of your hand
and how weak I get every time you leave it in mine longer than just a friendly "hello.”

Or if I wrote of your laugh,
and though it's just a giggle
I am suddenly back at the dentist
floating above the chair
completely high on the laughing gas.


Well, I’m sorry I can’t think of flashy words
or obscure metaphors to tickle your imagination
and make you think I said something more beautiful
than the Northern Lights on a midnight darkness in January

but I have this sickness you see,
I have this terrible habit of telling it exactly like it is

so here it goes...



You are beautiful.


And that’s kinda all I got;
in fact, that’s all I've ever really had
and I dont care how many guys have verbalized, lyricized or scripturalized that to their "girl"
because none of them have ever said it the way my stomach screams it
every time you come around
and i still cant believe you havent heard it yet!

And what if your eyes really are like pools
except yours have become so full of the essence of God i call them OCEANS,
oceans to which i am scared to death to swim in
but i would take a torpedo and sink this broken ship
if it meant i could feel them loving me back for just one sunrise.


Or what if every time i catch a whiff of your hair
my daydreams really become fields of lavender
as i sit behind you staring into your thoughts
and a couple of rich, brown strands leap from the rest
just to dance on my nostrils

or what if i told you that when you smile...
all i have strength for is surrender.
My cares, my hopes, my desires and certainly these very words,
they are all forfeited just for your very beauty...
I cant even lift my arm in revolution when you look at me

And what if every time you laugh
i really can hear the songs of angels not yet fallen
and my future is secured on Eternity’s shores with you at my side, your hand in mine
because your laugh...

your laugh makes me want to die.

So call me cliché,
call me a terrible poet,
buy my book out of pity obligation with your couch change
and throw it on your forgotten shelf for the spiders to flip through as they spin their webs,
but at least their homes will be filled with a love that is real,
and they will know truth from the Holy Spirit dwelling within these pages.

And maybe one day you will decide to read it.
Maybe one day you will take it off that shelf and glance over these words,
and maybe then you will know

that when i say
your laughter is heavenly,
your eyes are greater than oceans,
and your hair is sweeter than rain...


Maybe then you will know...



that it's true.

Generation Truth

"I see a generation
rising up to take their place
with a selfless faith
a selfless faith"


Oh I see a generation,
not bound by laws or expectations,
not caged by all the "shouldnts" and "couldnts".
In fact, physics itself holds no chains on their worship

They have seen the truth like you
But they knelt refusing to turn away!
He has graced over the shambles of their broken walls
and now dwells within their very existence

AND NOW THEY ARE THE TRUTH!

We have lifted our heads above the ignorant muck
and seen a world become a wasteland of slaughtered sheep.

Golden oaks have sprung up bearing fruit
of what life was truly meant to be .
From the very depths of the sacrificed
they have broken ground;

our bodies have been slain at the altar of peace and fertilized the soil,
our blood has flooded the earth but nourishes the magnificent,
and His world has finally taken root in our very bones!

You want a bride!?
Well she's coming,
and she's coming fast!

So beware, timid Boaz,
Ezra rests in your sheets,
her offering lays before you
alluring you with all that was fashioned in a woman's soul!

You better take hold, Esau,
or your brother will run away with your inheritance!

and please...Sit down, precious Martha...
Please...
Your Lord begs only for your presence.

"I have seen the King of Glory
riding on the clouds with fire,
the whole earth shakes.
The whole earth shakes."

This is a Revolution
and I only have one question for you...

R U in to love?

Funeral Dress

So, I have writer's block and one of my favorite ways to work with it is to listen and read other works of art and tonight William Fitzsimmons is tearin me up so again this is not mine. But it does paint a perfect story of what God meant in a marriage and a relationship wholly focused on His Son and what the husband would say to his wife after death.



Funeral Dress by William Fitzsimmons

On a rack in a store for a discount price
But the color’s been changed to a black from white
Though the difference will prob’ly be lost on me
Anyways

And don’t worry if laughter is on your lips
Cause you wouldn’t be you if you changed for this
And I won’t measure love from the tears that drip
From your face

i can't wait for you
i can't wait for you

i suppose i should hope that it turns out fine
But I hope that some sadness does cross your mind
And you’ll look for me when you have crossed that line
Come one day

i can't wait for you
i can't wait for you
i can't wait for you