false-prophet

Ain’t no body 

want to talk

the walk of 

combust in this rust 

dust lust showdown

mutes in salutes 

of what’s really a

hit it and quit it

misfit frown tribute

only God wears 

the tears of this 

victors crown

only God has 

the last Hiss

case dismissed

so with regret

it suggests the let

of the I’s and why’s

that hide the blind 

in this pretend

flesh will end 

false-prophets 

made it hobbit 

to lie and guide 

cries insides

created confetti 

to cover all empty 

in the facades 

they’ll never be God 

all these tears

are snuffed out

from the shouts 

of rages caged fears 

false-prophets 

made it hobbit 

to never abide

in His Ray

to sniff and sift

the raid in

cheap lemonade 

ignoring the call

to fall as His Renegade 

misplaced paces

in Christian spaces

feeling the reeling

of no truth peeling 

rejecting the neglecting

of His Protecting

to play the delay

in not today 

night community 

is no real unity 

pressing send 

in pretend rejects humility 

feeding the bleed 

of looped ruses

doesn’t dilute the truth

in His Proof 

so choose refuse

man cannot confirm

only God affirms

His Return

true love isn’t logic 

true love is From Above 

true love has no tangibility 

false-prophets press play

in the decay

to stay in delay

misery is history 

to a false-prophet 

they say dismay

in speeches like leeches

feeds the need 

to have bleeds 

in the church unity

is really night community 

false-prophets create

the space in hesitate 

of disgrace in too late

seven-age difference

seven-caged dip for he

seven-raged jar for wrong she

wrong she births the hurt

of no worth sliding tar

in the shower 

God reveals midnight hours 

for His Stir True her

His Stir is blue times two

he + He + her

will always be true

that’s the path 

to godly math

& His Craft

only three is forever together 

not two in wrong hues

wrong voices feed 

the bleed of wrong choices 

false-prophets claim lame

to remain shame & tame

with: it doesn’t make sense

clearly, you’re wrong

making us broken tokens 

& feeling really dense

in an alienating throng

no revival

just survival

coldly, not boldly 

don’t believe 

just receive 

what man says

due to insecurity 

spiritually weird in

wrong counsel

false-prophets 

made it hobbit 

to play god in love

when God says no

false-prophets said go

planting the weeds

to grow as lust seeds

in a haze of rust bleeds

that feeds the need

of junkie funky craze 

in a grave of daze

false-prophets 

made it hobbit

flesh rejects confess 

mutes the process

salutes the facade

of playing god 

in this worldly sabotage

false-prophets 

made it hobbit

buffets the Obey 

to play selfish delay

to lead the bleed

in never today

by shining the lying 

only God looses

the ruse of undying 

false-prophets press play

in popularity over God’s Reality 

purpose is not the focus

the world is the locus 

to a false-prophet

remain sleet in the cold 

don’t burn in this unfold

press play in His Obey

to receive High Discern

this community has no unity

Be Still in His Gills

keep rejecting this cheap thrill 

this unenjoyable confetti 

will never replace 

the space of empty 

it’s all distractions 

to neglect the Obey Alignment 

and play decay confinement

to feed the lying need

of dying bleed 

to chalk the sleepwalk 

as a ribcage 

on the wrong stage 

in the cage 

of this wrong she wage 

Trust Me

Me is God 

almost there 

in this layer 

of flesh god facade

stay in the Ray 

in today of His Light 

hang tight

God is Mightier than Might

Ain’t no body 

want to talk

the walk of 

what’s going down 

combust in this rust 

dust lust showdown

mutes in salutes 

of what’s really a

hit it and quit it

misfit frown tribute

only God wears 

the tears of this 

victors crown

only God has 

the last Hiss

case dismissed

aimez vos côtes bleu

Poet’s Note: I just woke up from a disturbing dream, about my brother and dad fighting. Then my door opened, and a shadow of a man came in my room with a knife, intended to kill me. At first I thought it was my brother, but when I was praying when I woke up, and as I was writing this poem, God told me no, it’s other. 

I immediately started singing 🎼 God is fighting for us, pushing out the darkness. Enemies defeated in the name of Jesus. And He will shout it out. 🎼 in the dream. And that’s what woke me up with my heart racing. I immediately started praying. Then my King who makes my soul sing, whispered in love, there’s no fear in love. Love does scare me. A lot. I never done it right. 

I’ve never known real true love before Jesus. And before this ribcage was shown to me. In this three years, there were a lot of tears hiding my fears. I’ve learned so much about myself and him: supernaturally. I’m no longer ashamed of my thirst to go Higher with God. I’m no longer ashamed to speak about my radical LOVE or my radical faith in God. 

I was fighting my King, who makes my soul sing, since the moment He showed me, this ribcage that gets my ready ring: three years ago. I stopped fighting yesterday. At my new church in queens yesterday, my new pastor laid my life out. Prophesied exactly what I hid inside. And that’s when I was open to see, and be set free from the two posts I wrote yesterday. 

Only God can move in this delicate truth, that God has consistently been showing me, about this ribcage since I entered my old church three years ago. I thought leaving that church would stop the visions, revelations, and information on this ribcage. In a lot of ways, I’ve been just getting more information, about this same man like never before. 

So I choose to edit my credit to solely God, because I no longer want to press play, in the decay of my flesh god sabotage. None of this is a mirage, made up, or making me see “clearly I’m wrong,” as I was lead by false-prophets who choose to lose, as the walking dead. Even though I told this false-prophet about this ribcage that was shown to me, in January 2016. I was told to tell this same false-prophet in 2014, when I meet him, but I sat on this information for two years. When I told the false-prophet that he was shocked, then choked on his words and declared I’m wrong

God is stillness and repeats what’s important, me sitting on this for two years is stillness, am I really wrong if that’s the case? satan moves fast. satan is restless. satan is chaotic. satan is robotic. satan rushes. satan dilutes God’s wine to rewind time, as kool-aid. satan makes it cool to be a fool, walking in vomit of cheap lemonade, to buffet His Great Name. satan plays on logic and tangibility, and satan creates facades of flesh gods in night communities. If there’s no conviction in our hearts then we are walking all wrong. So only time will tell I’m wrong about this ribcage. I still say yes to my King above all else.

 I’m no longer sleepwalking. I’m choosing the pitfall of my free fall. I’m choosing to lose my patrol in control. I am choosing to give my all. I’m choosing to be the saint that God paints, His Way through my Obey into Today. I’m still breathing through His Gills. Walking on water like Peter. God loves you so much y’all. Be careful about spiritual leadership at church. Only God confirms not man, if God ain’t in it, don’t be with it. You’ll know when God is in it, as a saint, they’ll be growth and blessings, not stagnancy and struggle. Pay attention to the details saints, God is in the details. I love you world, because God taught me to. Love your sister Crysta. 

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Stigma

Dear Dad,

Today in church the revelation of not fighting your way, but my way to walk through all that’s not okay, hit me like a ton of bricks. My stigmas were still muted enigmas. It took me three years to see the power of my hidden paralyzing fears. 

I didn’t know I was supposed to press play, today no longer flowing in my go of yesterday. The flow of my mist of listed stigmas are no longer an enigma. Through my fall, I see the lame in my shame of not giving my all. 

My expectations created hesitations. In my crawl I kept my wall. I didn’t push, my flesh god cushion in my missed mark of dark. This ribcage stressor was always designed for my alignment. I’m a daughter of God, that’s full of assignments.

Three years of expectations, and my lark was silent in my violent bark. I’m unconditionally loved by God, flawed full of weeds that make me bleed. It’s okay for me to play my own decay of delay. It’s okay for me to replay my dismay of my newfound worth. I always didn’t know my hurt. I will always peel my feel, and see that I’m always going to need to be set free. 

My cries were dies in my lies, that were all inside. In my risen weed I internally bleed, and outwardly show the go of no need. But that’s not true, it’s still blue times too. I have pride that hides the lies inside. I struggle with hurts and battling believing my worth. 

My desire is always to be on fire for my King, who makes my soul sing. My ready ring, is full of stings. I don’t believe what I keep receiving because my faith, became the blame in my hesitate. And my faith has so much tests that disrupted my rests. 

My stressor is a survival on my terms, where there was no room to move with God. I couldn’t almost die again because of a man. I couldn’t relive battling anorexia again. I couldn’t have a nervous breakdown again. I just couldn’t be worldly worthless Crysta ever again. 

That’s why I said no, to what God showed. Everything on the surface triggered my hidden fears, in my analyzing paralyzing years. I wanted to be healed on my terms. Not God’s terms. The click in the puzzle to J to C was nothing but trouble according to me. 

I was too busy in my buzz, to create fuzz of flesh god facades. In my access I am a hot mess. My flesh god facade is a diss in my own torturing hiss. My rage is an escaping stage, where I aged, and feel like there was so much waged. But only God is my gauge. 

I realize my paralyze in all my lies. My confetti never replaced, the space of my empty. I’m missing the he to my Stir, which completes me as her. It’s my pastor to heal my created disaster. I grew slim and dim in my trim. 

I lost weight eating, eating became ate. To me it was too late. But there’s no desire without my growing fire of this he to my Stir. My limp in this wrestle, is my barren seed that God is removing, because I’m deciding to choose His voice as my ongoing choice.  I’m now aware of the need of my self care. 

My patrol in control is old and cold, and will never be the bold in forever, because only he + He + her is going to edify and magnify His Stir. My stigma is no longer an enigma. It’s still three strands land in His Kingdom Band. All parties still stay in this covenant dome, God will always call Home. 

But I feel lame in my newfound shame, of my expectations that caused all these hesitations. My mind can’t rewind time. I can’t take back all these setbacks. My attacks are Cadillacs of recurring themes of lean, mean and glean. 

It’s easy to blame the shame, on the finger that pulled the trigger. The trigger is bigger. Both the he and the her in this Stir, pulled the triggers. I pulled first. My vulnerability is so hard for me. It’s always been abused, where I was used, and fell back in my attack of nineteen. It’s a reel I still feel.

Anything wrong in my strong, was my throng to never ever be hypnotized by lies that I’ll always feel victimized by. Revelations show these hesitations, and penetrations. My fears I had in all these years. 

My fears keep being pulled out, despite my flesh god facade of all is well. There’s a swelling in this dwelling. There’s a birth in this hurt. There’s a revival in my survival. There’s an awakening in my remaking. I’ll always be God’s and I’ll always be the her in His Stir. 

So I accept my neglect to forgive and forget. I step aside to make room in the zoom, that only God can make come true. Because it’s still blue times two in this he + He + her. This is still the path to correct math, after all this time, nothing can undo this truth. I’m his and he’s mine. God is my Proof. Times three, it’s still me. His Stir will occur even after all that’s gone wrong. There’s no strong for me as her or him as he, we will still be set free. We are still meant to be. 

Only God can renew and revive, the stained pained we both choose to stay, in the remain of delay. It’s fearful lame. Only God can make this all shame have a gain. In my confess, I profess that I will always fight on Your Might, to be the see you are setting free God. I’m not alone. I’m not a drone. I cannot do this on my own. So I wait as you paint me from choke to evoke. 

Only you can make me be godly provoke, and complete this equation, without any hesitation. I choose to Be Still. I choose to edit my credit on You God. I choose to cling to my ring, that you choose to set free; and allow the follow in my bow. Thank you Dad. You make me glad. All is well within my soul. I will choose to trust in you. God, you will always be true.

The flow of my mist of listed stigmas are no longer an enigma. You solved my puzzle in my trouble. There’s no more bubble. Just love, from your beautiful Sacred Dove. Paint away, and I will no longer delay in my healing dismay. I no longer feel stronger, in believing the lie that makes me die in cries. Do your new work God. Make all things new for blue times two. For this pending love is true. 

Love your daughter, free falling boldly not coldly. 

Zero

she fought in all 

the might of this sight 

ending pending fall 

caught in the nights 

brought by her fights 

to stay in delay 

of her cheap lemonade 

to make today 

never forever 

in decay of yesterday 

this morning had warnings 

this morning her sight 

saw the light of God

this self made hiss 

is a looped diss 

the blinding isn’t hiding 

the lies that make her die

from the muting 

of her saluting 

this hurt has no worth 

the last two years 

is a play in delay

filled with hidden tears of pain 

feel like they have been in vain 

she found a way to numb 

the scums of crumbs 

that bleed the weeds 

in her veins

the aroma in this coma

came at the shame 

in a cost of lame

that makes her lost 

the lies that 

combat the hat 

die in cries

feed the seeds 

in these weeds 

that make her bleed 

in her loop of teenaged 

raged caged seventeen

she’s staged and aged

she’s older in her colder 

flesh god facades cost 

she feels far 

eating her scars 

lost without 

her intimacy in God 

she cannot conceal 

what God reveals 

she cannot undo 

God has been showing 

her growing true 

she doesn’t love him 

she doesn’t want him 

she doesn’t like that 

in this night they

will never have His Light

disobey is never okay

in this song of wrong 

there’s no strong for long

she doesn’t like him

she wants to slap him

she wants to punch him 

she wants to make him pay

in the reel to feel yesterday 

the pension in this tension 

is a bigger trigger 

than her apprehension 

to move forward 

where God is toward

there’s still an elephant 

in their bedroom 

all the overcompensation 

did nothing for this she

she’s still the wrong her

she’s still not the path 

in the Math of His Stir

there’s no three strand

in this isolated 

violated worldly land 

all this hurt 

has no worth 

she feels unclean 

she feels his mean 

they’re both lean 

they’re both glean 

from the choices 

to listen to multiple voices

this unity has no community 

she feels stings in her rings

he didn’t put her first 

he doesn’t see this she’s worth 

he doesn’t see this she’s hurt

this morning she saw warnings 

she doesn’t love him

she doesn’t want him

she slacking and lacking 

she muted her voice 

in this legal choice

to be the see 

in this flesh god facade 

she’s walking a reality

that feels like a poisonous galaxy 

she cries and dies

on the inside

because her lies hide

seven year age difference 

make the fear wage inference 

she misses the hisses 

of being single 

of seeing mingle 

she feels left out

she feels unseen 

she feels unclean

she is a hallow swallow 

of no tomorrow 

she hasn’t slowed down 

from all her touchdowns

she’s facing her fears 

designed in God’s showdown 

every knee still bows 

this self made kool-aid 

is Lois without her Lane

is a dark without her Clark

is a dent without her Kent

she has no confetti 

she’s just empty 

there’s no Gills 

in this cheap thrill

there’s no super hero 

in this missed marked zero 

to be set free

she needs to be still

lepidobotrys

wrong she sees

she doesn’t have the key 

she cannot validate 

this wrong family

a baby will never be

the key to wrong she safety 

he sees the Be 

in His Stir

he + He + her

that’s the path 

to godly math 

that’s His Craft 

after this storm

he will transform

he will no longer

reject day to play 

igniting the fighting 

in night stronger 

wrong she will flee

in this sobering ecstasy 

this cheap lemonade 

will never be 

the see of His Renegade 

wrong she sees

she doesn’t have the key 

she cannot validate 

this wrong family

a baby will never be

the key to wrong she safety 

the night community 

is now a tool

to be the fooler 

of wrong she fooled 

wrong she spadix spathe

calculating and manipulating 

the scales that 

combat prevailed scathe 

only God corrects 

the neglect of His Path

this son of His

sees the ease 

for what it is 

a fire red lead 

latina lepidobotrys

wrong she’s exotic 

is truly chaotic 

in forced routine 

everything is mean 

lean and glean

wrong she is 17

stuck in these loops

that gushed the rush 

of this pending end

wrong she plays 

and preys 

on flesh craves

wrong she muted 

what God saluted 

to reject this gateway 

in that fight 

God’s will is for he 

to be still in 

this lust filled tranquil

for this he to only see 

ashes to ashes 

and dust to dust

wrong she cultivated rust

wrong she is poisonous combust

wrong she fought 

wrong she’s now caught 

in flesh god facades

in this night community 

only, not boldly just coldly

he’s detached 

wrong she and he 

don’t match 

two strands

will never be

the see in His Math

wrong she strays 

wrong she preys 

wrong she stays 

clings to the stings in 

this wrong she ring 

is the clearing 

in God’s hearing 

God is declogging 

wrong she’s fogging

wrong she findeth

this he, not he 

findeth wrong she

he wants to flee

he will never be 

what she wants him to be

for two years

of playing the diss of God

in wrong she flesh god facade

played on this he’s fears

created the alienated

team vomitus gear

in this freshly hobbit 

only a fool 

plays cool 

in their  own vomit  

this he started 

to see this he’s tested veil 

prevail in April 

wrong she feeds 

the weeds of hateful

true love is above 

wrong she stilled gills

in fading suffocating thrills

God will always be

the King that sets 

the reject and the suggest 

of this deliberate let

being free so he 

can be the see 

in better together 

with His True Stir

he + He + her

wrong she sees

she doesn’t have the key 

she cannot validate 

this wrong family

a baby will never be

the key to wrong she safety

confetti will never replace

the space of empty 

snuffing out this truth 

is a deluded ruse

and a temporary aloof 

ignoring his call

doesn’t negate His Proof

because this mockery

is wrongs she’s toxicity 

wrong she is peeling 

from today to delay 

decaying in disobeying

 from His Healing 

pride hides the lies 

that feeds the need 

to press play in dismay

to press play in disobey 

to press play in not today 

to press play in the choke

that evokes the provoke 

of yesterday haze

pressing end

in this pretend

is God’s Gaze

wrong she sees

she doesn’t have the key 

she cannot validate 

this wrong family

a baby will never be

the key to wrong she safety

this baby is tied 

to the binds that hide 

inside of wrong she

who refuses to flee

who clings to the stings

of ignoring His Majesty

this fact is no longer 

the stronger act 

wrong she’s deliberate attacks 

are now God’s Patrol 

in wrong she’s control 

this baby will never be

what wrong she wills 

this baby is the birth 

of spiritual freedom

thy Kingdom come 

thy will be done

on earth as it is in Heaven

wrong she’s countdown 

is God’s showdown

through ignoring His Gills

this baby isn’t wrong she’s key 

this baby is His Be

to set wrong she free

rejecting the neglecting 

of His Protecting

will no longer

be wrong she’s stronger 

wrong she flesh god facades 

will never be bigger than God 

God allowed all 

especially this big fall

God allowed this show 

to continue to press play 

in this decay of go

so now wrong she knows

it’s time to bestow

and allow the bow  

God will always be 

the see in control

all patrols in flesh 

are specifically designed 

to walk us to 

His Aligned Assignments 

we are His Chosen

we are all broken tokens 

painting in the waiting

of walking in His Strokes 

the truth in this toxicity 

will be seen as a mockery 

only His Path

adds correct math 

he + He + her

edifies Kingdom Band

blue times two 

is he + He + her 

only God Stirs

in true love 

3 Strands Land

keep being Still he

soon you’ll be free 

Trust Me

Me is God 

that frees he

so see His Gills

Be Still 

aimez vos côtes bleu

Nonconformist 

Dad,

This is the hardest season you have my sister Jojo* and I walking through, to date. Thank God, we have each other walking through as sharpeners in the sadness of our madness. Thank God we can uplift each other through these very challenging, and unspeakable times. We’re mired in the peeling feeling of our wired pain, because the be to our see is a three year no gain. What we see as our bane in this long song is our transform from this worldly conform; by the renewal of our minds. Romans 12:2. Only you God are True.

You’re halting the self made faulting of our rewind in time. It’s not 2005, or 2015 so the reel and the peels of these scratching heels is truly the past, let it no longer last: the missed mark of dark is truly Your Spark. There’s no tranquility in the conformity of pale scales prevailing. They’re ailing the choice, to allow the follow in your dominant voice. The looping reels we peel to feel, are self made lemonade reacting to these ribcage stages, of suffocating wages. They’re caged too, and doesn’t change they are also true. Just like you God. So our flesh god facades are no longer stronger. They don’t work, because you are near and far. You are the Great I Am. And in your command we stand as your unified band, to edify this broken land. What Jojo and I push to neglect; you lovely correct with your graceful suggest, to show us the press flow in go of worldly reject. There’s no disconnect, despite our protest because only God confirms the affirm of His Return. 

Man cannot stand, that Jojo and I are a unified godly band, going on seven years in these hidden tears. In our fears, our sisterhood always seeks God in all facades he calls us, to spark in hidden darks as His Covered Marks. In our hiccups we make up, and remember that we are lenders and senders, in the mundane routine of everyday mean. We are saints on assignments, in this solitary confinement, in this fall, all truly need to see His Alignment to be set free. What’s done in the dark will always come to light. Press play in fight, and clinging to all His Singing Might. November 5th is the shift, in the flesh god facades, nightly unity rifts will never ever be of God. There’s only unity in the maturation, and penetration of His Humility. There’s no room for hesitation. Just dedication and the absurdity, of the nonconformist-lyrics of His Painted Gain, through our written poetic pain. Isaiah 66:9. Only you God are Above Time.

Every angle in this scorching fire, called this season both Jojo and I are walking overwhelms us. Like your saints in Daniel 3, we are not getting burned because you go before us. There is a peace we both feel, that surpasses all understanding. For your rod and thy staff comforts us. Psalm 23:4. My mom used to read the Bible to my brother and I, to get us to fall asleep, and she read Psalm 23 to us every night, from memory. Her mom: my late amazing grandmother, pushed her to memorize this scripture power, because she recited it to my mom and her sister growing up. As much as my mom irritates me, she’s a flawed woman of strong faith. Just like my grandmother was, just like my dad is. 

God has been walking me through breaking my habits of worldly perceptions on how I see flawed humans. My weeds make me bleed out, and shout in pouts of brokenness. It’s not healthy for anyone around me, and definitely not healthy for those that I go hard for and love. I’m so protective, and I so love hard. I’m all about God, sisterhood, brotherhood, my family and human unity. I’m just like my dad in the belief that God made us all the same. But the world chooses to press a play, which is really a decay and a delay, in the plane Jane lane of shame and lame. 

I’m tired of being obedient, and I’m tired of crying. The worlds confetti will never ever replace the space of our inner empty. Words always hide what’s inside, when we choose to let them be the see, or press play in refuse through fear to rise above in love. So we choke on the provoke of ruse. It’s unpopular to choose to lose the patrol in control. It’s unpopular to be appalled in the fake call, of the lying decor of dying. It’s popular to be mute and dilute the half way tribute, to give a suffocating hibernating salute to somewhat all. I decided enough is enough. But that’s a flesh god facade, that my King is making me walk out, in my stings and shout outs, because only God makes me sing. I avoid feeling and loving, because when I’m caught off guard, that drop of betrayal is so painful. Like what I felt before I left my old church too many times to count. And according to Crysta there’s no gain, in that recovery of deliberate pain. People suck and they’re fake, in the replay reel of break and take. But guess what? I’m a prison in this schism too. I’m not removed from the groove of being too cool, for the school of rejecting being a fool. I’m a people too. This truth is about me too. 

If I have my own fine tuning pruning process, then so does everyone else on this planet. I don’t get to decide how my lies die, and neither does anyone else. The truth that Jojo and I choose to to cling to every night, and day is our obey in Your Okay. Where you lead my sister and I, we keep saying yes. Where two or more are gathered, that’s where your presences dwells. Matthew 18:20. 

I had a dream the other night about my brother, a white man I never meet called my brothers name. And this white man went to a door he was looking at, when he called my brothers name. I immediately went to the door, and this white man whispered in my ear, “Slide over there three days ago,” at first I said that makes no sense, God moves forward not backwards, satan is the thief of time, and Jesus is our restorer. Then I thought about the Cross of Calvary. Jesus died and rose in three days. Jesus is the voice of hope, and the conquer of death. Then I woke up and the rising of Jesus, where all things are new, has just been very heavy on my heart the last few days. Today, God lead me to Matthew 20:18-19, which discusses Jesus’ resurrection. 

This is the blog post I had no desire to write. I’m tired of obeying God, and everything is getting harder in my life. I’m like flip this walk. Seriously. I wanted to walk away October 16th, then God made his son, my brother in Christ call me as he just read my life. I haven’t even told him that details of the two biggest mountains of my life: this ribcage stressor, and what my family is going through, but he knew all the details. This son of yours just straight prophesied over my life. I really appreciate this son of yours God, and his sensitivity to the Holy Spirit. This son of yours literally pops up, when I’m too through with this walk, like this morning as well. This obedient son of yours, once again text me a timely message, right after my dad blew my mind, with what he said about the human body. Like I SEE you God. You’re making your presence very strong, and very clear in my presence and in my space. 

Regardless of how too through Jojo and I are, of this insane assignment at this specific school, you keep telling us to hold on. And to hang in there and we are both like no, defiance has a facade of flesh god alliances. So let’s jump on that bandwagon too. But that’s just not our truth, neither of us were created to hibernate in the separation of you God. You keep us from drinking the kool-aid, You keep pushing us to reject the dead in dread of that poisonous lead. Instead, we keep pressing play in obey, because You Say eject the decay in delay. We both allow the bow to the truth of Your Proof: every knee shall bow. Psalm 22:27. 

Wisdom will always be better than the withering of popularity. Popularity isn’t bigger than Purpose. Our neglect will always be a redirect by God, because God allows all, to cause us to fall, so that we can give our all. Death of flesh is far better to celebrate than the beginning of newfound life. Ecclesiastes 7:1. Anyone can do well when we are up, what happens whenever we are down and out!? Do we all go to God then!? Everyday is the risk of not falling in the trap, to be zapped in decay of yesterday. Salvation is a one time gift, however surrender is a daily revival. There’s deliverance in the hinderance called our surrender. So don’t choke on the easy yolk, allow the fearful evoke and provoke to be your see so that you can be set free, finally. Take His Hand. 

Dad this is so hard, I deeply dislike a huge chunk of this insane season. Jojo just wants total out. I’m desperate to cling to the hope of this hopelessness, and it’s getting harder. The lies are getting louder, and my cries feel like closed walls in this pitfall. The flames just look so hot, but you protect me so don’t stop. Keep protecting Jojo, too. I keep saying yes, despite my desire to fallback in attacks, and say yes to the road that has nothing to do to my call. I will confine and discern what you keep showing me, so that I can continue to be your lighter and your fighter. I know Jojo will fight to keep choosing you too, despite her desires. You are Higher. Isaiah 55:8 so don’t hesitate to keep showing both of us it will never be too late. I love you because you’re truth God. There’s no fear here, not anymore. You keep showing me that I fully say go, in this free fall of giving my all. 

Love your daughter.

*names changed for privacy purposes. #TeamProPrivacy 

Silence 

Silence is an alliance in 

defiance to the world

coldly muting boldly 

saluting as a scaled troop 

prevailing the lies of 

ailing ties to diluted loops 

pressing play in delay

forgoing today to 

be the dead lead 

seeing only yesterday 

words of affirmation 

is 

mans confirmation 

to be a ruse in

the refuse to obey 

rejecting the confess 

to the yes of today 

mans confirmation 

is flesh god penetration 

to feed the bleed 

of fables and labels 

titles are provocative tales

designed to make us 

combust to prevail in fail 

and delay

to say okay by

His Obey 

so the cries in dies

become louder and louder 

and dead in dread 

pressing play to 

the caressing stressing 

in yesterday 

peeling away the feeling 

from the healing to the

purpose of His Focus

but

popularity is the worldly reality 

it’s toxicity in the mockery 

of bereaved repercussions 

to missed mark of dark 

silent no spark discussions 

the fight by no light 

is a scaled galaxy 

from His Reality

faded lay in lust

rusting decay of His Delay

is truly a denial 

in these dark files

designed by His Trials

to show the true go of

no accountability attributes 

to dilute from maturity 

so press play 

to the faze with 

blind kool-aid isolation 

is a daze of hesitation 

flesh god facades 

are never going to be of God

instead it’s dead lead to gaze 

in worldly night community

rejecting His Unity

through pruning 

fine tuning humility 

so press play in

muting the penetration 

of God 

however 

silence is also guidance 

it’s His Grace

in our race 

words can be a disguise 

to hide the lies inside 

the prevention of His Intervention

to the hearing in the clearing 

God is a God of

prosperity in alignment of truth

not 

solitary in confinement of aloof

God is a God of 

Glory to glory 

not

the incorrect math 

of our flesh god path

only He writes

the light of Our Story

let Him take us 

from ashes to ashes

and dust to dust 

from aloof to 

His Proof

from cheap lemonade to 

His Renegade 

unsatisfactory silent extortion of lust

is the violent abortion of unjust 

radiated dedicated rust 

will never be the see 

in

ashes to ashes 

and dust to dust 

Only God is our Be

and will always set us free 

so decide to deny

the neglect to His Reject

and see the worldly rust 

once and for all 

press play to His Call

yet 

the fears in the tears 

of hidden years 

is the rage in the caged 

gauge of alienation

because 

the choice is still 

the suffocation of no Gills

lead to His Still

the choice is not His Voice 

the pause in His Cause 

plays the delays

madly in sadly 

Silence is an alliance 

in 

defiance to the world

coldly muting boldly 

saluting as a scaled troop 

prevailing the lies of 

ailing diluted loops 

pressing play in delay

forgoing today to 

be the dead lead 

see in yesterday 

Be Still choose

lose in free fall

by giving Him Your All

press play in the Obey 

of His Call

aimez vos côtes bleu

Poets Note: I was lead to this song by this artist. I never heard of him, before I landed on Sho Baraka. I’ve been replaying Words, 2006. I’ve discovered this artist in an unconventional way. I’ve also been avoiding writing a specific post, that will just wreck me; and it’s not poetry like this. I love writing poetry now, because I’ve allowed God through my submission, His complete access to my gift of words. This blog and how it’s ran, is all His doing. I fought God on this website too, before it finally went up almost three years ago. I put this blog up, when I finally mustered up the courage to leave my toxic relationship with my ex boyfriend. And four months later, I left the world completely behind 4.4.14, by surrendering my life to God. I never looked back since that day. 

There was no backsliding of buffeting this walk for me, because I came out the womb with full knowledge of this walk. God has been speaking to me the same way all of my life. I’m just now bold enough to no longer walk as the worlds cold conceptualize lie. If that makes me an outlaw for God? Then I say let’s go, my sword isn’t going anywhere. Not anymore. Speaking for the longest was so hard for me. Words paralyzed me, in a lot of ways, speaking now is still hard. I learned I had the gift to write through my hidden fears. It was the greatest hidden blessing to date. 

I realized I was being set up, for these moments I walk now. I fell in love with writing at the age of 12/13. That era for me was 1996. Originally I calculated being 12/13 for the year 2006. It’s interesting I made the connection my math was looped. This timeframe for me in real life stayed the same for 10 years. In 2006 I was 22/23. My twenties were very hard to walk through. Very hard, so it doesn’t surprise me that I reverted back to times of when I was 12/13. Speaking felt impossible for me in my early 20s. I always got so much anxiety. That is not a coincidence. 

I was always discouraged with my writing growing up, with those outside of my bloodlines. I had this theory, that family had to okay and support you, because genetic connections are similar. I realize being lead to this lyrical writer was bigger than me, and my suspicions of what the leading really means, is also bigger than me. I need healing, and releasing still. Writing will always be healing for me, as well as being a tool for God’s chosen.  

God you win. I say yes, and I’ll write the other piece too, because this piece called silence is bigger than me. This note is proof of that. Especially showing me no hint this was coming, which you don’t have to do God. But sometimes you do warn me about poetry pieces, and I got spoiled by that. You keep showing out God, go on and show out. Go on and keep blowing my mind, like you are at work and what’s coming on Monday, 10/31. I see you God. I just say yes to all these circumstances, that are truly bigger than me.

I’m tough but I’m not tougher than God. The last three months of this insanity called my life, drew me to an even higher intimacy with God. Reflecting back now!? I wouldn’t change anything. I would do the last three years all over again, if it meant I am in this space with God. And these glimmers of blueprints you keep showing me?! I’m with you God all the way, because I choose to obey. I say okay everyday and reject the neglect of yesterday, to push the discomfort of evolving in the solving of Your Today, by my Obey in you God. I’ll keep pushing through and choosing to fight for truth. I will always choose you God, no matter what the world tells me or throws at me. 

I rise higher and stronger because of you God. Keep sharpening my speed in worldly bleeding, because it’s truly healing and freeing. I love you forever my King. God loves you world, and so do I, because he teaches me to be a reach His way not mine. My unforgiving rewind is a bind that will never tie his correct math nor walk me to his path. So I reject the lending of pain to see Your Gain and allow all to fall in my hallow swallow. So trust your process, saints regardless of the setbacks; they will always lead to set ups. I pray for higher alignment for all beautiful souls on this planet God, especially those stuck in a reel of looped solitary confinement. In Jesus name I pray, amen. Love your sister Crysta.

Confetti

times up, there’s no luck

the time in rewind 

no longer binds

wrong she is stuck

pressing play in yesterday 

no longer feeds 

the seeds in dismay

the cling to decay

no longer appeals 

the feel to disobey 

respect the reject 

for stressing in caressing 

this wrong she’s confessing 

it is solitary confinement

& will never be His Alignment 

kool-aid is not wine

the lick in this pick

is an isolated stick

the lie in die 

can no longer 

press play in stronger

he’s true, it’s not wrong she

wrong she presses play 

in the decay of confetti

confetti cannot replace

the space of empty 

the community knew 

this night unity 

will never be true 

blue times two 

is the path 

to correct math

wrong she will flee

in this spadix spathe 

putting the end 

in this pretend 

wrong she pauses 

the causes of this pending be

God will always see His Stir

he + He + her

the fooler 

is being fooled

the plotted accusal way

is wrong she bamboozled decay

now there’s stings   

to this fire red lead ring

the dismiss is

a deliberate diss

flesh god facades 

will never be bigger 

than the triggers of God

wrong she’s ways 

are the loops 

in this two point missed hoop

of yesterday’s marks 

in the reel of peeling dark

will never be His Spark

two strands in this land

wasn’t His Stand

only Three Strands

makes His Kingdom Band

wrong she presses play 

in the decay of confetti

confetti cannot replace

the space of empty 

the community knew 

this night unity 

will never be true 

silence is oppression

in this themed no confessions

it’s mean, lean and glean

it’s feeding the weeds of ms. 17

also known as wrong she

now His son sees  

so many lessons

learned and earned 

blue times two 

is the path 

to correct math

wrong she will flee

in this spadix spathe 

pale scales eventually fail

reject the prospect of prevail

time to say 

the delay in this haze 

is a cheap lemonade daze

press stop in this clock

of mazed muted salute

this screeching squawk

is a horned hawk

see His Thorn

press play in His Reborn

today press reject

in His ongoing Protect 

press play in today

of His Hidden Details

rejecting the delay

from tightly in nightly 

selecting His Obey

wrong she cries are all lies 

& will always result 

in the cult of demise

singing now stings

Be Still from this tranquil

God will be 

the See in His Testify 

God objects 

time to protect 

His sons intellect

to press play 

in today Fly 

not yesterday’s die

the lens of pretend 

is now a full 

pull of the end 

this cancerous show 

is no longer flowing in go

confetti will never move 

the groove of empty 

only God will

press play on His Gill

Be Still

aimez vos côtes bleu