Sin

her eyes silently cry 

her lips kiss the hiss of curses

being angry doesn’t help

the he God says is for me

me is the her

in God’s Stir

he + He + her

ran to the band

in the land of quicksand 

apart of the ugly heart 

known as the night 

no unity community 

running doesn’t help 

there’s a sensitivity

and a humility 

to fight for the light

in what’s right

and the courage 

to lose the ruse

to refuse the fuse 

of the coldly not boldly world

her crying is in vain

her lungs are crushed with shame

to be attached to this ugly match

Isaiah sixty-six points to fix

her position in her condition 

that believes and receives 

her pain has no gain

everyday is a decay

of a star so far

that points in

a hurt with no worth 

in a day called yesterday,

which is a switch 

that satan will always permit

the delay 

in pressing play

of disobey in conforming 

to lose the ruse

to refuse the fuse 

of the coldly not boldly world

this painful truth 

sucks the life out of youth

in the ministries of worldly histories 

like that no unity 

night community 

in that building 

that has no godly wings

being replayed in dismay 

disobey 

decay

and delay 

to never connect 

the gift in the switch 

in our present known as today 

the book of revelations 

is prophetic declarations 

to anchor His Chosen 

to not feed the weed 

of lying needs in broken 

this he that God says is for me

is in a decay of yesterday 

legally stocked as the stuffed 

robotic, chaotic, and toxic 

weak not meek jock

who can legalize lies

but made a switch 

in the fiscal pitch 

running deeper &

weaker in the worldly abyss

the same lies that man 

stands in quicksand 

is where this he 

who God says is for me

chooses to lose

in the refuse 

to end this ruse 

of pretend with a she

that will never ever be me 

no amount of drunkenness

can change the truth

there’s no God 

in this facade

no amount of drunkenness 

can replace the space 

of empty in this best 

last first bite 

scheming & stifling

defiling lying life 

with this ‘man created’ wife

the hit it and quit it misfit

did not change His Truth

the hit it and quit it misfit 

does not change His Proof

the hit it and quit it misfit

with the gestures of pressures

that arranged this deranged 

mr. & mrs. misconception

in this no holy matrimonial deception

this he’s verbal tactics are systematic

this she who’s not me is drunk on money

not funny, because this she sees 

this he’s never going 

to bring the money honey

this she just eats 

this he’s bird regurgitated 

crumped meat given

because this she’s cow was free

so this he, can softly & schematic 

subtract romance with an act

she swallows in a glutton hallow

this she who’s not me 

is radioactive from the damage

of being a savage 

with she who findeth not he

when as a woman

there’s a committee that knows 

how to go and grow in stillness 

to choose to lose the world and wait

because God is the only man 

that can truly teach and reach 

his daughters hands to 

never be stronger 

any longer in the quicksand of man

Jesus is the first bridegroom 

as a daughter that will never lose to

this he decays in this messy disobey

money isn’t better honey

lonely has no price tag 

pain can’t be jet lagged 

no amount of horses 

can change the courses 

of the suffocating sin

in that secretive saddlebag

drinking doesn’t take

away the decay of thinking 

drinking doesn’t make 

the sway stop 

from wicked winking

sinking in the legs of another 

the legs of another 

isn’t enough either brother

because the cause of 

depression is suppression 

of the hinderance

in the deliverance 

known as surrender 

cheating isn’t leaving 

leaving isn’t cheating 

lying still creates 

dying permeated kinks 

of drenched sin 

no one wins 

this he cries on the inside

this he flees from godly as

mr. & mrs. misconception

in this no holy matrimonial deception

this he’s verbal tactics are systematic

this she who’s not me is drunk on money

in the facade of rings

this she laughs at days that sting 

not days to come

because this she is numb 

not funny, because this she 

is not this he’s honey, 

even after the title upgrade

this she just eats 

this he’s crump’s meat  

because this she’s cow was free

far before this no holy matrimony 

so this he, can softly & schematic 

subtract romance with 

a rift rotational act

this he has a plethora 

of euphoria empty whack lies

this she sees as fine wine 

cognoscenti in month twenty

the hype died instantly

this she tried rejuvenating

a popularity that is only for this he  

still, this she rides a wave

in a cave as cheap thrills

the mrs. title 

changed nothing on the inside 

this she’s stone heart

is running after this he 

in name, lame, and shame only

this she is rich in the stench of lonely

this she who’s not me 

is radioactive 

from the laundry list of damage

in being a lifetime 

drug infested alcoholic savage 

with she who findeth not he marriage

two broken souls 

like this he and this she

who will never be seen

as three strands or His Stir

they will always be 

two strand quicksand 

they will always 

be cold

never bold

always old

because sin will never win

only God can heal

by accepting what cannot be concealed 

by walking in that talking of godly reveal

he + He + her

will always be God’s Stir 

so surrender 

let go to grow 

and cancel this ungodly show

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Community

None of this is fair.

You is the he God says is for me.

It’s not fair you decided that lies were better. 

It’s not fair you decided that lust was better.

It’s not fair that your choice 

from the world of man’s voice 

was the place that left 

you now feeling suffocated and isolated.

There’s no unity 

in that building you call a community.

This community is the scrutiny 

you choose to lose yourself.

The ruse that man stand, 

in that worldly land

was the path 

to your current matrimonial math.

You picked the easy task to never ask.

You picked security.

You thought that’s the look of purity.

It’s lazy because you’re not challenged.

It’s lacking the accountability 

that leads to maturity. 

It’s a cop out to op out of speaking.

All your inner turmoil comes out leaking.

Nobody sees your need.

You are mute in a silent salute.

You pay tribute to the decay of yesterday. 

In that building:

Nobody has you back.

Nobody cares about:

the silent,

violent,

militant,

and post-traumatic attacks.

There’s no unity 

in that building you call a community.

This community is the scrutiny 

you choose to lose yourself.

The ruse that man stand, 

in that worldly land

was the path 

to your current matrimonial math.

Humans in that building smile in your face 

and laugh behind your back 

as if you’re a disgrace.

That building is old, cold, and bold 

in the distress of public statistical flesh.

You have money,

so that makes you 

amazing dollar signs honey.

That building was more important 

than fighting for His Light & His Kingdom.

That building is full of dead lead

battling flawed sinners 

who positioned your condition to be a winner.

You put that building on a pedestal 

that everyone sees you did 

and uses this truth for kool-aid proof.

When man goes Above God then man

writes your life 

with a hand picked ‘wife’

that’s really lies and strife.

Hook, line, and sinker 

you became a lame, shamed-filled drinker.

Drunkenness clouds clarity, and stillness.

Easy manipulation, is man’s dedication. 

There’s no unity 

in that building you call a community.

This community is the scrutiny 

you choose to lose yourself.

The ruse that man stand, 

in that worldly land

was the path 

to your current matrimonial math.

It’s not fair 

that the ugly backwards hat

was more important 

to feed the weed of man

to suffocate silently 

in your two strand quicksand.

It’s not fair that you decided

to hide the lies inside

when all you feel is the reel of die.

God never sent the woman 

you don’t love from Above. 

God never said go in that current show.

Your fear to be alone 

is the reality you walk now 

feeling like a peeling done drone.

Wearing wrong wedding rings 

will always sting.

It takes more than two believers to marry.

It takes more than loving God to be godly. 

It takes absurd faith like Abraham

who trusted God Above all the backlash.

It takes absurd faith like Noah 

who build the vision he was shown 

after all his backlash. 

Only God got Noah 

through his drunkenness,

and he still obeyed 

in his self-torturous decay. 

It takes absurd faith like Saul 

who became Apostle Paul,

to take a leap and 

no longer be stronger 

in unworthy or cheap.

The leap of faith Paul took 

is how he wrote the New Testament. 

If God can make him new 

why can’t he do that for you too? 

If God can have a plan for 

Jacob being tricked by his father-in-law

where Jacob married Leah, a woman he didn’t love. 

And had to work for Rachel, whom he did truly love: the mother of his sons he found precious: Joseph and Benjamin. 

Then why can’t you trust 

God has a plan for you too?

Man will always have a plan

especially if they clearly see your prosperity.

Everyone will want a piece of the prize,

so they feed false prophecy and lies,

through your insecurities 

blocking His Security.

None of this is fair.

You is the he God says is for me.

It’s not fair you decided that lies were better. 

It’s not fair you decided that lust was better.

It’s not fair that your choice 

from the world of man’s voice 

was the place that left 

you now feeling disgrace.

What is fair is God has the final say.

So your current decay 

will continue to have delays.

Pay close attention to the intentions 

of your “godly” she:

plotter or pure

liar or honest

lead by death in flesh 

or lead by life of The Holy Spirit

she who findeth you

or you who findeth she

trusts choices of man 

or trusts the voice of God

self-seeking or sacrificial

entitled to take or loves to give

looks to you to give or 

looks to give and build you

rushes everything or practices stillness?

That building is not a place of worship.

That building is a place 

to play god in flesh facades. 

That building is like the pharaoh of exodus 

that oppressed God’s people. 

That building has many stone hearts.

Only God can turn a heart to flesh.

Let Go(d) to know and grow.

You is the he God says is for me.  

x-ray 

you’re and you is wrong she

the two of you will not last 

you are now entering his past

the two of you were never true

this he is blue times two

not with you

you are the key

that shows this he

being with you

creates the space of feeling the blues

as the wrong she and wrong hue 

legal wedding rings 

never removed this he’s stings

you are the key

to show this he’s

see of: slim, grim, trim, and dim 

in this isolated land

of you two as wrong hues quicksand 

there’s no Holy in your matrimony 

you and this he are not three

you showed this he 

you are the black tar

that brings hisses & disses

with your poisonous kisses 

and will never be the path

to correct math or

to this he’s godly destiny 

he loves her and always will

you are the wrong she 

that became a legal cheap thrill

you are the reason

God gave this he Gills 

in this painful drowning season

you were the key to see

this he needs to be set free

you were made 

legal cheap lemonade 

you are faded lust 

walking in a talking 

worldly matrimonial rust 

your actions are not satisfactions

your presence is an x-ray decay 

your current title 

is an odored pretentious sundial 

this he sees as a vile, hostile

and a waste in taste 

of this delay, disobey, and dismayed 

matrimonial no holy 

costly ceremonial aisle 

only God can make man 

stand in a land of three strands 

ashes to ashes 

dust to dust 

lust even legalized 

is rust that God 

will never canonized 

worldly lust will always combust 

even if the titles reach 

mr. & mrs., will still be a leach 

even if false prophets preach 

God will always have the final say

even after a worldly matrimonial disobey

you’re and you is wrong she

the two of you will not last 

you are now entering his past

the two of you were never true

this he is blue times two

not with you

you are the key

that shows this he

being with you

creates the space of feeling the blues

you jump from man to man

you’re an x-ray poisoner 

you’re a voyager snake 

that men before this he

saw you were a great stake 

of a cost that was not 

worth the hurt or loss 

you’re a pain with no gain

you’re a loaded crane 

deadly and weigh in vain

your two thousand fifteen zap

was this he’s drowning trap

with drunkenness wine

causing this he to rewind time

in a decay of yesterday 

where you as wrong she 

positioned your condition 

from temporary to no holy matrimony 

your two thousand fifteen x-ray key

was hard for this he to see

you always needed to flee

the sixth month on the twenty-third day

was the entry to this he’s decay

starring you as mrs. wrong she 

to worldly victory

that ugly backwards hat:

began a stand in quicksand 

began a delay in a toxic, chaotic, robotic decay

began a walk to talk of replaying yesterday 

God sent this he life lines 

this he was distracted 

by your decaying x-ray signs

exotic scales made this he fail

flat on this he’s face

choosing you is a lose & disgrace 

the wrong way will never be okay

just pale, blind, and rewinded in time

of the twenty fifteen hype reenacted 

in this he’s mind 

you’re and you is wrong she

the two of you will not last 

you are now entering his past

the two of you were never true

this he is blue times two

not with you

you are the key

that shows this he

being with you

creates the space of feeling the blues

your eyes were the sage wage

drunken mesmerize to gauge 

how to put this he in that

ugly backwards caged hat [permanately] 

hook, line, and sinker

this he became an entrapped drinker 

this he became an isolated over-thinker 

this he became your wicked winker

because your leverage 

was the drunkenness beverage 

that fed this he’s pride 

that fed this he’s lies 

that fed what this he hides well inside 

you are the wrong she that thought

your wicked ways, and decays 

will never be caught 

you feed the wrong seeds

that grew as weeds 

this he bleeds to no longer 

be stronger in flesh god facade

you are the key 

that sets this he free 

from the decay, 

disobey, 

and dismay  

of x-ray sexology 

this he barked at the help

you marked at this he’s 

vulnerability to isolate 

this he’s accountability 

to be the maggot of stagnant 

to play-up the shake-up 

of being toxicity in lying hypocrisy 

in this he’s stark whelp

you’re and you is wrong she

the two of you will not last 

you are now entering his past

the two of you were never true

this he is blue times two

not with you

you are the key

that shows this he

being with you

creates the space of feeling the blues

this he needs to be security 

this he needs to protect his purity 

this he needs to feel safe

all you are is strife 

not this he’s wife 

instead you’re the lead

that fed dead as

best last first bite 

you’re the x-ray decay 

that disobeys and rewinds time

during this he’s poor distorted waif 

in this he’s delicate mind

by using and abusing wine 

you’re the decay of yesterday

you’re the sorrow of no tomorrow 

you’re the woman that allowed

the wrong bow and enforced 

the course of hallow swallows

the cow was free 

he still sees you’re cheap

those legal rings will always represent stings 

not a faithful leap

you’re mrs. creep 

you’re two strands 

will always be 

this he’s quicksand 

you’re the cage 

that waged this he’s rage 

you’re the wrong she

God sees as a serpent lure

to be cured godly & orderly

from this he’s wilderness 

where you are this he’s hinderance 

from this he’s deliverance 

called surrender 

you’re the reel

that positioned the condition 

of self-cultivated certain but temporary 

will always be secondary to God 

your false place in this he’s space

was your gauge to prophase 

as the wrong she cloned drone 

you as this he’s confetti 

is not replacing the space

of this he’s empty 

the path to correct math 

will always be he + He + her

that’s godly destiny not temporary 

that’s godly legendary 

to edifying His matrimonial ministry 

marriage is His ministry of three strands

marriage is His Kingdom Band

God will always be strand three 

he + He + her 

will always be His Stir 

you’re just the wrong she

of this month twenty ruse

this he will choose to lose

the fuse of your refuse 

you pause His cause

you’re worldly coldly 

you’re the wrong choice 

that blocked His voice

in that ugly backwards hat

this he will see and be set free

finally, and steady 

when this he’s ready 

to let go and grow 

from sexology to His Destiny

131

Dearest Dad,

I feel so on edge. I constantly create a space where there’s a place I’ll land to stand and jump off a ledge, because my pledge to me is I’ll be set free. But I also feel this absurd centered peace, that biblically surpasses all understanding; so my landing on an edge is disregarded by the bombarding of how much you love me God. Your love is my Sacred Dove and always flying from Above. I choose to lose the ruse of refuse in the world of coldly flesh mutes confesses. I’m in a space where I’ve surrendered my disgrace from my past, because in my mind I played rewind for the vain of no gain to always be my pain. 

All I did was grow my hurts with no worth. My pain will always have a gain in my hinderance by Your Deliverance called surrender. There’s only eight days left of the year 2016. So much has happened, and so many changes created arranges that offended my defend in the foolishness of you God. I was so hurt that I tried through my lies to hide all that’s inside. 

“he has to face the choices he’s made without Me.”

Okay, that’s probably about the he you keep saying is for me when there’s a battle that makes me feel so rattled to accept what I sometimes try to reject and neglect. 131 is a coded eroded beginning of that ugly backwards hat, in the drunkenness spat for the wrong hues of two to be undone; to never to be the see of His Truth. God you say that the blatant disobeys, and decays will no longer be stronger in yesterday. The gift that causes us to pause, and lift in your truth because you are Proof; makes our pride die so we can rise to stop the clock of flocked pressing play in hide. To say goodbye to all lies that we as humans bury inside. We say goodbye to what we know because it’s time to go and grow. 

131 is a coded eroded hit it and quit it misfit that became that no holy matrimonial phony two strands quicksand best last first bite hype. God you’re not a God of hype. You’re a God of love, order, stillness, and peace. The greatest truth you’re Proof represents is the Cross of Calvary. You loved this broken world so much God, and all the whack sinful humans walking on this pit stop called earth, [myself included] that you sacrificed your only begotten son so that we may all live. 

Your word says that love covers a multitude of sins. 1 Peter 4:8

Your word says hatred stirs up strife, But love covers and overwhelms all transgressions [forgiving and overlooking another’s faults.] Proverbs 10:12.

Your word says she who believed and confidently trusted that there would be a fulfillment of the things that were spoken to her. Luke 1:45.

The Cross of Calvary carried Jesus to death, where he took the place of all of us. Then three days later he rose again, and conquered the very thing the enemy paralyzed us flawed humans to believe we’ll never be set free from: death. As saints on assignments we are set free to see, and believe to receive what God wants us to achieve. 

For the longest God I clung to your word, and actively chose to live by your biblical truth. I actively chose to rise above in love. But 131 is a coded eroded beginning of that ugly backwards hat, in the drunkenness spat for the wrong hues of two to be undone; to never to be the see of His Truth. Even after the coded eroded 131, I fought to choose to lose the ruse of refuse. Even after the departure of where I said yes to you on the greatest day of my life 404. I fought to not feed the bleed of my wrong seed weeds with my internal life. But then the strife I walked through at work, was a hurt I was convinced had no worth. So the string broke, and all the stings I’ve ever felt made me want to melt. It’s all too much and I don’t believe I can handle all of this anymore. According to you God that’s not true. But all that occurred so far, was evoked chokes that made me feel so provoked. 

Triggers that were bigger than me, made me want to flee. I was no longer blind, but now I see. God wanted me to be free, but I didn’t want to be. I felt like there were welts of being a recurring punching bag for the last time. Love felt so abused by everyone around me that fought to press play in the decay of ruse and refuse. Rising above and choosing love feels like personal vandalism now. Rising above and choosing love feels like I’m 19 all over again, and my life is about to forever change, (which it did) from a fated night that makes me sometimes want to take a heaven bound flight.

How I feel is a reel that doesn’t work for you God. My pumped up chest can no longer be in distress, because you love me so much God to express what I fight to confess. God you’re determined to make me see, I’m set free and I choose to believe. It’s interesting that you’ve been on a mission to speak to me through my kiddos. They are the greatest part of my agonizing life. I love my students so much. They’re beautiful babies full of potential, and all I want to do is shield them from this broken horrible world. This decaying planet is full of disobeying flesh led maggots I call pale scaled adult humans. Adult humans are jaded and want you God to be faded.

So what’s up with you speaking to me through my babies about this “#bae2017” my kiddos named, and are convinced is coming soon. I’m like so indifferent about adult human love, that I no longer believe it’s for me. At least that is one of my greatest wrestles with you God. At first you only had two of my kiddos talking about this supposed guy coming. Now you’re really trying to show off God by making a huge chunk of my kiddos tell me about this “#bae2017” that’s supposedly coming. Well then do you God and just show off. Clearly you’re grown God and will do as you deemed fit. 

What really blew my mind was them seeing what I want: to be alone with cats, and an apartment. I no longer believe adult humans respect true love, or understand this is only found from Above. The hiss and diss of drunkenness sin is found in worldly bounds like the coded eroded 131. I didn’t tell anyone that I want cats and an apartment. I want to be left alone. I ignored Jojo* seeing this, because she’s my best friend; but my kiddos seeing that? I can’t ignore this anymore. My babies aren’t my friends so I’d never tell them that. That’s what convinced me God, that you surrounded me with mini prophets. You’re such a show off God. Such a show off. 

“The end is near. The end is here.”

The end of what? Earth? Finally. Humans are ungrateful [myself included.] humans want to be bold in the coldness of drunkenness, and the half way decay of pressing play in yesterday. Humans are in a ruse to fuse the refuse to patrol a control that should only be of God; not the flesh of allured no cure confess facade. Supernatural is so weird, and the foolishness of God is hard to stand strong in alone. However, I can’t go back to who I used to be. 

Your Presence is heaven to me. I’m set free because I finally see you’re all I need God. So why show me this he you keep claiming is for me, especially when he actively made a choice that silenced your voice God? July 4th was my mental switch to finally get the message: the world is more important to this he I believe you should stop saying is for me. But you want me to still believe God, when I’m like this has to be some sick twisted facade. But then Jojo sharpened me and reminded me, that you’re not a God that operates like that. She also said I need to surrender my expectations of this he you keep claiming is for me despite what is seen. 

“It’s true, you’re blue times two the true hue. you will see. he will be set free.” 

According to me, he’s privacy and lies and hides the swelling wells dwelling inside. But God the swelling wells dwelling inside need to die. They’re all drunken snapshots of confetti in fail pale scaled attempts to replace the space of this he’s empty. 131 is a coded eroded disobey of yesterday to never press end in pretend. The decay of delay is this isolated stranded sand of this wrong hue of two, no holy matrimony quicksand. mrs. off the stage, also known as wrong she, fed the violent and silent waged-caged rage of this broken he. You God keep saying is for me when all I want to do is choose to flee. 131 is a coded eroded time that shows this wrong she as a rewind in this he’s mind. Loops will always be troops that feed the wrong seed weed delusion conclusions. 

I’m in this space you want to replace with love, well God I think I’m tired of rising above in love with adult humans. The message has been received from this he you so call say is for me, and Jojo, honestly every adult human. So all I can do is channel my love where it’s appreciated, and not taken advantage of: love is from Above so I choose to focus on the youth because I’m honestly too through. The greatest part of my life in this current strife, makes me drift to switch to focus on a made up happiness like yummy strudels. I’m also always lingering to draw doodles. Some of the ways I get through the day. 

My main focus is your beautiful youth. I don’t know what to do, or how to move about where I stand with adult humans. So I decide to surrender all my hurts even the ones that have no worth, according to me. In my plight I fight to no longer be stronger in a solo limited might. You’re better than me God so as scary as it is to let go of my “I’m shielded” against adult humans, I say yes to you God. I have no clue what you’re about to do, or even how you’re even about to move in Jojo and I with our sisterhood that’s strong because of you only. But I trust and believe in you, because you will always be my anchor in truth God. I love you so much Dad. 

P.S. I see that the coded eroded 131 is 1 + 3 + 1 is five. And I immediately drift to Renegade’s blog, in Harlem at the corner of 112, and that building Jojo and I saw across the street from Columbia. Is all of this another Hidden Detail Dad?

“It is.” 

Okay, all I can do is wait and be still like I’ve been doing. Thanks for being consistent Dad. Thanks for knowing me so well, and far better than I will ever know myself. Thanks for showing me what love really is. Thanks for setting the bar so high. Just thank you God. 

Love your daughter. 

*names changed for privacy purposes. #TeamProPrivacy 

Sex

as a woman 

there’s a level of respect 

that hiccups make us forget 

that pressure through worldly gestures 

we neglect and reject 

to create a hurt 

with no worth prospect 

we feed wrong seeds 

known as weeds 

that make us bleed with need

to pick up a pace 

not made for His Race 

we feed a fake

that makes us break

to teach us to take 

in pain with no gain

which is really all in vain

as a woman 

there’s a level of respect 

that hiccups make us forget 

that pressure through worldly gestures 

we neglect and reject 

to create a hurt 

with no worth prospect 

why would a man

stand to buy a cow

when as a woman 

we make the wrong bow 

and allow a man to land

disrespectfully in a space 

where we are now disgraced

and that empty can never be replaced

why would a man 

buy the cow 

when the milk was free

the cookies were given 

so swiftly and the man

takes a stand to drift quickly 

as a woman when we see

what’s not meant to be

after the cookies were free

we pick up the wrong pace 

to cover our hurt from no worth

artistic in an unrealistic  

make-up filled pretty face

there’s nothing pretty 

about designing the wrong man

to cultivate two strands quicksand 

in a no holy matrimony committee 

all because the sex was too early

and we’re vex

through the switch 

from the man 

we decide to fornicate 

in a fading euphoric state 

pre-marital sex 

will never delegate

the heart of the man

by then its far too late 

we pressed send 

on a painful journey of offend

through tear-stained pretend 

and hallow swallows 

always follow 

a man will never respectfully 

buy the cow when the milk was free

a man already got the cookies 

a man drifts as he switches 

a man studies 

who a woman makes her buddies 

a man thinks 

and the sex-filled relationship sinks

a man drinks from his wandering winks

a man will always maunder 

and ponder on other women 

a man will cheat 

because the woman is cheap

the cow was so free 

a man put in no work 

as a woman we feel that hurt

from the easily access cookies 

as a woman 

there’s a level of respect 

that hiccups make us forget 

that pressure through worldly gestures 

we neglect and reject 

to create a hurt 

with no worth prospect 

a man will never love 

if God didn’t approve from Above

a man will never see Holy 

if God isn’t in the matrimony 

that wrong hues of two

will never be godly truth

as a woman sex cannot be used 

as a woman sex cannot be a ruse

as a fuse because we just lose 

as a woman sex will always feel abused 

when we decide to lie

and hide what hurts inside 

sex is for the man God 

says go to

only to one man 

as a woman 

we must stand  

in Jesus Christ 

He’ll never leave 

or make us bleed 

He’ll never cause strife 

only God can make us a wife

not the world 

as a best last first bite

Jesus Christ removes wrong weeds

Jesus Christ refuses with fruitful seeds

Jesus Christ is the same

Jesus Christ will never

make us feel shame or lame 

Jesus Christ protects our hearts

only God knows that one man

only God creates three strands:

he + He + her

will always be His Stir

as a woman

we have to wait 

Love your sister Crysta  

Harper

wrong she’s obsessed with an offset

wrong she’s obsessed with a reset 

wrong she’s obsessed:

with rejecting His Truth

with neglecting His Proof

with regretting choosing to lose

the path to wrong math: 

two strands aftermath

will never be the see 

to His Craft

wrong she refuses to lose this ruse 

seeing and believing 

wrong she’s not for this he

fuses this ruse to continue 

the weed that bleeds this wrong song throng 

to press play in decay & confuse 

the grim in this slim 

continues to grow dim

wrong she’s in present time 

this life is a suffocating strife 

wrong she’s no longer stronger

as best last first bite 

this he let go 

of this chaotic, robotic, and toxic show 

wrong she’s obsessed with an offset

wrong she’s obsessed with a reset 

wrong she’s obsessed:

with rejecting His Truth

with neglecting His Proof

with regreting choosing to lose

the path to wrong math: 

two strands aftermath

will never be the see 

to His Craft 

no amount of serving 

will permanently block 

this stopwatch clock curving

to keep the cheap lemonade 

rewinding this he’s mind 

in a looped isolated troop of time

this two strands quicksand 

is no longer where this he stands 

this he chooses to lose flesh

with his continual confess 

as this he reflects 

no longer stronger in neglect 

this he let go of this suffocating show

this he saw wrong she’s chaotic claws 

could no longer sink 

as this he’s drunkenness think

this he let go 

of this chaotic, robotic, and toxic show 

wrong she’s obsessed with an offset

wrong she’s obsessed with a reset 

wrong she’s obsessed:

with rejecting His Truth

with neglecting His Proof

with regretting choosing to lose

the path to wrong math: 

two strands aftermath

will never be the see 

to His Craft

the alcohol drowned out truth

this he’s now sober and choosing His Proof

that ugly backwards hat 

was wrong she’s rebellious zealous spat 

was a weed this wrong she feeds

to be the need in flesh bleed

was wrong she’s gauge

in this he’s caged rage 

in the funk of non stop drunkenness

to feed this wrong she’s foe stage

keeping him grim, slim, and trim

this wrong she is no doctor

through this he’s pockets

drunkenness was this he’s visual sockets

and supposed to stop him from fleeing

this he was forever supposed to see

press play in decay & drunk agreeing 

by wrong she’s toxic, chaotic, and robotic 

believing lying, dying, and fake stake crying

confusion was this wrong she’s 

infusion for this he’s pale scales 

this he let go 

of this chaotic, robotic, and toxic show 

wrong she’s obsessed with an offset

wrong she’s obsessed with a reset 

wrong she’s obsessed:

with rejecting His Truth

with neglecting His Proof

with regretting choosing to lose

the path to wrong math: 

two strands aftermath

will never be the see 

to His Craft

sip sip drip drip sniff sniff 

in the dip of mixed drinks

this he was always supposed to sink

in intoxication and hesitated penetration 

thinks of sinking drinking 

alcohol and drugs are no longer this he’s plug

the sike and spikes of kool-aid

as this odored wrong she cheap lemonade

the stench is no longer drenched or clenched

in this he’s empty space of worldly leap

because this wrong she is a cheap creep

and no longer the flee to see 

the milk was free

she who findeth not he

as a replace of corruptive confetti

only God can set all free 

hurt to have worth 

in this he’s flesh god facades 

Jesus rejected mixed drinks 

on the Cross of Calvary

this he let go 

of this chaotic, robotic, and toxic show

 wrong she’s obsessed with an offset

wrong she’s obsessed with a reset 

wrong she’s obsessed:

with rejecting His Truth

with neglecting His Proof

with regretting choosing to lose

the path to wrong math: 

two strands aftermath

will never be the see 

to His Craft

wrong she wanted 

this he forever loss

lust was never supposed 

to become a wrap up rust of dust 

this he was never supposed to see

this wrong she was always aligned 

and designed as temporary 

wrong she’s time is no longer rewind 

regardless of the enforced 

coursed ceremonial drunkenness beeline

in that legalized and hypnotized 

hit it and quit it misfit

this he let go 

of this chaotic, robotic, and toxic show 

wrong she’s obsessed with an offset

wrong she’s obsessed with a reset 

wrong she’s obsessed:

with rejecting His Truth

with neglecting His Proof

with regretting choosing to lose

the path to wrong math: 

two strands aftermath

will never be the see 

to His Craft

pride cannot hide the weed of lies 

quietly, violently, and silently inside 

wrong she’s choosing to lose in aloof

wrong she’s pathological lying 

is rapidly dying 

and her foe crying 

is no longer the manipulation 

vanished in ablation by God 

this wrong hue of two will never be true

wrong she is now lame, shamed, and tame 

in the stark, dark, or no spark night community

now an alienation by God 

from joining that phony unity 

wrong she is not stronger

as the wrong she flesh god facade to this he

this he is sharper 

because of His Prophetic Harper 

it’s year three now 

this he sees knees need to bow 

three strands will never be quicksand 

he + He + her

will always be His Stir

this he let go 

of this chaotic, robotic, and toxic show 

wrong she’s obsessed with an offset

wrong she’s obsessed with a reset 

wrong she’s obsessed:

with rejecting His Truth

with neglecting His Proof

with regretting choosing to lose

the path to wrong math: 

two strands aftermath

will never be the see 

to His Craft

full circle of sharper Harper 

year three is now 

the bow from t-shirt ‘deliver me’

this he’s hurt is no longer with no worth

this he’s pain now has gain by God 

this he rejects flesh god facade

wrong she is dip six

wrong she’s lies cannot hide or fix 

what’s no longer stronger inside 

wrong weeds bleed out 

despite wrong she’s pouts and shouts

wrong she will continue to be 

God’s see as this two strand quicksand 

this seven year aged difference

will always be 

God’s see of cage raged worldly inference 

wrong she’s obsessed with an offset

wrong she’s obsessed with a reset 

wrong she’s obsessed:

with rejecting His Truth

with neglecting His Proof

with regretting choosing to lose

the path to wrong math: 

two strands aftermath

will never be the see 

to His Craft

God wants this he to keep walking forward

wrong she will never catch 

this he’s march or match 

in this he’s freedom strides 

of godly humbling prideful rides 

from the wilderness in wrong she’s snout 

this he sees

this he is now free

to flee from wrong she’s drinks

from wrong she’s winks

from wrong she’s sinking thinks 

to flee from wrong she’s 

screeching leeching humming 

in lustily rusty drumming 

sip sip drip drip sniff sniff 

this he no longer 

presses play in stronger 

winking thinking sinking drunken whiffs

this wrong she needs to receive

this he’s shift and drift 

wrong she’s obsessed with an offset

wrong she’s obsessed with a reset 

wrong she’s obsessed:

with rejecting His Truth

with neglecting His Proof

with regretting choosing to lose

the path to wrong math: 

two strands aftermath

will never be the see 

to His Craft

he + He + her

will always be His Stir 

aimez vos côtes bleu vous attend

Ombré 

Dear Dad, 

My silence was my ombré in all this brutal violence. My silence was my ombré to delay my day in the night where I fight. My silence was my ombré to be in sorrow to never see tomorrow. But that doesn’t work for you, because you are true; and I’m the ombré that’s blue times two. 

God, my eyes are opened. My parents are broken. I’m broken. The world is broken. My parents want to stay in this decay of yesterday. My parents want to lose in the ruse of refuse when it comes to you God. My parents want to feel the reel of their flesh god facade. My parents want to pretend that their lies are no longer stronger in hiding what’s inside. My parents want to keep believing they’re receiving their corruptive confetti instead of their growing unattended empty. Empty is not a space that can ever be replaced without you God. 

You don’t replace God. You restore, you revive, and you remind us that we thrive, not just pass along playing a self made cheap lemonade song, in this pit stop called Earth only to survive. Man cannot confirm, only you God affirm His Return. The world doesn’t want to be still. The world doesn’t want to grab Your Gills. The world doesn’t want to discern your Hidden Detailed Concerns. Thank you for hiding your details God. It pushes me, as your daughter and anyone else who’s over the flesh god facade, to be lead by the Holy Spirit through surrender. Your Hidden Details, and parables are only understood through the surrender of the Holy Spirit. 

I cannot talk in this fake, break, and take walk anymore. This economy of language is a catastrophic sandwich. This economy of language has a meat that presses play on the delay of defeat. This is a collection of waste in a space that has no digestion. This is a waste in a space of violent silent vomit confessions. Only a fool returns to his own vomit. 

We are all fools playing in a pool of vomit clinging to false prophets who make it hobbit, because the bleed in seeds that’s a weed shows tangibility. Tangibility is a ruse we all choose to lose in the decay of yesterday, by never pressing send on the end of pretend. Tangibility will never lead to accountability or maturity. Tangibility is a stance in a non-mobile dance, where the cries hide the lies that we all fight to keep inside. Stagnancy is a mockery of the Holy Trinity and His Divinity. Stagnancy is the nonverbal omission, to give permission for pale scales to prevail; and have us as broken vessels fail to see God through our flesh god facade. 

As a dog returns to his vomit, so a fool returns to his folly. Proverbs 26:11. 

My silence was my ombré in all this brutal violence. My silence was my ombré to delay my day in the night where I fight. My silence was my ombré to be in sorrow to never see tomorrow. But that doesn’t work for you, because you are true; and I’m the ombré that’s blue times two. 

I’m overwhelmed God. I’m tired of being mad at you. I’m tired of being sad and crying. I’m tired of pushing through this residue of lying and feeling like I’m dying. People are fake, break and take. I don’t trust anyone. I’m tired of my words being twisted and misrepresented. I trust no one outside of you God and Jojo.* it’s hard for me to fully trust anyone outside of you and Jojo. I trust people in increments. 

I’m tired of seeing my mother be paralyzed in fears she just never took to you all these years God. Now you have me witnessing my mother die rapidly right in front of my eyes. All I see is someone that gave up and that angers me. I’m always upset around her. I don’t like being around her. I’m so disappointed in her. This isn’t the mom I had growing up. Where’s that woman? I miss her. I don’t like this chick in front of me. I don’t want this chick in front of me. I want my mom back. Why isn’t my mom being revived like the Bible says? 

How the heck is witnessing my mom die before my eyes edifying your Great Name? How the heck is this pruning me to be a better daughter for your kingdom? How the heck does this better me? How the heck does it better me to see my father hide in alcohol? How the heck does it better me to see my brother choose the wrong path too? Why can’t you just let me walk away. This is too much. Out of sight used to be out of mind, until you took that away God, through this he you say is for me. I can’t do this anymore. How the heck is this all supposed to make me okay with Your Obey? Everything is so impossible looking. 

You know I’m overwhelmed. Yet you keep showing me what you do, like what happened at work Wednesday. You’re making work impossible too!? Like you called me to education God. See, this is why I avoided this stupid calling. I knew this would be so impossible looking and feeling. I am getting no breaks God. You have no chill button. I’m over you making this all insane. You’re making all areas of my life hard. I get it, no more stagnancy and no more running. But can you press the chill button now God? 

My silence was my ombré in all this brutal violence. My silence was my ombré to delay my day in the night where I fight. My silence was my ombré to be in sorrow to never see tomorrow. But that doesn’t work for you, because you are true; and I’m the ombré that’s blue times two. 

Do you see why I was like ‘oh time to go,’ at jobs, with humans, in my broken relationships of the past. In all aspects of my life I was quick to leave because I refused to lose in ruses. I saw all of these rushing winds and tsunamis of shake ups. I don’t like them. I leave before things hit the fan. I don’t like fighting but I don’t like someone coming for me either. That’s when I get over my dislike of fighting, and I’m ready to knock someone out. I’ve always pride myself into never being that transparent nor letting anyone outside of my circle see me pissed off. But then Wednesday happened, and I’m like shell shocked still. But I have no time to process anything, at least that’s how I feel. I had grad school that same night. I shut down after my team meeting with my graduating cohort. I was shocked by my candid expression. I shut down. 

What I wanted to do, to that daughter that came out her face on Wednesday, was knock her teeth out and make her other leg break. That way she’ll be double wobbly. But you’re humbling her through this one foot wonder. This chick is still not listening to you God. This chick bothers me God. What bothers me more is you won’t let me tell her about herself. You mute me every time. I’m finally feeling home free about this he you say is for me; because one I’m not around to see that train wreck. He chose the wrong she, and was poached like a robotic roach that he’s really not, just for this caught up in the wrong voices by his fearful choices song; and he was coached in that night no unity community to lose in this ruse. I keep praying he leaves or gets pulled out. I keep praying this hit it and quit it misfit, my he was talked into making this the legal messy commitment gets dissolved; and he’s set free from that worldly ugly. Only if that’s your will. Your son needs Your Gills. Your son needs to be still. 

That wrong she doesn’t do anything for this he you say is for me. He’s not challenged by that wrong she, or that no unity night community he may still believe in. He’s not being held accountable nor is he growing. You love in the realm of growth God. You love in the realm of order and peace. That wrong she is none of those truths. This wrong she stings my he, and this woman is wearing his wedding rings when she shouldn’t be birthing stagnancy. This he you say is for me is stagnant, and a magnet being used and abused, by that no unity night community. My he is living a life in secret strifed stifle with this wrong she as a his best last first bite. Wrong she did well to hook this he under her suffocating and decaying spell. 

Check it, even if it’s not me? It’s definitely not her. This wrong she will never be he + He + her. This wrong she will never be the path to correct math with this he or be His Stir. This wrong she is bad news because she wants to be of the world. This wrong she is bad news because she chooses the ruse of pretending to be godly when in her cold stone heart she wants the flesh god facades. That’s why darkness and chaos walks with her. That’s why this wrong she is off. This wrong she needs a heart check. There’s a lot that this wrong she rejects and neglects. But this is the she this he you say is for me, decided to do life with. 

Okay, let him keep slim, let him keep looking dim and grim, so he can press play on that decay of never ending pretend. You finally moved me from that church. According to me I’m set free. There were a lot of good memories there and I did grow there; but the bad memories are all I see. They’re all I replay in my decay of yesterday. All I see is the flesh god facades of an “Alice and Wonderland” quicksand of where the Holy Spirit no longer dwells. I’ve been asking you to move me from that church since I had that meeting with that false prophet who made it hobbit, back in January. January-July was torturous to be there still. But what got me through that was choosing to lose in your Gills. I choose Your Purpose over the world’s popularity like the theme of that church I’m thankfully free from. 

My silence was my ombré in all this brutal violence. My silence was my ombré to delay my day in the night where I fight. My silence was my ombré to be in sorrow to never see tomorrow. But that doesn’t work for you, because you are true; and I’m the ombré that’s blue times two. 

After Wednesday I no longer care about transparency. I no longer care about the sensitivity of where others feel or how others see. No one gives a crap about my feelings, and I’m tired of caring about others. The world wants to broken then stumble and crumble in this terminal fumble. 

After everything that’s happened to me since I said yes, is all too much. I’m overwhelmed in this fight to rise above and choose love. I’m starting to believe love is only when we leave this pitstop called earth, and I just have to figure out how to operate in this poisonous place until you move me on. I’m so over everything. I’m so discouraged. I don’t see anything, and I don’t believe in people changing anymore. 

There’s still so many routines that are mean, lean, and glean like my life. My family didn’t change. Jojo didn’t change. I didn’t change, and that he you claim is for me didn’t change. We are still all hiding the lies inside. The world is bold in being cold. Fighting feels stupid. Believing feels stupid. Choosing the road less travels feels stupid. All of this feels stupid. Writing is starting to feel stupid. I don’t even want to write anymore. I loved writing. I loved loving. I loved cheering and encouraging people. I want to just start over fresh, and far away from here. I wish I was going to Italy too for three months like my sister Elaine* is doing. It was so nice to catch up with her this past weekend. But I want to leave too. I don’t want to be here around this poison and this brokenness. I’m sure Italy has brokenness but it’s a blank canvas of brokenness. That’s my cup of ombré: blank.

I’m tired of being stalked by this broken daughter at work. This chick clocks everything I do and makes me so uncomfortable, that I want out of this job. I want out of this calling. I just want out. I’m tired of being nitpicked by people, especially my father. He’s so broken. Yes I grew up tough, because of God first and foremost but also my dad. But his brokenness is not necessary. I’m broken and fight not to be fake, break, and take. Do I fail? All the time, like twenty minutes ago when I was on the phone with Jojo. 

I’m tired of failing and I’m tired of brokenness. Wednesday the thin thread that kept me going in this job broke. What’s the point of fighting God? Seems like darkness is in the spotlight. Darkness is front and center at my job and my old church. People will still try to break me, and come for my character. And the routine of you God blocking me from hurting someone comes. I’m tired of rising above and choosing love. It’s abused. It’s reused, it’s just a ruse to me now. I want to sleep and not wake up sometimes like take a final bow. 

This brokenness was in the Bible 2,000 years ago. Nothing changed. All those hopeful world changing vessels in the Bible died believing; that there was going to be change. There’s still none. Only you know the timing God. Even though I’m too through, and I’m very discouraged and over everything, truly wishing for rapture, and the end of the world was here. This truth remains: You won’t quit on me. You won’t let me quit life. You won’t let me quit this walk. You still rise above and choose love with me, when I know I don’t make it easy. You keep loving me through my hot-mess ways on how I delay my decays of my yesterday’s. My muted salutes no longer work as a tribute. I don’t like that. I don’t like that you’re not letting me suffer silently anymore. You’re making me speak up and it’s annoying. 

My silence was my ombré in all this brutal violence. My silence was my ombré to delay my day in the night where I fight. My silence was my ombré to be in sorrow to never see tomorrow. But that doesn’t work for you, because you are true; and I’m the ombré that’s blue times two. 

Every time I’m in this place, you meet me God. You replace my hate for love because hate is a facade. That’s why I love you so much. You meet me. You taught Jojo to meet me. No one else gets me, according to me. I’m okay with that truth, according to me. You’re not God, because it’s a facade. Elaine gets me, Benjamin* gets me, C* gets me, and B* gets me. I get them all too but they’re going through their journey your way not mine. 

Even in the midst of my discouragement I still love love. I thought I was psychosocial but I’m actually a nonconformist. The message is received from that dream I just had. I choose to lose in the refuse to press play in abuse through man’s ruse. I choose to lose in the obey of your ombré, because I stand in this worldly quicksand. God you will always be my steadfast, stable upward falling walking on water land. 

My silence was my ombré in all this brutal violence. My silence was my ombré to delay my day in the night where I fight. My silence was my ombré to be in sorrow to never see tomorrow. But that doesn’t work for you, because you are true; and I’m the ombré that’s blue times two. 

Love your daughter.

*names changed for privacy purposes. #TeamProPrivacy