I started writing again
I sit in the sunshine
I traded in the drink for a pen
The pen is actually my smartphone

But alas that doesn’t rhyme or flow
My poetry is broken
As am I
I feel as if awoken

From a long deep slumber
One I tossed an sweated through
One much needed
Now the morning light is peeking through

Except there again my poem is lacking
I don’t even care
As I hear my bones cracking
I rise from my bed with a stretch

Shaking out the nightmares
I now forget
Crying and smiling at the same time

I know I will always remember
Those nightmares past
I know I will never forget

And yet here I am, whole
And yet lost
Staring at the morning sun
Wondering what it is
That has begun

Breathing
Putrid air
In my lungs

Longing
For the putrid air
Never goes away

What I would give
To hold that little stick
And not feel like I let myself down

The church today

according to themselves

Are the Hands and the Feet of Jesus

those hands are torn and broken

The church today is meant to help those in need

as long as they sit and listen to us reprimand them

They reach out with loving kindness

as long as you have stopped taking drugs and drinking

And give prepared meals and a warm place to sleep

as long as the government keeps giving them tax cuts

They see the need and they strive to fill it as Jesus would

as long as they keep showing up on Sunday and giving tithe

When others fall away from Jesus, the church is still standing, worshipping God

as the children in the streets go hungry

The church takes a stand against sin, against abortion

and the children who’s parents get taken from this world are sent to foster care, they are the governments problem, not the churches

The church today takes a stand against homosexuality, keeping it out of children’s books and schools and tv shows

and the loving parents are kept from adopting, kept from helping those parentless children the church said weren’t their problem

The church in America today cares more about the money they have then what Jesus said

the church today is a capitalist tool for corruption

If pastors would stop taking a salary and get real jobs

what kind of difference would that make

If pastors would stop taking a salary and give that money away

what kind of change could we see today?

Could we build houses for the homeless?

could we help families eager to adopt, but unable to gather the funds?

Could we be there during natural disasters to help lend a hand?

Think of the change just a few pastors salary could make in the day to day lives

but I bet you won’t see any pastors who would do that

That is the church today

I’m crying watching tiktok
Wishing we could talk

Wondering if you remember
How we were supposed to make pretzels
That long past December
You told me to buy the yeast
And I waited
                         and waited
                                                and waited









For you to call
And therein lies the fall
I fell for your lies
Holding my breath again
Now I’ve burned those ties
At least I don’t have to pretend

I step outside for a smoke
Just me ‘n the pups in this cold morning light
I leave the door open just to let the breeze bite
I don’t want to forget
I don’t want to leave
I find myself wanting to sit in these moments
And holding on with such force
I can see my hands going white
Just trying not to lose
This cold morning light

Well hello twenty four
Didn’t hear you knocking at my door
Woke up to happy birthday baby
Me wondering where good morning went
Out the door to early you just missed him
Dancing in the breeze on a whim
Here I am now twenty four
No surprise, there’s still skeletons beneath the floor
The darkness didn’t go away
Like we had hoped
Getting older doesn’t cure it
Just makes it easier to hide
Still wish I had died
Yet here we are at twenty four
In the dessert heat
No reprieve from the sun
But the suns healing
And the healings only begun
So much left to do
With no idea how to start
Just hoping that I can find my heart
Buried it years ago
Now at twenty four
Hoping I can find it, when I open the right door