I use to hurt people,
Now I help people,
The pain brought me some peace,
It had me thinking about my life,
Thinking about my choices,
Looking at myself,
Questioning my motives.

Life ain't the same for me,
Don't think the same,
Don't live the same,
Don't feel the same,
God replaced my heart with a new heart,
Was once cold-hearted,
Now I have a big heart.

Facing pain in the eyes changed my vision,
Crying my eyes out left me numb,
What I felt I can't feel no more,
What I was doing I ain't doing no more,
The way I was living i ain't living no more,
Confessed my sins and repented,
God forgave me,
Right my wrongs,
I'm now singing a new song.

You can lock me up but can't lock up my mind,
Can't change who I am,
You can **** me but can't **** my spirit,
My soul can't be taken from me,
I'm prayed up and covered with holy water,
The baptism of my sins,
Ain't perfect but my old ways are gone,
I've reincarnated my soul and been given a new one.

Nothing is forgotten,
Karma is very much real,
We have to answer to things we do,
How we treat others will come back upon you,
I've confessed my sins,
I've been forgiven,
But nothing will ever be forgotten.

Take a long look within yourself,
You shall see past the surface,
The element of our ways aren't always right,
You can't see nothing when you you're stuck within yourself. Open yourself up not stay closed off.

We can see more than ourselves,
If we step outside of ourselves,
There's more to the world than ourselves,
Life has more to offer than we realize,
I took a step back and realized that for myself,
Life has gotten better when I became better.

-2:16 a.m-
emilenn is online
hey, are you up?
nvm
doesn't matter
there's so much I need to tell you
and at this point it doesn't matter if you're here to listen or not
so i'll start off with the heaviest thing
i love you
and right now im not quite sure what that means
but i needed to say it because i don't say it nearly enough
next thing on the list is that i miss you so much right now
and i dont know if it's the isolation getting to me or what
but i miss everything about you
your hands
and how i was always too nervous to ask if i could hold them
because i didnt know where we stood
and for some reason
something deep inside me
thought asking would make you hate me
your eyes
and the little tears of laughter that would ***** up in them
whenever i would do that impression of my old chemistry teacher
because your laugh was golden to me
and id do anything to hear it again
your smile
and how you refused to show your teeth cos you hated your braces
and how i so badly wanted to pry your lips open with mine
because your braces are so **** cute
your voice
and that raspiness it gets when you laugh too hard for too long
and how for some reason
i wanted to hug you every time your voice got like that
or maybe im just being melodramatic
and this is all too much for a conversation at 2 am
with a person whos not even here
but i need you to know how loved you are
because i haven't been told in a long time
whether or not people actually care about me
and not to **** on your family
but i figured it was the same for you
so i love you
whatever that means
*emilenn has left

I didn't tell you I loved you
Because I thought that you already knew.
I never told you you meant the world to me
Because I thought it was clear to see.
Or maybe that's just the way I wanted it to be.
But now that you've gone away,
I asked myself if it's too late to tell you these things.
A voice answered back.
"It's never too late."

Welcome to the worse
ending of our human universe,
cause this is the lamest
apocalypse.

While the world is dealing with
a covid pandemic
and corruption that is so systemic
that our president can’t even begin
to hide it,

I am keeping busy by
trying to write
brilliant rays
of inspiration into
this endless night life;
Tired of the long line
of the long blind
stumbling stupidly
far behind,
unable to find a sound mind
among their cult of greed.

My deep dark cynicism
has been building
brand new chasms
that collapse into
whispering despair voids
which need to be exercised regularly,
but all of the gyms are closed.

I know there are truths and perspectives
that sparkle under the surface,
of this world that makes me feel worthless,
things seldom seen unless the poet deems
to share their deep dark beautiful dreams.

But those were the poems I wrote
to warn of the wolves at our throat,
and now I see my lines of predictive poetry
have becomes our pathetic armageddon reality.

strange professions and true confessions from a lockdown town (4/17/20)
————————————————————————————-————-

not a great idea,
in the not-yet-dawn,
to write
a poem entitled
strange professions,
true confessions

dried stains of prior leakings
upon old ‘n yellowed linoleum,
no need for more friends,
for sure, for sure,
that’s the smart play

you see! right there
I’m professing age
old wisdom,
confessing my sorry face is
well acquainted with
floor coverings,
where even the
soles of my shoes
won’t admit they been polluted,

having stepped in rooms
of low and ill repute,
those them there,
right in here
poetry writing sites
where there ain’t no
guideposts, reminding
what’s in the heart
pretend stays in Vegas,
but what the heck,
since I’m here already,
might as well,
ready go and spill,
things you don’t
need to know but...

help the time pass
in this lockdown town,
where total silence is
the loudest sound around

wine, empty beery bottles,
bad rhymes give me up,
just before I start a hey look!
it’s a brand new
sunny rain afternoon

the governor pronounced
we all gotta be masked,
24/7 inside and out,
the women complain that it
musses hair, the men say,
who me? nah, got
nothing to say about that,
We, don’t make no con-cessions...

when you can’t see
my lips moving, or my
one good eye be winking,
means it’s likely that I’m lying

they say, I’m going
stir crazy,
not me says he,
unlike  some guy who
wanted to blow up the
Alice-in Wonderland statue in
Central Park, hell,
u could look it up!

guess I coulda call this
here epistle, official “Lockdown Blues,”
but I jes heard gotta stay inside
till June Seventeen
that’s the good news,
plenty o’time to set
my affairs in order,
burn the poems nobody
needs seeing, those them
there with weirdness galore,
say no more,

you can whine, it’s fine,
no caring, no hearing,
past way the point,
where running or returning
is an option viable for nut jobs

them, with strange professions
and true confessions...

My comfort zone is more like a black-hole...
I fall into it real easy....
And when i finally get this teeny weeny bit of determination to get out of it, it pulls me back into it leaving me feeling lazy, depressed, anxious and guilty all at once.