My soul needs saving
Mary come close and
Grab hold of my heart
Purify it whole

Save me from what my future holds
Keep me from straying
Stop all these evil people coming in close
I need you to protect me
To keep me warm and to prevent me
From turning cold

Pull out the dread from my intestines
Save my soul or am I
too late
My devil demands that I throw you up
He wants to purify you from my heart
but  
My heart is empty
and he won't let me fill it up


Oh mother mary come and save me before I am gone

I AWOKE THIS MORNING WITH A VERSE IN MY MIND , AND THIS IS WHAT BECAME OF IT.

CHRIST – THE LAST ROUNDUP
He was on his last roundup; all his followers were brought in
About to be crucified to wipe away man s sins
They laid him on a cross with a thorn crown upon his head
Then he was nailed to it, and would be left until he was dead.
His cries would echo out from on top of that hill
Even the ROMAN guards had sensed a chill.
As the skies became as dark as night, and the son of GOD
Would lose this fight.
The thunder and lightning was heard and seen
As he let out his final scream.
The strongest of men would pass out from the pain
That he would endure as the ROMAN said:
“He truly was the son of GOD “!
And from this world, he would depart.
He was taken down from the cross and the nails
Taken out from his hands and feet and his
Body cleansed for his LORD to meet.
The rabbi‘s feared that his body may be removed
They put guards at his tomb.
On the third day when the early morning came
The stone had been moved away.
The roman guards in total awe could not believe what they saw.
How was the stone moved without sight or sound?
As the guards stood all around.
His reappearing to his followers would be the
Last miracle they would see!
The rest you know is history.

“Truly in the heart there is a void that can not be removed-
    except with the company of God."

"And in it there is a sadness-
that can not be removed except with the happiness of knowing God
        and being true to Him."

"And in it there is an emptiness that can not be filled except with love for Him
    and by turning to Him,
        and always remembering Him."

"And if a person were given all of the world-
   and what is in it,
           it would not fill this emptiness.”

- Ibn Qayyim Al Jawziyyah

On her knees
Willing to please
Hands connected
Questions deflected    

fall from grace
disgraced face
****** tears
human fears

“What have I done?”
Orphaned daughter
Afraid to hear the answer
From God’s son

I used to think knowing God
Was sitting in church pews,
Reciting prayers,
And following rules,
That you could only find Him
In the shaming of the sinful
Controlling your thoughts,
Never questioning anything;
Not your faith,
Not your Pastor,
And certainly not Him.
But church pews tired my eyes,
And reciting prayers didn’t make my heart feel,
Following all the rules was restricting.
Shaming the sinful, well that was easy,
But it doesn’t mean it felt right.
Controlling my thoughts was impossible altogether,
And never questioning anything left me
Panicked
And scared.

But I still found God.

I found him in the city of New Orleans,
In a sea of thousands I never felt more intimate with Him
I saw him staring at me,
In the gleaming eyes of children,
And holding my hand
Through the trials I still face today.
I see him in eyes of the homeless beggars,
Walking on the streets with nothing to eat,
He's in my actions when I help the people
I have always despised.
I feel his presences always,
Filling me with hope and light.
I talk to him with tear stained cheeks
And white knuckles gripping the steering wheel,
And just because it’s not with my hands pressed together
And knees on the ground,
Doesn’t mean it’s nothing.
I have found God,
In places unexpected,
And that has given me light.

Libera me, Domine,
de morte aeterna
in die illa tremenda
quando coeli movendi sunt et terra

dum veneris judicare
saeculum per ignem.
Tremens factus sum
ego et timeo,
dum discussion venerit atque venture ira:
quando coeli movendi sunt et terra.

November 21, 1976. 11:00 P.M.

With nothing
he packs his suitcase, turns
to his own personal prophet
and watches and waits
and waits, he will wait
for an hour.

And finally
the prophet speaks
in monotone, three short syllables.

He opens the door, careful
not to wake dad.
Turning the corner,
the suitcase jars the door ajar.

A stirring from upstairs.

Remembering the face of madness
behind the pulpit
behind the door,
he races out, fearful
of footsteps drawing louder
and with them, promises
of pain.