Mercy cometh
to the weary
when all that can
be bared
is thought to be
history
not cause I say so
merely do I remind
by translation
of that which I
know from my
lifetime
to be true...

Faith feeds fortitude
and starves fear
until nothing can be
grown within your soil
but that of divinity
manifested in
the fruits of the labor
of the way of the world
baring the blessing
of something
far more esoteric
and not meant
to be grasped by
just any with hands
without work...

Grace
can't be stolen
borrowed or bought
only bestowed
upon those being
given the gift
of not being forsaken
despite their
short comings
and sightedness
proof that too
do they remain
in view...

Hallelujah
for constants
in storms and
the songs written
in the mist of 'em
speaking the
gospel of the soul
into existence
for when the present
ceases to be
and the past is
wondered were
the parables
put into proverbs
and preserved...

Peace be still
for you to find
study and take in
much like the Creator
unnecessary to define
simply is Greater
by design
and present
for the partaking
all the time

Ashe', Amen, Selah, Salaam

I know because
it is in the sound
of your voice
do my own breaths
pause to reset
and catch up
to the rhythm
of your attention
be it divided
misguided
or right
on point
it rise and falls
my chest
at the whim
of your next word
for those moments
until the words stop
and life support
consists of
a feeding tube
of memories
of you
this flesh
is kept alive
by this heart
buried beneath
and you
so easily
reach
each time
tickling the
backs of my knees
and it's crazy
trying to speak
with legs weak
head spinning
what is this
this feeling of
not losing
not swimming
not winning
just drifting
cloud nine like
maybe
or something
like that
that
separates you
from yourself
following a voice
that's there even if
you can't hear it
and gives way to love
by way of a
self-yielding spirit

Unable to compare
what this be like
to that of another
I simply say
I submit
not the same as quit
I just will
to your will
type thing
like
if this were war
than I'd be waving white flags
if it were six flags
my hands would be in air
letting the ride
take me
see?
minus the metaphor
and things that
poets do with words
do I
am I able
to say
this is it
you win
wasn't a battle
still you are the victor
and recipient
of the awards to bare
medals to wear
noble is this
justice
minus the metaphor
this be
divinity personified
in person
spirit to spirit
face to face
there be no worry
of what time will tell
in this space
simply the now
on repeat
this surrender
is sweet
this is love
not defeat

*written to Leona Lewis Happy (Imeem is gone

It be intuition
mixed with what I wanna do
a nice healthy dose of
it ain't gonna hurt as bad
as you think
heaping on top
with a dash
of what the fuck
served up
upside down
on a plate
of you know you wanna
with opportunity
providing the flatware
to scoop up the moment
and savor the flavor
of right now
even if the aftertaste
turns out to be a bit much
so long as you keep making moves
to get more
you'll never know
the taste of anything
but the sweetness
of the moves
I make
across you palate

It may make no sense
still in all I said so
and that's all you need know
and from that we can go
left or right
that's your choice
is this a disagreement
or is this a fight?
wage war for a purpose
or don't pull the trigger
I heard only the scared
shoot first
and I ain't nothing to fear
the way I figure
but I can be made to be
if looked at thru
the wrong lens
painted in false pretenses
does the battle plan commence
how can it not
when first you came at me?
if you ain't want it
you'd have found some roses
for the hue of the view
you chose to see...

I be waiting to go off
and talking myself down
from the position that I should -
while waiting for the pendulum
to swing back as it always does
tick tock
like a clock
hoping to not be made
to explode
I am in counting mode
waiting for you
to
see what time it is
and what you need to do

#lessonsinbratpiscesbabygirldum