YHWH

For You, I am a Lion
For You, I am a Slave
For You, I am a Lovesick Man

For me, there can be no other god
No other deity can compare
You are my King
My Love
My Messiah
Instruct me in Your ways
Teach me to walk in Your paths
And I will follow You forever

Amen

September Equinox

Seeking rest after a hard day's night, I find myself once again writing something for this blog.
Let's see what happens today...
G

Embracing Autumn

Autumn has sexy auburn hair and entrancing hazel eyes. Those eyes capture me, and she draws me in with that incredible smile. 
She gives the best hugs, it's all scarves and flannel and blue jeans with her; a warm fall scent: cinnamon and sunshine. She's warm and cool, all at the same time. 
We just walk hand in hand, the chilly breeze on our faces offset by the sun's gentle rays. 
Our footsteps fall into syncopation- crash crunch, crash crunch, through the fallen leaves. Geese fleeing the coming cold soar high above; and we lie on the bed of discarded foliage staring at the sky. Her skin is soft, and my heart beats faster. I couldn't wait to be with her, and now I can't stand the thought of her leaving. 
Her kiss, with those soft pink lips, stops my heart cold. I blush, and can't meet those hazel eyes with mine. The freckles on her cheeks catch my attention and I am further entranced. The way her hair curls around her ears. The way she talks so casually, always thoughtful and introspective. She means everything that she says, and I hang on every sound. I watch her lips as she talks, the way they form each word.
I see clouds on the horizon, pink and orange from the setting sun. A cold breeze whips through the air, cutting through our clothes. I know the time is coming. 
It kills me to know that she'll be gone as the darkness of winter closes in. But for now, I just want to breath her in and let go of all my stress and fears.
I just want to fall into her arms and forget about the world.

End

Raawr!

Swoosh!
Patink!
Gow!

Eight Minutes / Ghosts

Eight minutes to write, then I have to flip the chicken on the grill. I'm always worried they'll be overcooked, or undercooked. It's the grill that's the problem, the tiny little grill with no airflow, got it for six bucks. I only liked it because it's TARDIS blue.
Anyway, I can't let this little blog die, clutch its stomach and keel over in pain. Pass away through neglect. Like all of my other little pet projects. I have a closet of dead pets(projects) their little bodies all crunchy and stiff. And the flies.
Been so busy lately, and I know that I don't exactly have a huge following on here, (don't be turned off if your reading this,) but that's not why I'm doing this. It's for me, ya know? A place to call my own, a space over which I have supreme control, and which only I can change. An eye in my constant mental storm. Amidst, you guessed it, the thunder and the rain.
I hope, dear reader, that you enjoy this poem. I have to flip the chicken.

Ghosts

Twenty thousand ghosts came running down the hall
Flying down the hall
A blue and white squall
Of spirits and demons and monsters and mists
All swirling and rushing toward me at the end
Their faces all tormented twisted and torn
Their clothes and their wings were all tattered and torn
With tooth and nail and claw and grin
All came rushing toward me at the end
Their eyes, oh the scorn, were bitter cold lights filled with a hatred so dark and forlorn
And the sound of those ghosts
Like the sea on the rocks, or the winds through the forests or the blood in your ears
The speed of these ghosts like a train in the night, through darkness and fog and the absence of light
Though it seemed like I waited for four hundred years
Then they fell on me
And silence
And ice
The stillness and quiet of a cold moonless night

End