it's cold

it's cold
my heart.
and lonesome too
stale, daunting
crystal blue.

it's lost
my soul.
unrelenting pain
sadness, confusion
pouring rain.

it's hiding
my hope.
i know it's there
somewhere, a blessing
my cross to bear.

it'll heal
with time.
i'm so impatient
wanting, yearning
just need to face it.

funny isn't it

funny isn't it
when your go to person
isn't there

when the person you count on
more than anyone
has disappeared

when you pick up the phone
and dial the number
and the voice on the other end
doesn't seem to care

overwhelming isn't it
this realization i've accepted
it's cold, it's absent
it was oh so rare

that connection so deep
those feelings so strong
no matter what i went through
i could do no wrong

so warming isn't it
knowing i don't need him
so many kind words
have lifted my spirit

from those who i thought
were just another friend
but who i now know
will be there, til the end

my heart is broken

my heart is broken
i loved her crazy ways
i was named for her
born on her birthday
now with questions unanswered
and words unsaid
my heart it hurts
why is she dead?

gramma june, if i could, i'd have
watched you last night to make sure you were safe
and talked to you about the election and all that's at stake
i want it undone, i want someone to blame
i don't get it, what happened, you were well, you were sane
then out of nowhere, this unexpected word
you were amazing, huge heart, song like a bird

dear God, i've never dealt with death before
i don't know what to do, how to feel
my soul, it is sore
and bruised and confused and unyielding and sad
and I won't lie, it's wrong, and i'm sorry
but i'm mad.
i'm mad at the world and mad at myself
for everytime i could have called her or wrote her
but put those thoughts on the shelf
to whatever i thought was more important or less work
now i feel selfish and wrong and sorry
and a jerk.

but i loved her with all of my heart
i still do,
and i hope, i pray, that she knows that,
as do You.

so I ask that you watch over her, and protect her
she's Yours,
my grandmother, my friend, your daughter,
before You my soul pours.

I want to be

"Forget your lust for the rich mans gold
All that you need is in your soul,
And you can do this if you try."
-Lynard Skynard

I want to be a
"simple kind of man"
not driven by wants
but satisfied by
my needs being met
in the hands of the Lord.

I don't want to succumb
to the wants and desires
of the lifestyle
that I'm leading up to
because it always seems
you live in a hurry,
you die in a hurry,
and each day is another day
that can be spent
in Praise.

I can be half of
a (humble) "power couple"
and still give back
and offer thanks
and be admired for
more than my status,
but for who I truly am
within.

And make Him happy.

its hit the point where i'm just

its hit the point where i'm just
over it

fed up, tired, complacent,
and stoic

the past (not) forgotten,
but my future's foregone it

now driven by possibility, excitement,
and music.

Our places, our things

Our places, our things
They just can’t be
Because without you
There’s no you and me.

Just you with her
And me at home
Forced to shelter
My thing, is alone.

Alone, withdrawn
Feel the pain
Safe from harm
But strangely, sane.