Roller Coaster

Life is a roller coaster of emotions,
we search through life looking for solutions,
sometimes there is sadness,
madness,
and happiness.
I try to remember that I am blessed at all times.
As I write these lines,
I seek deep within,
With my heart, soul and pen,
I fall into sin,
but I think I an not perfect.
And that is the best- kept secret,
so with that I am okay.
As long as I pray,
looking toward a better day.
But along the roller coaster ride I know,
the Lord is there to help me grow.

I am Starved For Your Love

I am Starved for Your Love

From  my eyes tears have fallen,
because you are not callin,
I sing a duet lovers song,
without you to sing along.
I journey alone
anticipating the phone
to ring,
but i know you are gone.
Complicated as its seems,
I only see you visions and dreams,
Yet my soul is starved for your love.
So Starved For Your Love.

Slavery

Slavery

Stolen and locked away
without a key.
Working and not reciving a fee,
and forbidden not to learn to read.
So how could we nurture our seeds?
Slave ships,whips, and pimps,
so much grief and suffering,
loathing and detesting,
after years of work.
Caught reminiscing of our homeland
arcoss the sea, but we hear a cry
and we are still not free.
Yeah, slavery,
A white men's cruelty.

A life

A Life

The sweet agony of failure,
The awesome satisfaction of pleasure,
Are the best times to treasure.

The Flower That Never Wilts

The Flower That Never Wilts,
was something that the heavenly father could only quilt.
By God's gracious powers that be,
This flower lives on eternally.
And carried the burdens of many.
The flower's heart was is brave,
Especially when it rose from its grave.
Its goal was to reach the people,
and this flower conquers all evil.
It also has many followers,
but was crucified by its rulers.
Even though this flower,
Has all power.
It shows us grace and mercy,
and to drink from its roots you will never be thirsty.
This flower has no price,
and we will never know the torment of this flower's sacrifice.

The Walk

Do not follow the crowd,
stand tall and be proud,
keep your head high,
and it is okay to be shy,
but always try,
walking together through the fear,
I shead a tear,
knowing God will help us
to persevere.

A Poet Dying Young

When a poet dies young,
will his lyrics be put into a song.
Or will he be crucified and hung?
Will they remember his creed,
The last of a dying breed?
Maybe he will be remembered by his bad deeds.
Or leave lasting impression,
of written expression,
Then that indeed,
will be yesterday's planted seed,
a book that one day,
someone may find and read.