He's Trying to Kill Me

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Ooo wee!!!
He's trying to kill me.

He's fought my heart.
He's fought my mind.
He floods my conscious... with thoughts other than divine.
He uses his dominions...
Imps of all kinds.

Spiritual demons, invisible to the eye,
But it's the soul that they wish to touch.
It's not by my strength that I'm lifted.
It's the Lord that keeps me up.
Up in this fight against the devil and his evil steed.
Chasing my perseverance,
causing my soul to bleed.

Bleed... lyrics of pain,
lyrics of love,
poetical prose,
and all the other depressive adjectives that you can think of.

For a writer.

Yet, here I am.
Here I stand.
Descendant of Ishmael, Isaac...a seed of Abraham.
Al-hamdu lillahi rabbil 'alamin.
It's by the blood of Jesus the Christ that I am kept clean.

Yet, the fight continues.
Each blow he throws he thinks is the coup de grâce.
But, the Lord abounds me, His angels surround me.
With His righteous right hand He lifts me.
Masha Allah!
I praise Him with hands uplifted... I stand.
Muslim... Christian?
He tries to divide me.
Child of God is what I am.

The battle is so difficult, you see,
because he knows too.
He's done peeked into my future,
trying to affect my present,
because in the past the Lord has pulled me through.

Whoooo.

He's trying to kill me.

But you see, that gives me hope.
That means I'm a threat.
That means my life has a purpose.
And that God isn't done with me yet.
There isn't anything that He wtrould allow me to endure...
that He won't enable me to go through.
I know it feels like an ongoing battle, but Jesus already won the fight.
Claiming the victory is the only thing that I have to do.
So, in hell, there's a gnashing and grinding of teeth.
A plethora of jinns, failures, because their mission couldn't be complete.
Their mission to steal my inheritance
And render my soul to eternal sleep.

That's why...

He's trying to kill me.


~Flowriter

Who Understands?

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Going home to a barren house.
Eating alone... not hearing a sound.
Laying down... no one else around.
No one to hold or to console.
Truly alone.
Days go by, not even a ring from the phone.

Who understands?

Only conversations are those between God and I.
Daily outings...
Going to the porch to look at the sky.
Puff on my cigar...
watch the planes go by.

Who understands?

The way the mind wanders.
Torturing the spirit with the past...
Making movement in the present stagnant...
The future is a dream that's continually thought.
Purpose in life... filled with "I aught".
And still, nothing is done.
The once free flowing stream of life...
Has become dammed on both ends.
Causing the ambitious spirit to be a breeding ground
for all that is unhealthy, especially sin.

Who understands?

The lowering of the guard.
Giving away what's been held dear.
Love.  Time. Heart.
To easily being thrown away and ignored.
And what was cherished... simply disappears.

Who understands?

Crying out to the Lord...
And Him, hearing your cry.
Even though, everything seems bleak...
A feeling of overwhelming peace soothes you inside.
His love, not only covers you, it fills you.
Giving you strength from within.
The loneliness, heartache, and fear...
all fade away as His spirit moves in you.
His will and plan, through His promises, becomes clear.
A boldness overtakes you...
You claim victory in your turmoil.
Victory in your strife.
Victory in your relationships.
Victory in your life.
Victory over your mind.
A realization that the struggle is your testimony.
A testimony for the divine.

Who understands?

Jesus does.


~Flowriter

The Cycle

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Have you seen? Do you know?
How the depths of love can torture so.
Leaving trails of wetness,
more than on the face,
but deep down to the soul.
The giving of the heart only for trust to be aloof.
Disappear with cold callous words, stern looks,
and poof...
It's gone.
Leaving reminiscent memories of what was
And dreams of what could be
Yet, afraid of the pain...
If things don't work out correctly.
Making love and unattainable dream.

For, to attain it, you must let down your guard
Give it unconditionally,
even though your heart bares scars.
Look past the short comings,
endure intentional pain,
regardless of how hard... time and time again.

Why? You say.
For the pain of having it
is better than the pain of its decay.
Rotting away at your heart,
corrupting your mind,
breaking down your spirit.
To save yourself you pray to the divine.

Hoping for a change.
Hoping for a start.
Hoping for a rekindling,
restoration of a once live dying heart.

Truth of the matter is...
Trust is the for runner
And is where everything begins.
Once it has been broken,
Passionate lovers wither into distant friends...
Then, even that ends.

And only the pain remains.

It burrows deep, deep into your mind.
In crevices that you didn't know exists.
Until that day, someone comes your way
promising love, passion, loyalty, and eternal friendship.
It rears its ugly head while shaking its defiant fists.

Not again.



~Flowriter.