A meeting place.

Where man meets divinity.

In the garden of  his heart.

An exchange.

His life for his.

He abides.

In him.

He is no longer the same man before the meeting.

He arises.

No longer bitter and empty.


With love that surpasses human understanding.

Brought to his knees.

Overwhelmed by the weight of the essence of His being.

A meeting.

That he will encounter day by day.

As he look within.









I proclaim JESUS IS LORD.

I proclaim that HE is the Saviour.

I proclaim that He is the way, truth and life.

I proclaim there is no other way.

I proclaim Jesus is the way.

I proclaim that every knee will bow and confess Jesus is Lord.

I proclaim He is alive.

I proclaim He is the bridegroom.

I proclaim He is coming back to gather His people.

I proclaim Heaven and Earth will pass away but His word will remain.




Break Every Chain

He is free.

Or is he?

He’s enslaved by the words of a man.

Spoken 400 years ago.

He is free.

Or is he?

His mind held captive by the chains of poverty.

And he succumbs to lack.

He is free.

Or is he?

He visits his child once or even maybe twice a year.

As he takes care of another woman’s child.

He is free.

Or is he?

He can’t take the pressure that comes along with his skin.

So he escapes to get a fix.

He is free.

Or is he?

He looks in the mirror.

He sees a man bound by chains.

Not realizing it’s him.



Religious Performer

I grew up in church since I was five years old.

My family attended five out of the seven days of the week.

We were there more than being at our own home.

Church was all I and my family knew.

I knew the church lingo.

I knew to dance when the break in music came.

I knew to shout when everyone else was shouting.

I knew to put on my choir robe and out sing the tenors and altos.

I knew to stare at the woman with the pants suit on.

Or the man with the blue jeans.

I unknowingly was being conditioned.

To put on a performance or show, if you will.

I knew of Jesus, that died, and rose on the third day.

But I was in no way, shape, form or fashion connected to Him.

I did not know He had plans to give me a future and hope.

Because of all the silent chaos going on back at home.

When the door was shut and the lights went out.

The noise from things falling off the walls and police knocking.

Soon faded back into my treasure chest of suppressed memories.

When I got out of the car in the church parking lot.

I knew to put on my face, the religious face.

A face that said, I and my family were alright.

All the while broken and bruised under my Sunday’s Best.






As evil entered the world.

It came to twist the minds.

From the truth.

Onto self.

Onto the world.

Onto deceitful doctrines.

We have been twisted by the lies.

Of ignorance.

Of unbelief.

Of doubt.

Of selfishness.

Of confusion.

Of our past.

Trying to control.

What is controlling us.

As we start to entwine.

The truth.

Then we will begin to unfold.

Who we truly are.


Grave Clothes

I am dressed.

But why I am still wearing these clothes?

The same ole clothes that I was buried in.

Now I live.

But these clothes are strangling me.

Permitting me from living the chosen life.

I constantly rip them off.

Only to find them on again.





A Different World

Children are very creative.

Even as they experience trauma.

They create.

They create their own world.

Or bubble so to speak.

To escape.

From the bee sting of life.

As time passes them by.

They are an adult.

Living in a world within a world.

They created.

They are hard to connect with.

They are hard to get through to.

Because of all the walls they have built.

To keep the sting away.

Not realizing they are stinging others.

Along the way.



All Eyes On Me

I have never been the one to cause attention to myself.

I never liked being the center of attention.

I became use to being hidden from the spotlight.

I was accustomed to people overlooking me.

I faded into the darkness of my soul.

Darkness was all around me.

Suffocating me from the light.

The truth.

I am in despair.

Crying out for help.

As I am bleeding from my yesterday.

I see their eyes as they stare.

I am drowning and they are watching.

They see this woman.

But can’t see the little girl within.




Where is the light in their eyes?

They watch as I look into their darkness.

Oh light!

Where can you be found?

Not within the eyes that stare.




Closet Space

I sit here confined.

In my closet.

Fighting for space.

To make myself at home.

Away from the world.

Away from the confusion.

Away from the lies.

Away from the sadness.

I sit here in darkness.

With light peeking under the door.

Trying to reach me.

As I make room to become uncomfortable comfortable.