Becoming a Be

A daily grind, a daily push
Go lower, shovel in, twist and turn
Hurry up, the seasons turn
Dress up, feign the fun,
Fake till you blend,

To be is all that matters.

Theater one or two?
We choose the best to prove.
All actors on stage,
Do till you outdo,
At the end its just a play,

But, among is all you require.

©lifeasChristy

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A weakness

I have a weakness for writers,
They breathe life into words,
Capturing moments, fueling your wants
Leaving you in awe
As you lay, panting for more.

I have a weakness for photographers too,
They make time stand still
And hold a million stories in their frame,
They unveil histories
And give memory a face.

I have a weakness for musicians,
Like the Theoi Mousikoi
They weave their mystical web
Into the very core of you
Leaving you open and undone
As you sway to the rhythm of their enchantment.

I have a weakness for them all.

©lifeasChristy

Once every three months

Once every three months
I feel it’s waves,
Like a flood is in it’s wake;
A tsunami
Wrecking my reasoning
Tossing caution in the wind.
Once every three months
I feel it’s heat,
Like fire and breeze
I bask in it’s Sun.
My senses renew speed,
Colours seem more coloured
As I become antigravity.
Once every three months
I come alive
Like a chandelier I cast light,
I hit the eureka at every turn
I could run a marathon on and on
Once every three months
I fall in love
And i love how the Grammy feels.

Wordsmith

My dear Wordsmith
Break this barrier of silence,
Let your utterance spring life.
Tell me our story,
The future your mind creates,
The mysteries we would unravel,
Lands that would make Columbus marvel.
Tell me about touches;
Touches that untangles answers
And awakens ambers,
Moments that unveils clarity
And dispels obscurity.
My dear Wordsmith,
Put an end to this curse your silence brings.
©LifeasChristy

Bethesda

Father,
Have you seen your child?
She stands stranded on life’s way,
Stumbling with dreams too heavy to lift
As Asclepius hides his face .

Father,
Have you seen your child?
She sits at Hygieia’s gate,
Crutched, crouched and cramping
Hoping to find her home.

Father,
Have you seen your child?
She sits and waits,
Sekhet trails this route they say.
Bethesda,
He who tumbles in lays safe.

                    ©LifeasChristy

GOD’S BRUSH STROKES.

You are,
A painter’s touch
The spring of existence
A sculptor’s hand
The root of creation
A poet’s word
The psalm of David.

You are,
The beauty of a broken branch;
The mockery of perfection.

You are,
The courage in Daniel;
The bravery in David,
The strength of a thousand warriors,
A ray in the rain,
The dance in Jehoshaphat.

You are the reason the sun meets the Earth in an endless horizon.

You are God’s brush strokes.
@LifeasChristy

Start Again.

​We had moments that took to the wind,

We had laughter’s that got lost in the storm,

We had aspirations that sunk beneath the currents

We took to the waves in the wrong direction

We made choices that pushed the shores further away

Now we drown in our doubts as our lungs struggles to hold unto life. 

If we could float up to the surface and just start all over again,

That would make a difference.

Let me write so you can live.

​In time past,the thought has flown

Countless times my mind beholds

What it would feel like to be hit on a road.

Being alone on this route,

It is hard to believe when told

Couples past here since old

And came out whole.

With my heart in pieces

I struggle to breath.

In order to test this theory

I must try to live

But in order to live

I must die through my pen.

I write death away.

I would write till it gets to you,

Let me write

So you can live.

#IWriteAgainstSuicide

#LifeasChristy