Saturday, May 16, 2009

God I'm going to have a freaking aneurysm before this is all done and said.

"The Beginning" - Showbread

"The Lamb" - William Blake

Little Lamb, who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee?
Gave thee life, and bid thee feed,
By the stream and o'er the mead;
Gave thee clothing of delight,
Softest clothing, woolly, bright;
Gave thee such a tender voice,
Making all the vales rejoice?
Little Lamb, who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee?

Little Lamb, I'll tell thee,
Little Lamb, I'll tell thee.
He is called by thy name,
For He calls Himself a Lamb.
He is meek, and He is mild;
He became a little child.
I a child, and thou a lamb,
We are called by His name.
Little Lamb, God bless thee!
Little Lamb, God bless thee!

"The Tyger" - William Blake

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare sieze the fire?

And what shoulder, & what art.
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

"The Death" - Showbread

Why?
Why?
I hate this place.
I'm spinning out of control.
Just end this now please.
All of it.

Frequently More

You can send the rain to wash away the dirt, wash away the stains but Jesus could you wash away my pain?

You can send the rain but think of me first and see how I'm drowning.

All day, every day I hear of the pain.
I see it in their eyes
and hear it in their voices.
Could you turn and see,
see the ones in need of You?
You speak of freedom of choice,
the right to be
but God,
what of the pain?
There is no Heaven here,
not even water.
Just wastelands posing as life
trite and with no compassion.

I can't carry my pain any further
and all I do is reap destruction
because of what I've sown.
Good intentions and negligence
are just trite metaphors
seeking to explain why I broke it,
when there is no excuse,
nothing I can do to justify me.
Nothing except You.

There has to be more than this,
more to this life.
Jesus can you take the time,
just a second of your time
to give some peace?
To be near in this storm,
to push past my the rage
and insecurities which flood
and overwhelm my heart.

What little love may remain,
let it flow,
let it burn.
Save me from this overload,
this wretched state.
Please love me.
I hate banks.
I hate money.
I'm so screwed. I can't buy gas or even pay for copays for the hospital.
God I'm so screwed.
Don't know how much longer I can make it...