Category: writing

Separation

by ekoileman, posted in poetry, writing

I’m trying to be fed by anybody but You

I’m trying to rely on anyone but You. I’m trying–

to rely on anything for You, Jesus.

I don’t know why it feels like my sin hides me from you,

I am not my sin.

You have made me free of it.

But it still clings to me, and it separates–

it tells me it separates You and me.

But that is a lie.

Do I listen to a lie?

Or do I listen to You, my King

run

by ekoileman, posted in poetry, writing

run, run, the damage is done

Babylon comes to stifle our fun.

escape the light to blinding dark.

stumble and flee the coming lark

of pain and gain and misery’s plight.

the salt is bland, the light’s grown dim,

the pounding game begins.

A war of attrition, a slow bleeding out

keep your stand with enemies all around.

Politics shift, Babylon arises—

Again.

An old form returns in the flesh.

/

run run humanity flees,

sin binds and enthralls, keeps me on my knees

the chains keep me raw,

the weight makes me bleed.

stooped and misshapen, I long to awaken.

/

they are comfort and familiar, yes it’s true.

they are comfort and familiar yet I dispize them beyond measure.

the chains weight me down, they rub me raw.

calluses bleed like a toothless maw.

/

the binding is heavy, the weight beyond bareing

stone heart

by ekoileman, posted in poetry, writing

confront the stone and drill right through

hard rubble of calluses

collapse before Him.

Chips fly and sparks fry the air

as compacted heart comes apart.

the new heart transplant can be a

finicky process and the old heart rebellious,

stubborn to die.

/

the Excavator digging through the pain and grief-ite and pride-stone, riddled the old callused heart.

So much pride-stone flecks of green in black, shame stone mirrors that looks endless but lead nowhere, and sparks of delusionite illumination that only blind

the replacement is inevitable and deeply desired,

but painful — none deny it.

But to be of the Excavator’s flock a new heart is needed, required for survival.

the old one will die.

/

so stone flints and flies, freezes and fries.

The drilling and extraction continues.

lemon a busted yellow fruit

by ekoileman, posted in poetry, writing

Lemon lemon a busted sell,

a lied about item of little or no value.

i feel like that. I feel I an a lemon purchased by God.

my feelings preach this relentlessly.

/

I know this needs correction

my mind know this is a lie.

Lemon Lemon a yellow busted fruit,

meandering a jungle

unsure what happens after the next step.

wandering in random directions, drifting to old paths.

/

a worthless item— and yet!

a lemon in required for lemon-aid—most refreshing drink.

The purification operation, intensive and precise.

follow the steps, bear the fruit, be made whole and new

follow the steps, be made new and whole not sour and rotten, follow the steps oh lemon little one.

will not give up

by ekoileman, posted in poetry, writing

I have dealt with spiritual things all my life.

when they know what buttons to push, they push them relentlessly

and hard.

when the buttons they can push are fewer, and you are about to break

free, they push those buttons harder, and relentlessly.

I will not give up. I will not surrender

to my flesh. I will not give up.

I am bought for a price.

I know my value. It is beyond,

what I can conceive.

I will not give up, I will seek

my King.

I will pursue the cross and

the price that was paid for me. I will not give up, though

I fall in the mud and slide back covered

in filth. I learn better the chains that hold me, and I see

better where they are attached.

I will not give up to the process.

I am in the process of being made good I will not end that early.