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she loves a woman but, she still closes her eyes and bows her head to pray to a god who i always thought would never love me. love thy neighbor but, only if they have the traditional kind of sex.
Blood drips down the hands of the Savior who is filled in body brands He, who died for You Is the one that is stoned until turned black and blue
Small, and hidden among the hills We go to receive the joy Painted white by our own hands Laboring together in industrial joy In the spring, when the Easter is,
There’s a path to the house from the meadow, Leading home from the dark forest’s gloom, Well-worn by the feet of your Father, As He fought, ran, and chased after you.
Dear unknown force that supposedly created the world, You created the world Good job
I dye my hair. I play guitar. I create art. But, hey! I'm more than just a semi-realistic stereotype! I'm part of a choral group. I go to church every Sunday. I love the library.
Jesus, My Captain You have displayed Love Forgiveness and Grace To make me a woman of God. Jesus, My Captain You have given me Family Friends and Community
Today I Lift my eyes to new & exciting ventures. I ventured to say, they all Rock & Win like a cup of potential.Today I win at everything I form & mention.And all goes well as I say, it's just that simple. 'Found this place while I was
We call ourselves Christians In truth, it's just another instance where we fight to not get left behind We actually don't care We sometimes go there as a routine we have to take care
What do the eyes see? Permanent vibrant colors Or chalk drawn images Washed up When the rain comes Dripping onto rooftops Streaming Down walls Perforated edges
Tassels of ebon hair That spilled over your shoulders Like rich coffee With a hint of creme. You smiled at me With those freckles that stood out against your pale skin And those rosy red lips
Some often speak of this hill with pretension Assuming the knowledge of all its heights Others know this as the Mount of Redemption Illumination in the darkest of nights
So many church steeplesSo much crimeSo many hungryThree jobs and no restPreacher says give to meYou will be blessedNo religionJust church
Driving home. Went straight instead of left and ended up at the dock facing that water running under and out from me to the foot of the colossal mountain
To the Church that raised me,
She's shoved, under theseOld archways, while this Preist, whoSpeaks in Forgottentongue, banishes dark demons,From her newly blessed body
Jesus, please guide my way Show me how to live Godly day by day Please show me how to love my friends and family And for all my wrongs, please forgive me You're my Friend, so I’m glad to hold Your Hand
The walk to my curch is somewhat lengthy, but I need the salvation tonight. Six o'clock is fast approaching, urging me to pick up my pace. The fellowship dinner winds up taking 45 minutes
You say you don’t seeYou’ll deny it foreverBut the truth statesThere’s no such thing as “Never”
I wish I could take you from your pain. I wish I could draw you a door So you could open it and leave, But paper doors are as thin as the notion. And we are two paper boats being set alight
Because I love You, I abandon my own glorification Because I love You, I bow myself down in humble submission Because I love You,
There is an empty reality for men in this world. Taking all they had. The pastors, politicians, and bosses. They remove a man's heart. And they don't fill the spot with anything. They just leave it. Empty.
I’ve been here before. I’ve fought this war, but here I am once more. I feel crushed under the weightof it all.Feeling so small. Feeling like my back is against the wall.
1. I saw a tomorrow bright and beautiful; where the lion roared and kept quiet for the purrs of the cat to be heard, And the rich and the poor ate from the same plate,
Young blood spilled on harsh ground Anguished cries of a hurting mother and father A surgeon’s plea for a steady hand as she Questions why a babe was shot tonight
Water fell from my eyes Thoughts of hope actons of needy Crown on my head is the prize Eating every word of God, not reedy Consume my life with your works Baptized in spirit an righteousnss
People don't live that long, That's why some party everyday like Frank came home, And it's hard for them to say that their heart aint yearning to walk up in the church and believe the sermon,
Break the neck of the common man. This world is chaos No man is anyone but his song is a chorus. We sinners we 3 we nails to thee. These wounds to your skin, the story. The story of all mankind.
Good boy. Give them your life. Nothing will be done for you, For no one cares. They take your good nature, And they twist it to labor They use you. You are a strong back with hands and arms.
I heard about someone who discouraged a brother from going to seminary
It’s the third Friday of the month,young people’s night at its liveliest. Fourteen to forty,youths of many ages file into the pews. It’s been a long week, a turbulent month, a trying year.
The lifeless air hung around my neck like an old scarf in the cold. Drowsy eyes of toddlers bundled in layers of coats with their Sunday best underneath, walked sluggishly in the path of their parents.
Seeing people laugh Making people smile These are just some things That make it all worthwhile What's the point of life? The point of life is this: Giving real effort towards
The stained glass sounds like a wind chime as it fallsThat wind, like the choir, brings God back from the dead.Maybe there is still a pew with a wrinkled hymnbook
She’s a high school student and her heart has been ripped apart and now she is looking for a restart But all people do at church is make fun so she’s on the run
Why is it that our Bibles are covered with highlights, notes, and dust, but our minds are filled hatred, lies, and lust? How is it that the churches are full on Sundays, but no one wants to pray on Monday?
Lord, I am a sinner. This I know for certain, Yet I am not actively working towards self betterment. Lord on the rare occasion that I get down on my knees to reach you, Most times I do not know what to say.
There is a sickness in my stomach that was not there yesterday, It is a turning, churning feeling of what was taken from me, And it doesn’t go away. Every time I think of you it burns.
I can live without food, for he nourishes me. I need not any money, for to him I do not owe. I shan’t require a majestic domain, for one already awaits.
The 1963 Birmingham Church bomb <br /> Information found on cnn.com <br /> <br /> The blast went off on Sixteenth Street <br />
A is for adultery and B is for bitches— the Cunts that Don’t know how to keep their legs shut. Egged on by eager men,
A is for a dirty girl, Banished from the Church, a Devil’s child, Excluded because of an unlawful Fuck.
Church is where I was on Sundays
I may appear unbroken and strong... I may appear with power and faith. I may show my love within a song. But my appearance is only a phase. I cry and I weep like humans will do...
It's not Rod Serling's Twilight Zone; that's not it. It's not the Kardashian's reality show; that's not it.
He called them to the sea A boundless tempest raging Those of little faith witnessed it made still Iēsus Nazarēnus, Rēx Iūdaeōrum Made still for the faithful to come Without the storm
1/2 decade back thinking this next year'd be a short one That's When 27 meant lewd poses for crowds of horny nubiles
it's your long, gray braid that i love the most. a wisp of wisdom cascading down your back, never tangled, whispers hymns through all the madness. crumbs of noodles and rice spill from it while you walk,
Walked in shattered, Plastered to pew, shadow black, back row 3 to the right, Looking for immunity in community, Only to find more scrutiny, Black sheep, Cracked heart,
You say you’re religious
THE CHURCH FOR THE MOST PART HAS DRIFTED AWAY FROM ITS MISSION, NO LONGER CONCERNED WITH SAVING THE LOST BUT RATHER WORLDLY RECOGNITION! IT IS NO LONGER CALLED A CHURCH BUT A CHRISTIAN FELLOWSHIP CENTER,
These are my church shoes,
A poem has changed since we were little; “Here is the church, here is the steeple, Open it up...”
Free of her father,
Every Sunday morning
What do you do when there are no words to expressall the thoughts you've barely fathomed into a conscious
He was here before it All and All owes it all to He cause without He All would never be
Time passes by Is it already October? The school year goes on and on And I'm trying not to get left behind. I work hard to finish the work, to have time for games and floor bonding.
I can see right through the fog, The mist that seems to be blinding everyone’s eyes. Don’t fade into the shadows, The shadows of these hallways, Making people fake, hiding like you.
The altar stands merely a few yards away from me.I sit in the middle and look at my son Reeve.To my right are my father,mother and husband.To my left are my son, sister and niece.
Many wish to talk to me about the things I ought to be but understand I fought to be all the things I am right now.
I breathe and live for the word of God. Church is my home and the bible is my foood. I read passages and learn about deaths, pets, and dangerous moves.
Church a place, where you Draw close to the creator. Church a place where you go to get you too eternal. Church a place where you hear the sound of the beautiful drums. Those spares, That piano,
It’s a new year It’s a new season Joyfully, abundantly, graciously Big dreams, big things, the pain and suffering Is back in the day. It’s a new year, Putting on the shield of faith.
I love the way the pages crinkle Crackle when I flip them over. The thin feel of oinion skin (are they really?) So smooth I sometimes run the pads of my fingers Down the page.
I made three phonecalls on a sunday. My parents didn't answer. My best friend didn't answer. I called 911 and she told me to tell the officer when he got to my home. I called for help. My wrists were slit.
It’s Saturday. I wake up to the blaring bellows of my father And the deafening drones of my mother Demanding me to get up. When I hear the church bells Ringing, ringing, ringing, I hasten to put on my favorite aqua dress,
I don’t go to church anymore, there’s no sleep for the restless. I spend my days with a crooked wishbone, the meat still sticking to it, and our shed smells like the gasoline that burned out of me years ago.
He was just a little kid blonde hair, blue eyes playing in the back of the church like usual waiting for mom to say it’s time to go. He doesn’t notice the girl with her short shorts and blue shirt
I knew you were Something special One year Eight months And nine days ago when I first saw your beauty soaring over social norms with gilded wings; You could never touch the ground.
I can hear them shouting. New bow in my hair; Dress pressed nice for church. Mama told me goodbye. I can hear them shouting. The choir is singing; God must be listening. The sun is shining.
It was never my intent to return to this place dark halls of betrayal, and lacking in grace Lustful intentions, like geysers of steam scald memories ‘neath mahogany beams
I wrote this a few years back before my confirmation of my faith. Hope you like it!:
Being in love is like Being on cloud nine is like Lemon drops and gum drops is like Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory is like Every kid’s dream come true is like Disney keeps on inspiring is like
Dear Lord, I've always come to church, Always believed. Yet somewhere, somehow,everything went wrong. All my friends are left behind, The school I once knew is gone,
Speak! Do not be silent anymore! Stop hiding behind the holy doors Stand up! Shout! We have had enough! Let's smooth the rough Stand up!