Friday, March 30, 2012



Jesus, it was a hard day
not meaning to use your name in vain 
rather calling on you to hear me

Jesus, I know I am flawed
I could do things better
I am calling on you to hear me

Jesus, it is so damned hard
forgive my cussing
I am flailing at heaven


  1. I remember having written a poem about 'cussing.' This poem isn't about cussing, but it has the same flavor. Sometimes flailing is very justified.

  2. This one strikes at my heart, cold and true. I call out, too, in my times of despair and have flailed at the heavens so this really hits home.