the rest is me. sometimes we need examples of who not to be and what not to do.
some people channel such BULLSHIT through their lives.
so… that got me to the following:
Joanne has cancer. I spend almost every minute of the day willing her to be healed. I would take every ounce of strength I have and infuse her with it. I would give her every last drop of blood and white blood cells I can generate. I would carry her to the top of the mountain if I thought God could hear me more clearly.
this morning I ventured out to Starbucks in my Jeep. I often do annoying things that might include singing country songs at the top of my voice out of key, pray, play music loud (my current favorite to the horror of my neighborhood) is, What It’s Like (not a country song) by Everlast, from the Whitey Ford Sings the Blues album. it fits nicely with an open-air Jeep Wrangler (in Milton, Georgia this is the new Porsche).
a prayer popped into my head. then I realized it was a poem. then thought it might be a prayer. but, $@&% it… I meant it.
I love God He keeps me on my feet I love God He does not know the meaning of defeat I love God He keeps me on my toes I love God he is the architect of my woes I love God He makes me strong I love God He confuses my understanding of luck and fortuna I love God I beg him to make Jo well Soona (that was me rollin a bit ghetto).
so… what if poems are a form of prayer? does that mean stupid poems possess the potential to piss off God? if it makes me feel better, I think that’s a good sign.
…this reminds me… I wish Brandon, the creator and curator of Human of New York, would offer a method other than TUMBLR to share his own efforts. I wonder if he hears me?
peace be to my Brothers and Sisters.
brian patrick cork