My Love

I wait for you my love
I long to hear your voice
I wait for you my love
I have no other choice

I dream of you often my love
I try my hardest not to wake
Please come soon my love
How much more shall I take

They told me you were coming my love
Did they lie to me again
Tell me the honest truth my love
When will the waiting end

I long for you to hold me my love
The loneliness is hard to bear
I need you here with me my love
My love for you I must share

Noise

For years we have been taught that the real meat of the song is the words. "It's not how it sounds, but what they are saying," they would say. I beg to differ. Forget about the words. Listen to the music. Music is like flowing water that moves you from place to place. The words are mere noise, pages of someone else's book. "Shh", I say, "I am trying to write my own story." Suddenly, the music begins to talk to me, telling me of my pain, going deeper and deeper with no remorse - Therapy for lack of a better word.

Poison

Low Self-Esteem is like poison
that's eats away at the lining of your self-concept
soon all that is left is a tattered self-image fit for nothing
Then the question becomes, "How can I love another if I can't love me?"
and just like that, even possibilities
become fading fantasies.

- ashe

Mr. Possibilty

I haven't posted anything in a while. My apologies to you all. Life just gets so busy sometimes. I need to really practice coming up for air more often. My mind has been writing constantly, but my pen hasn't caught up just yet, but hopefully that will change. Right now I feel like I am sitting down at a piano, getting ready to play the song of my thoughts. Hold on let me find my key. My first key is...

"Mr. Possibility"

It's been a while since a beau has caught my eye
and actually think about the possibilty of a
You and I.
I met you on a Tuesday not knowing
that by the next, next Thursday
I'd be inwardly smiling
Don't get your hopes up Mr. Possiblity
All we've said is Hello
but maybe, just maybe
there will be more

"My Conductor"

Notes to be played, sounds to be made
The faceless conductor conducts the composition of my life.
Every drum, every string,
Every horn, even the triangle’s ring
He plays them altogether perfectly.

This composition is perfect in itself
Because He’s perfect all by himself
And He knows how everything else
Should line up on the bass and treble clef.

He knows when to cue in an A sharp
When to silence a B flat
When the drums should roll indefinitely
And when the horns should take a rest.

This composition is my life
Each instrument representing
A person, place, or thing
Playing
A role that is much bigger than perceived.
Understanding that it is the conductor
That decides which instrument
Should lead.

He knows the exact harmony the composition
Is going to portray
And at any given staff
Some instruments will not even get to play.

The composition is too important
For it has been fearfully and wonderfully made.
My only choice is to let the Conductor conduct
Instead of relying on luck not promised.

My standing ovation is for You My Conductor.

-Ashe
8/11/05

My Nail

My Nail

I carry my nail in right hand
Reminding me of He who died for me
39 lashes cutting his flesh
all so I could receive His best
Nails in His hands and his feet
all so defeat would be a word I couldn’t speak
a crown of thorns on his head
laid on a splintered cross instead of a hospital bed
His bloodshed…
How can anyone have a problem doing what He said?

I carry my nail in right hand
Symbolizing my trip to Calvary
Constantly reminding me
of the price He paid
for the mistakes I made,
the many times I disobeyed,
trying to bury my sin
which He already forgave.

I carry my nail in my right hand
Symbolizing the new me
Free to carry out His commands
Free to say Yes I’ll go
Free to join His army
Free to give up my God-given No.

I hold my nail in my right hand
Because I now have no choice
He has freed me for His service
And I clearly hear His voice
He says Go get My people
Go forth in My name
The Kingdom of God is hand
Time out for the religious game.