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Kokey Lanay

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Member Since: Jun, 2008

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Featured Book
The Confession of a Paedophile Priest
by James Skivington

An alcoholic journalist, unemployed and with a failed marriage behind him, sets out to track down an Irish priest accused of child abuse in an orphanage...  
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Break through for A break through
by Kokey Lanay
Wednesday, March 03, 2010
Rated "G" by the Author.
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Recent poems by Kokey Lanay
•  Indulgences
•  The Cycle
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           >> View all 5

About findind myself in the midst of the dark.

 

Break through for A break through

I think. I wonder. I’ve been told to dig deep, to break through the surface of my flesh wound, where the blood is deep, where the blood is blue, where oxygen has yet to reach.

 

Break through for A break through.

 

 

Can I do this?

 

 

Can I handle it-the truth that is?

 

Can I really face my own demons?

Those things buried so deep that light has yet to touch?

Break through for A break through.

Why?

Why was I born this way?

My thinking;

Think so deep that human connection is minimum,

Drawn in to the brain, while looks permeate the mind of an illusionist dream.

My heart to pure for the individual to see,

receiving only when a slight imperfection has been revealed.

Flawed.

The flaw they love, picking at it until it’s a visible insecurity growing rampant and I’m consumed in uncertainty, wearing it like a clock for no apparent reason than to humor the world.

I think.

I wonder.

I’ve been told to dig deep, to break through the surface of my flesh wound where the blood is deep, where the blood is blue, where the oxygen has yet to reach.

Break through for A break through.

Can I do this?

Can I handle it?

The truth that is…

Can I really face my own demons, those things buried so deep that light has yet to touch?

Break through for A break through.

Why?

So the words of my heart can be heard and not listened to ?

I scream inside and my soul shakes with rage because no one knows, They talk,

They laugh,

They lie, pretending to know,

pretending to be,

but Paul,

oh Paul,

he knew the agony,

he knew the pain of a newly turned life.

Who?

We are all murder’s,

Killing souls,

Killing dreams,

Killing hearts,

Killing progress with words of recession; weapons of Mass Destruction,

The mind now a vast place of space, where the soul is free to feed upon waste, energizing the sin that is the dust of man kind.

No one knows, but Paul, YES, he learned to be content, his eyes set on a higher goal for Jesus showed him the light.

One can only dream that Jesus will stand before them choosing them.

Picking them up out of their filth.

How humble must one feel,

knowing that JESUS THE SAVIOR OF US ALL, LOVES US REGARDLESS!!

For Our FILTH is that of TIMELESS REPERCUSSIONS, yet OUR FATHER IN HEAVEN deals not in time, but with the Blackness of man’s heart.

Thank God for MY FATHER, MY FRIEND,

THE AUTHOR OF SALVATION who has blessed me with the gift of Authorship.

I think,

I wonder,

I’ve been told to dig deep to break through the surface of my flesh wound, where the blood is deep, where the blood is blue, where the oxygen has yet to reach.

My thinking,

Think so deep that human connection is minimum.

Drawn to the brain while looks permeate the mind of an illusionist dream.

Can I do this?

Can I handle it?

The truth that is…

Face my own demons,

those things buried so deep that light has yet to touch?

Break through for A break through…

I am Flawed… Flawed… Flawed…

But that is why he loves me.

My pain is deep… deep… deep…

But that is why he loves me.

I am hurting… hurting…hurting…

But that is why he loves me.

Deeply Flawed Hurting Pain.

But that is why he loves me…

Break Through

For A BREAK THROUGH

 

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Twenty one courageous and inspirational stories including the story called Running Scared, formerly called COP OUT. Written and edited by Irene Watson and Victor Volkman...  
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