My Every Move

free verse


A gray that consumes me –

A breaking, a snapping, no cracking, no sound –

Pressure within, a boiling point with no spill-over –

A rust on the inside that sheds like a tear –

A burning sensation that has lasted a year. . .


I can’t feel much, but it’s all overwhelming.

It’s less like a swimming and more like a drowning.

Why did I leave? Why did I leave?

Over and over again, I keep asking,

And it’s less like a scream.


Whispers of hatred fill this space.

And all I can do is sit here in silence.

I sweat. I fear. I don’t know why.

I have a sneaking suspicion the Enemy is here,

But that’s it; that’s all. It’s all I can say. . .


If I said anymore, my muscles would ache.

So, I sit. I wait.

And I wait. . .

My mouth may not be moving, but I’ve

Had this conversation ten times.

If I opened my mouth, it’d sound like a whine.


I run. I flee. I can’t get away.

I drink. I smoke. I wear a frown.

But once I get out, I’m still in shell-shock.

Don’t hope. Don’t dream. Don’t trust in a lock.

Maybe someday you’ll see –


Maybe you’ll see why my shoulders slump.

You’ll probably understand why I step away.

You might get why I’ve stopped –

I’ve stopped everything, and yet I don’t drop.

It’s because they’re watching my every move.


free verse

A Capella –

All out on your own;

Harmonic and yet dissonant. . .

An uneven rhythm.

And no one to match it.

A beat.

But no soul behind it.

A voice.

But gibberish despite proof –


Grieving the problems you wished upon yourself.

Alpha’s Journal: Part 8

What am I doing?

And now for the final installment of poetry, written by anonymous Joshua Alpha from Georgia — could be anyone, really:

“What am I doing?

And where am I going?

I bet these questions are asked every day.

I’m doing my best,

And I know my best is worthy.

And I know my worst gets thirsty,

And I give in.

But I’ll keep my faith.

I’ll stay drunk on love.

Just wait.

I can’t wait. . .

But I guess I’ll have to. . .

So I will.

I will.”

There you have it, folks. But in all reality, these posts have taught me quite a bit, mainly that you never really know when you’re going to stumble across someone else’s scribbles. It’s kind of fun to look into the mind of another person, someone you just don’t know.

Alpha’s Journal: Part 7

How can one confuse light for darkness?

Once again, I need to reiterate that this is not my journal, meaning I did not pick up smoking, if anyone happens to stumble across this blog entry. This poem is from a journal that recently and quite mysteriously showed up in my life.


“Every time I smoke I reflect.

The only reflection I see is you.

Mirrors show you what’s behind you,

And I guess I’m stuck in this looking glass.


I exhale with hope and exhale in the present.

Faith is a hell of a burden.

No guarantee, No proof, Just believe.

It’s a hard thing to have unless you can feel it. 

Emotions are physical even when not physically present.

Gift. A blessing and a curse.”


[Boy, this poem is more confusing than anything. Hell does not pertain to faith; Hell has all to do with fear — a twisted faith deriving from all things not of God. And faith does not have anything to with our power, our will, our feelings; they are a gift of grace by God Himself (when we submit our wills to His purpose), and everyone struggles with faith because we cannot manifest it for ourselves, within ourselves.

“Faith comes by hearing, and hearing by the Word of God.”

Again, “There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love.”

We all have some growth to do. But it’s important not to confuse punishment (i.e. fear) with love (i.e. faith).]

Alpha’s Journal: Part 6

Here or there.

Here we go again, another anonymous poem:

“I wish I could say

What I want to say,

But you’d never hear it

When you’re so far away.

So I’ll write and sing

And pray every night

Until the day you

Hear that you’re the songs I write.

Why can’t we be where we want,

Right by each others’ side?

Everyone else seems to have a problem, 

But they’re wrong if they think we’ve kissed

For the last time.

Here or there,

I know you’re my little lady.

I’m not crazy.”

Alpha’s Journal: Part 5

Quick script from a young poet:

And here we have another poem from the leather journal I unknowingly found while checking out the Crack House:

“I never though thought

I’d loose lose love

Once it was truly found.

You let go,

And I fell back to the ground.

I picked myself up

And learned to fly alone.

I swear I’m gonna going to

Make it all on my own.

I’m racing home.”

Alpha’s Journal: Part 4

Love is action; it is not a feeling.

“I was so close to you.

You were so close to me.

Blinded by your light, 

I could barely see,

I’d been in the dark

Just waiting for a match

To light my fuse

And bring me back.

I can’t see a damn thing.

I’ve just been sitting here listening. . .

Wondering. . .

What about True love?

Is it really so hard to find?

Underneath this Georgia Sun,

Yeah, good things come in time.

What about the heartache?

I knew there’d be a price.

Nothing about love’s easy, 

Except the way we feel tonight.


[I guess that answers my questions about the origin of this mysterious journal. Huh, Georgia. Well, Alpha, as usual, I have a few responses: You want to find True Love? Check out 1 John 4:8. There you’ll find that love, in fact, is not a feeling, but it is an act. And in response to your question, it’s really not that hard to find; just pick up the bible on your coffee table.]