‘OLD IS A THEIF’ was posted but for only a few hours late in the evening of the 13th of May, ‘OLD IS A THEIF’ was the title. Then I went to bed. I woke with detested thoughts of what I had written and put in on my blog. In the beginning this blog thing was to be a repository for my journaling, self help and legacy to my son who may or may not in the future care to know these things about me, this inner me. Of course for that to happen, he would have to turn off the TV, but that’s for another blog somewhere someday.
Others have said much more eloquently than I, but I must agree, this blog thing has grown into something else again. It was never meant to be a place for me to air my dirty laundry, and this morning, what I posted last night seemed to be just that. My fight is with depression, and there are many of us in this war. There is no discrimination to the dark’s design.
Anyway, I feel I need to post OLD IS A THEIF now because of the Word, because God (if I may be so bold) didn’t want my creativity to be wasted. I don’t believe he wants me to support and promote ‘loss’, even though last night, a battle was lost. Today, the war is not over, however, today reinforcements arrived:
This may, or may not work, this effort this morning to thwart the machinations of deception and untruth I went to bed with last night. AGAIN! I’m only doing my best to fight the damness of depression. You may care not to read on and if that’s the case, I will still fight on, for both of us:
OLD IS A THEIF: May 13, about 11pm, or so
I’m damned to die to reoccurring dreams
daymares of hollowness
like a swamp dead tree where
the stink of decay permeates the air
and clings to the skin
Oh Lord, why am I here again?
You are here Scripture says
but here am I in a soul locked prison
sentenced to self with
headaches and body pains,
is there but one way of escape?
Is it my self that’s killing me,
my inability to surrender beyond
our Sunday go to Meeting
or morning bible reading the truth
that dissipates like like stem from boiling sea.
I am tired of sick of sick and tired
that over used recovery chant
I’ve heard it
and said it so much I could scream
Am I demon possessed by the catch all phrase
‘depression’, ‘lethargic,’ ‘despondent?’
on a scale of 1 to 5 Mr. What’syourname,
how much are you not alive!!
So I paint so morose a scene
when as a believer I should be in joy,
in a relationship with a King
but I am separated, expelled of a sort
and I’m loosing my ability to cling
This mess like all the rest I pen
is me feeling sorry for me again
She asks if it’s her,
why I can’t be happy
she asks over and over again
I try to explain
I don’t know where happy begins
Of a sudden my mine hears a song I wrote
wrote and save’d to do something with someday
is this is the someday?
if it is…….
it ain’t what I thought it would be back then:
Old is a thief
I can’t sing like I once did
Don’t have the highs of a kid
Blind to dreams I could once see
Old you’ve stolen it from me
Old you are a thief
Now I look out through my window
Comes another season for change
I don’t answer the call no more
I’d choose stay out of the rain
I’d rather stay outside of the game
What’s old blues to do?
Feel like I’m loosing her too
Baby looks at me with tears
No love, no where, no cares
I hear the melody beyond me
my heart breaks like glass from the pain
The songs I loved I can’t sing
They belong to yesterday
Still there is a due to pay
What do I do now with this life now
Where do I go to find peace
Out of time, silently out of my mind
the door is closing on me
Old you’ve stolen all from me
Old you are a thief
no, just another chapter to be
placed in the category DEPRESSED!