Poetry From My Life 2

My Flesh My Enemy

My flesh, my enemy—vexation of my soul

The author of accursed lust that keeps me from my goal,

Of unretarded service to the God I long to serve,

Who pulled me from the destiny of Hell that I deserve.

My flesh, my enemy—a cross so hard to bear,

I know I’d serve Him fully if it only wasn’t there.

My spirit hates with perfect hate, the enemy within,

The old man seeking deathly hard to pull me into sin.

My flesh, my enemy—it sometimes hurts so much,

I lose the faith to even claim my Master’s healing touch.

I seem so far away from him—so up against his will,

I lose all peace and get confused until He makes me still.

My flesh, my enemy—my trial and my shame,

It seems I never will be clean to call upon his name.

An even though I know He’s gonna cleanse me by and by,

I know my flesh, My enemy is with me ’til I die.

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The poem below came to me one day as I was out doing street ministry. For whatever reason, I was going through a heavy depressed feeling

that I could not shake and I just didn't feel like talking to anyone about the Lord. So I sat down on the pavement and wrote this poem. Shortly

after I wrote the poem a man came by and I ventured out "Jesus Loves You!" He came over to me and said; "You don't need to tell me about it because I see it written all over your face." The sign I was seeking in the third line of this poem came and it came through this stranger letting me know that even though I was feeling defeated on the inside, the love of Christ still showed up on the outside. Praise the Lord!

Despair

Standing on a corner near a trash can at the square,

Knowing God is with me, and yet feeling he's not there,

Seeking for a sign from him to loose this devil's hold,

Wanting to be in the Spirit where I can be bold.

Silent with this burden having prayed for his relief,

To break the power of Satan, and this unrelenting grief,

Waiting for his answer so my spirit will be free,

To share the message of his love for us on Calvary.

I feel so vague and empty when my spirit's turned away,

So tired and void of feeling in a deathly sort of way,

O' Lord, please come and save me in my hour of despair,