My Life Through His Eyes

The world we live in.
Is so full of lies.
The bad things we do.
We rationalize.

It's all condemnation.
Instead of conviction.
The truths of the world.
Become our contradictions.

We embrace the bad.
Push away what is good.
We do what we want.
Rather than what we should.

Two wrongs make a right.
Revenge served up cold.
The devil grabs tight.
We can't break his hold.

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poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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The Voice of Truth - A Short Story

"I cannot love her! , yelled the man.
"And why is that? ", the soft voice questioned.
"She will never change. ", the man exclaimed,
"She yells at me, scolds me and does not respect me."
"I can see how you cannot love her.", replied the voice.
The man loosened up. "You understand? ", he asked.
"Of course I understand" the voice confirmed,
"How can you possibly love a woman like that, "
"When you are expecting so much of her? "
Puzzled, the man listened to the voice further.
"You cannot love and expect at the same time.
You can either love her, or expect from her
You see, the purpose of love is to give.
It is my gift to you, to be given to another.
As is her love for you.
You choose who the gift is given to and who it is not.
You cannot expect her to give you her love.
That is a demand.
All you have the ability to do,
Is to give her yours.

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poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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Broken Promises

Just another broken promise.
Your words are really cheap.
You're writing cheques with your mouth.
Your body will not keep.

They say that love is action.
Not simply just a word.
If that's the case, I've never felt.
I've only really heard.

You've said it many many times.
When push it came to shove.
I truly honestly believe.
It's only you, you love.

The times you said, the things you'd do.
But then you would forget.
You would work as hard as you wanted to.
Until you had to sweat.

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poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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Birth of the Warrior

Respect. Sought, yet it is not found, so it cannot be given.
Control. Sought, yet it is not found, so it cannot be obtained.
Power. Sought, yet it is not found, so it cannot be obtained.
Love. Sought, yet it is not found, so it cannot be given.
Joy. Sought, yet it is not found, so it cannot be obtained.
Peace. Sought, yet it is not found, so it cannot be obtained.
Sought from the source external.
Robbing another, and in turn robbing the seeker.
Another protects theirs, as the seeker protects his.
In the quest, it is given away to another, with nothing returned,
The seeker loses themselves.
To put another before self, is to find one self.
Yet, the seeker must protect what is theirs.
Though it must be shared, as it is found for this purpose.
It is that, which is shared, that can never be stolen.
It is the gift.
Not to be given, as one who gives, expects it back.
The gift that is given to one, cannot be shared by many.
The gift must be protected.
For those starving from within, will get a taste,

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poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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The Panhandler

The panhandler sits on the street corner.
He asks me, "Spare some change? "
Like an empty vessel, I walk past him.
I see him as another empty vessel.
Some throw him a dime,
But I treat him as a vapor.
My spirit tugs at me.
My mind says he is a ghost,
But my ghost says he is real.
The currency he needs is my time.
He might be looking for his next fix,
But what will it fix?
Another lost soul, looking to get even more lost.
The root of all evil is planting another seed of discontent.
If my God is money,
Your free time has no value to me.
Anything that is free is void of value,
But time is really my only currency.
I only see the value of my own and not another's.
My account has no statement,

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poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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The Promise

Release you back to God.
It is time to set you free.
The pain of letting you go.
Hoping He’ll return you to back me.

I’ll always be right by your side.
With you or without.
One of us knows, it is very clear.
What true love is all about.

I see you when you walk out the door.
I want to scream “Please come back! ”.
My love for you grows every day.
As your love it fades to black.

You may feel the grass is greener.
You have found somebody new.
But when the trials begin again.
Will your new lover remain tried and true?

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poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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Resentment

I came across a man today,
Who years ago, did me wrong.
Although the time had come to pass,
My resentments were still, so strong.

I looked into this man's green eyes.
As gentle as they were.
The past he left, I could not pass.
My anger inside did stir.

He looked at me, the man he said,
'You look like someone I know.'
I replied to him, 'Yes, I am.'
My anger, I did not show.

I wheeled the man, down the hall,
To a courtyard, at the end.
The man he asked, in a gentle voice,
'Are you one I call friend? '

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poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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The Road To Hell

It’s not that I didn’t love you.
I only knew how to love my way.
My needs, my dreams, my expectations.
The result was my disappointment and my big mess.

If I told you I was wrong and you were right all these years.
Would it make any difference to you?
When the shoe is on the other foot.
You get blisters and blisters hurt.

You can always walk in my footsteps.
I hope you don’t fall where I fell.
Same path, same pitfalls.
I hope your sight is better than mine was.

A painless path to journey down.
It is easy to not see the damage when you are blind to others.
The road before me was a mirror.
My reflection was all I saw.

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poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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Our Marriage Is Our Garden

Our marriage is our garden.
I want our garden to be beautiful.
With lush green grass,
With fragrant and colourful flowers.
A place of solace.
A place of peace.
A place of love.
Our garden must be watered.
Not watered too much.
As that would saturate the ground.
Not watered too little.
As that would leave the plants wilted.
And our grass barren.
But regularly.
So the flowers can stand tall
It must be weeded.
It must be maintained.
It must be loved.
We will plant seeds in our garden.
For new life makes any garden more beautiful and diverse.

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poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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The Lie

Wake up now or you’ll miss the boat.
As you are sleeping, he’s slitting your throat.
His joy is watching your slow painful death.
He cannot wait ‘til your final breath.

He’ll distract you with things, that you know are not right.
He’ll strengthen his grip as he squeezes you tight.
As you lose everything that you once held so dear.
And he’ll fill your heart with hurt, pain and fear.

You’re so blinded as you walk far down Satan’s path.
One day you will fall when you feel the Lord’s wrath.
There’s a price you will pay, once you’ve see what you’ve done.
And you’ll see it wasn’t worth what you once thought was fun.

You seek cold, hard cash, hot sex, and pure greed.
Satan convinces that’s all that you need.
As the money is now, not what’s hard and what’s cold.
It’s your heart and your soul and it’s for what it’s been sold.

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poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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