Time for Attention

I’m trying to pay better attention to the signs of time
telling me to be patient,
that things will out just fine, so I shouldn’t force it.
When people don’t follow their own words,
or slack off when I’m trying to get things done,
it may be the way it’s supposed to work.

Have to sit back, let it come to me,
stop always trying to be the catalyst of my dreams.
Really nothing but a recipient of God’s favor
moving in the next person’s generosity.

Timing’s everything when racing after something,
having nothing should make waiting easier
but it’s a shot in the gut to watch time fly,
while your heart burns with desire.

Quite a balancing act to be faithful
while not knowing what I prayed for will materialize
into a soft wind coming in at low tide,
bringing gifts from a place I’ve never seen with my eyes,
but been there million tikes in my mind.

Just have to take this map expectantly looking to see a path
reveal that I’ve been going the right way this whole time,
and maybe my cries for help will turn into silence,
evidencing I’ve arrived …. finally.

Free Truth

Truth divides people, allows families to come unhinged
behind rattled cages,
belief plays a major role into why honesty is not possible.
Compromise instead of reproof and correction,
the diluted version is way easier on the stomach,
the more sweet the taste, the more credible.

Saddened by so many who would rather sleep than live,
who would rather be told than to see it for themselves,
leaves me at a loss for words because who really receives anything
I say as something amounting to help?

Can’t blame people for being conditioned to falsehood,
can’t act like I didn’t once play by those rules,
adamantly standing by principles that meant me no good,
spitting in the faces of people that shined a light on my mess.

Welcome mats for people willing to bathe in the same filth,
expecting to be clean,
seeing I carried the dirt of ideologies common to my demographic,
having compassion for those that are without,
knowing how easily it could be me.

The truth divided even me, until I allowed it to fuse me back together,
so now I look for it to set others free.
To be continued…..

Broken Melodies

I carry the broken melodies of songs never heard before,
sulking on this rainy day.
Floating on a cloud of forgotten abuses of time and opportunity,
hoping my determination is more richer in weight.

I dare greater than my closest adversary hosting a faithful few,
picking the brains of people who feel I have no right to this room.
Rifling through the trifling personalities,
hoping to find some clue as to who you are,
and what it may mean for my point of view.

My head shakes from revelation that scars are necessary evils
orchestrating my straightest path, so who is my enemy?
Is the entity that pisses me off only to redevelop
my fortitude to succeed, or is it the person I’ve been waiting
for my whole life to be something they’ll never be,
or God forbid, is the enemy really me?

Thoughts bleed from my mind as the sky gently pours tears
I’ll never shed; even rain has a quality that can’t be measured….
I look deeper into the spectrum of pain and see a song
never played before.
So I guess we all crave something….

Without a Trace

I leave no trace of my presence,
everything disappeared with me,
like vapor the heat carries away,
never seen, thus never appreciated.

I’m the man you miss
while staring out your window to see snow falling,
coming in a thought that drifts you into a daydream
you fight your way out of.

Accepting me is accepting failure,
but you’d rather trade in the obvious
for pipe dreams producing no smoke,
what’s hope to someone that thinks they know
how this road will end?

Why stay among friends whose passions are self-centered,
clashing with the selflessness you bless them with?
Isn’t the message clear enough that strengths I exhibit
are only valuable when you’re dependent upon them?

Helping you while you have the abilities to help me,
but shelving any attempt,
wishing me the best
while I all but begged for your assistance.

Surveying my relationships,
realizing these chapters have come to an end,
I pack lightly and vanish;
be a long time time before my face is seen again.

Maybe when I’m at a sizable distance,
you’ll notice I’m no longer unacknowledged;
I’m a valued substance in someone’s garden.

Flight Risk

I don’t want to run from my purpose,
cause destruction to others from my disobedience,
pause when I am supposed to move,
tossed to and fro like a leaf in the wind.

I want to man up to face fear, appear when needed,
bypass my own feelings for the sake of someone else’s healing.
Attending to the people God sends me as if it’s me
needing hospitality, empathizing for others to understand
how their chosen paths have damaged their feet.

So little of life is meant for me and for a while,
I felt it was my penance.
Constantly afflicted when I was a kid,
so I thought it would be sweeter when I became a man.
When it wasn’t, I wondered if my suffering had an end,
never thought it was building my strength.

Thought my purpose would suck the life out of me
before it fulfilled any hunger,
so many years would pass before I stopped tumbling in fear.
Hoping God would find someone else to carry out His instructions,
before You came looking over here.

At the point of no return, I understand that the only person
that can do what I do is me,
because that’s what God created me for,
and that image has never been clearer.

The only way I’m running is TO Your calling,
because too many lives are at stake,
and I want to help ensure that more don’t perish under the enormous
weight of faithlessness.
Been there many times before…..

December 18, 2022 Redgranite WI

Marshall Jones is a 42 year old man on a lifelong journey of bearing fruit for the Kingdom of God. The author with Jessica Jones of THE PRODIGAL SON, Marshall's Biography includes his almost 21 years life sentence incarceration. THE PRODIGAL SON, just published January 2024, They married November 1, 2022. Marshall is also author of "A RAVEN'S MEAL" (RoseDog Books), a poetry collection, he aspires to target the grey areas and the people who are terribly misunderstood by society. Believing that everyone deserves a voice, he shares his testimony in his books and in their Red Granite Daily Devorionals (800 and counting). He also tries to use his gifting to share other people's experiences as well. Writing from the prison system that has now housed his body for almost 21 years, but also from the place that has been the catalyst to his freedom. As Jessica discovered in 2019, working as an employee in the Wisconsin correctional system, "Marshall lives more freely within the walls of that prison than any other person I’ve met in my life outside". Click on the YouTube Links below for these books and on the 'PUBLISHED WORKS' LINK FOR BOTH.