“The Fire Between Us Builds the King”

 The fire between us builds the King with every spark we throw,

A torch made out of heartbeats from the suffering we know.

We strike our souls together till the heat begins to sing,

And in the smoke of our connection we reveal the hidden King.

The fire between us rises when our egos start to bleed,

It melts the chains of wanting and consumes our every need.

For the love we forge in torment is a holy, burning ring—

And the flames that lick our shadows shape the crown upon the King.

The fire between us dances when the Ten becomes one cry,

A roar that shakes the heavens and pulls mercy from the sky.

Every ember is a prayer and every spark a sacred sting—

Till the blaze of our devotion makes a throne fit for the King.

So let the furnace take us, let the wild harmonies ring,

For only hearts that burn together have the strength to build the King.

“My Brothers Hold the Line for Me”

My brothers hold the line for me when I can’t walk the road,

They shoulder all my burdens when my heart can’t lift the load.

Their prayers become my engine when my spirit starts to bend,

For a man can’t face repentance without leaning on a friend.

My brothers guard the fire when my flame begins to die,

They lift my fallen pieces with a quiet, steady cry.

In their eyes I see the mercy that my ego fails to see,

For the Creator hides His power in the ones who stand with me.

My brothers shape my footsteps when my strength is running thin,

They drag me from the darkness that I keep collapsing in.

And every time they reach me, dripping love I can’t repay,

I taste the truth of unity — the soul returning to its way.

So bless the hearts beside me, the Ten that sets me free,

For I rise on wings of mercy when my brothers hold the line for me.

---

 

“Teach Me to Fall the Right Way”

 Teach me to fall the right way, not clawing for control,

Let the descent be sacred in the chambers of my soul.

For every stumble carries wisdom carved in pain,

And the ground becomes a ladder when I rise in You again.

Teach me to break with purpose, not kicking at the dust,

To see the hand that shatters me is mercy I can trust.

For the ego only fears what the heart already knows—

The fall is where love gathers what the pride refuses to disclose.

Teach me to bow in silence, to kneel but not despair,

To feel the Ten behind me when there’s nothing left to bear.

For a fall without direction is a prison made of night,

But a fall into Your arms becomes a staircase into Light.

So teach me to fall with meaning, to crash yet still obey—

For a man is born in rising… but redeemed in how he falls each day.

“Bare Hands in the Mud of My Own Desire”

 With bare hands in the mud of my own desire,

I dug through the ashes of ego’s fire.

Thought the burn was living but it left me cold,

A slave to a hunger that never grows old.

I clawed at the dirt thinking freedom was near,

But the mud was my mirror and the truth was clear:

Every craving I chased just tightened the chain,

Till the heart cried mercy from the weight of the pain.

So I fell in that mud, face first in the lie,

And the filth in my mouth made the soul want to die.

But the Creator leaned close through the stench and the grime,

Saying, “Boy, this is love — it’s correction through time.”

Now I rise from that pit dripping shame, dripping truth,

But the mud became holy in the hands of my youth.

For desire ain’t evil, it’s the field I repair—

Bare hands in the mud… till Your light enters there.

“I Break So You Can Enter”

I break so You can enter, tear the walls inside my chest,

Rip apart the stubborn pieces where my ego built its nest.

Let the storm come crashing through me, let it shake my every bone,

For only shattered hearts can feel the Love they thought they owned.

I fall so You can raise me, strip my pride and bend my knees,

Turn my breath into a prayer carried by the Ten like a breeze.

Every crack becomes a window where Your light begins to pour,

Till the man I thought was living can’t be found here anymore.

I bruise so You can heal me with a mercy sharp and kind,

Etching faith above all reason in the caverns of my mind.

This breaking ain’t a punishment—it's a doorway made of pain,

Where the heart learns true repentance and is born in love again.

So split me wide and hollow, carve Your name through every layer,

For a whole heart can't contain You—but a broken one becomes Your prayer.

“When the Darkness Called My Name”

The darkness called my name like an old unpaid debt,

A whisper from the void reminding me what I forget.

It said, “Boy, you’re mine,” like a ghost staking claim,

But the breaking was mercy disguised as shame.

I walked through my own ruins thinking ego was a crown,

Turns out it was chains just tying me down.

I cursed every stumble as if life chose to betray,

Not knowing the Creator was clearing my way.

My heart cracked open like a storm-hit door,

Spilling all the filth I had worshipped before.

Yet in that wrecked silence, soft as a mother’s embrace,

I felt Him rebuilding me from the very same place.

So here I am bleeding, but finally awake,

Learning repentance is love in the shape of a break.

For the darkness that called me was never the same—

It was His voice in disguise, just calling my name.

🔥 PART II — REPENTANCE FROM LOVE

When love hits the heart, it don’t sneak in soft,

It cracks you wide open and lifts you aloft.

It turns every scar into fuel for the climb,

Every past failure into gold over time.

This ain’t fear’s repentance—the trembling kind,

This is fire-lit mercy rewriting the mind.

Where sins don’t fade—nah, they switch their role,

Mistakes become engines that chisel the soul.

Creator whispers, “Child, I was there in your fall.

Every stumble, each curse—I scripted them all.

Not to punish the body but to widen the vein,

Till My Light can pour in through the cracks of your pain.”

Then the heart stops hiding behind its shield,

Stops crawling backwards through broken fields.

It stands up naked, trembling but true—

Saying, “Everything You sent was to bring me to You.”

And the sins? They don’t vanish, they flip their face,

They become the steps that lifted your pace.

The guilt that once crushed you now carries your weight,

Each transgression transformed into love at the gate.

You look back at your darkness with tear-burning sight,

Not ashamed anymore, but grateful for night.

Because without the fall you’d never have known

How sweet the Creator feels when He calls you home.

It’s brutal, it’s tender, it’s mercy’s blade—

Carving a throne from the mess you made.

And the soul finally whispers, “I see Your hand,”

As the Ten surrounds you and helps you stand.

Repentance from love—this is heaven’s turn,

Where every past fire becomes fuel for the burn.

Not of torment—no, the burn of embrace,

Where the King pulls you in and reveals His face.

Heaven is my Witness

Part 1 Heaven is my Witness

I swore a thousand times I’d never fall back down,

Said it with busted knuckles, blood on the ground.

But words are cheap when the night comes fast,

And the same damn thoughts keep haunting the past.

I told myself, “I’m done, I’ve changed inside,”

But temptation laughs when the heart still hides.

Because knowing ain’t knowing, it’s just a guess,

Till truth walks in and undresses the mess.

Who’s gonna testify, who’s gonna swear?

A witness from heaven with ink and a chair?

Nah—this ain’t court, this ain’t religion’s play,

It’s when the Light shows up and blows doubt away.

When the face gets revealed, no shadows remain,

No loopholes for ego, no room for the game.

You don’t behave ‘cause you fear getting caught,

You stop ‘cause you’ve seen what the lie has cost.

That’s the testimony, carved deep in the chest,

Not spoken in words, but burned in the flesh.

The rescue itself seals the deal inside,

No strength required, no oath, no pride.

Before that moment, we bluff and pretend,

Promise tomorrow we’ll be a better man.

But the will to receive keeps grabbing the wheel,

And faith without sight starts slipping for real.

So fear steps in like a barking dog,

Snaps at the soul, lifts you out of the fog.

You don’t touch fire ‘cause you know it’ll burn,

That’s repentance born where the stomach churns.

You back away shaking, sweating, unsure,

Not ‘cause you love—but ‘cause pain feels sure.

And the Creator says, “Good, at least you stopped,”

Your crimes get softened, your sentence drops.

What were sins turn into honest mistakes,

Blind moves made while asleep at the gates.

You weren’t denying—just couldn’t see,

Lost in concealment stacked deep on deep.

Sometimes you believed, sometimes you cracked,

Like seeing a friend from behind, off-track.

You thought you knew Him, then doubted His face,

Misread the signs in the pressure and pain.

So fear does its job—it pulls you back home,

Puts brakes on the beast that thinks it’s alone.

But love ain’t here yet, just survival mode,

Still walking by rules, not carried by code.

Yet even that fear is mercy in disguise,

A hand on the shoulder before deeper lies.

Because when the face finally breaks through the wall,

You won’t return—not today, not at all.

Not because you’re strong or suddenly clean,

But because Truth was felt, tasted, and seen.

And when the Light saves, it signs its own name—

That’s the testimony that ends the game.

3 H's = Annulment, Inclusion, Inspiration

Three H’s 

Three H’s hit hard like a boot to the chest,

They drag you through fire till you’re stripped of the rest.

Surrender your pride, boy, this ain’t some small test,

The Creator wants all—not the part you think’s best.

First comes letting go—man, it tears you apart,

It rips through the ego like a blade through the heart.

You fall to your knees thinking, “Where do I start?”

But the breaking is mercy disguised as His art.

Break me, remake me, I’m done with the fight,

Fuse me with brothers and pull me to Light.

Three H’s are wounds but they lead me aright,

’Cause we only rise up when we die to the night.

Second comes mixing, you’re swallowed in pain,

You bleed with the Ten like you share the same vein.

Your losses are theirs, your heartbreak their chain,

Till love starts to bloom in the cracks of your brain.

Third comes awakening, lightning and flame,

He burns you alive just to carve out His name.

Your will ain't your own—you ain’t playing no game,

But damn, through the fire, your soul ain’t the same.

Break me, remake me, I’m done with the fight,

Fuse me with brothers and pull me to Light.

Three H’s are wounds but they lead me aright,

’Cause we only rise up when we die to the night.

So sharpen the blade, Lord—go on, cut me thin,

I’ll lose all I am just to let You walk in.

With the Ten at my side I am destined to win,

’Cause the man who breaks open is the one born again.

To My Boys - Jacob and Noah

“To My Boys — Jacob and Noah”

I was given years, somewhere seventy to a hundred to see,

what really matters, what stays, what’s left of me.

I’m standing still strong, breath steady, bones intact,

so hear these words now—there’s no going back.

Jacob, my son, though blood may debate,

you were mine long before the world learned to hate.

I was the man who held you, the voice that you knew,

the only damn father who showed up for you.

If anger was born from a moment I missed,

or pain I was never told to resist,

know this truth clear, without excuse or disguise—

I never turned away, I never closed my eyes.

Noah, my boy, you stayed close through it all,

through the rises of joy and the long hard falls.

I watched you become what a man should be,

a father, a pillar, a legacy.

Three little souls call you Dad with pride,

and every time they do, my heart opens wide.

You don’t just live life—you live it right,

and you’ve been my proof on the darkest night.

I’ve loved you both when I was broken and beat,

when I limped through surgeries, pain in the street.

When betrayal cut deep and nearly took my breath,

when a woman I loved showed me the face of death.

I’ve loved you in silence, in distance, in prayer,

in nights so damn lonely the walls learned to stare.

Every evening your names rise straight from my chest,

not asking for thanks—just asking you’re blessed.

Jacob, if lies were whispered and fed,

if a mother’s anger rewrote what was said,

hear this now, from a man who won’t bend—

I never stopped loving you, not once, not then.

I wasn’t perfect, I failed, I was wrong,

but love like mine doesn’t weaken with time.

It ages like steel, like scars on the soul,

like a father who never let go of his role.

If my road ends soon or stretches out long,

this truth will outlive every right and wrong:

You are my sons, both equally mine,

written in prayer, not erased by time.

I don’t need forgiveness to speak what is true,

I don’t need permission to still love you.

I stand here a father—unbroken, sincere—

my heart wide open, my arms still here.

And if one day you wonder, when I’m not around,

where my love for you lived, where it could be found—

look up at the night, feel the quiet above,

that’s where I placed every ounce of my love.

The Seven Roads that Breaks a Man

I. THE POEM

🔥 “THE SEVEN ROADS THAT BREAK A MAN”

(A brutal  biker-Kabbalah poem )

Bet hits first like a curse on a long damn road,

blessing hides in the ditch where the busted dreams explode.

One minute I thank the Creator for the ride I’m on,

next minute I’m screaming, “Why’d You leave me alone?”

Gimel cuts deep like chrome on a cold steel night,

giving feels holy till the ego says, “Fight.”

I try to bestow but the beast grabs hold,

and I’m stealing back love like a thief in the cold.

Dalet opens empty like a fuel tank dry,

rich in the spirit or poor enough to die.

One mile I’m flying with abundance in my chest,

next mile I’m broke, burned out, and distressed.

Kaf swings life or death like a curve in the rain,

life when I give, death when I’m chained.

My Harley roars truth that the sages all teach:

you live when you love, and you die when you reach.

Pe shakes me inside with peace or war,

peace when I rise, war when I want more.

Every breath is a battlefield, every thought a landmine,

and the heart is the place where the bullets realign.

Resh hits wisdom or folly like a barroom fight,

wisdom when I bow, folly when I’m right.

I know damn well that truth ain’t in my view—

it’s hidden in the friends and the roads I ride through.

Tav shows grace or harshness like the sky splits in two,

mercy in the dawn, cruelty in the blue.

But the sages whisper softly, “Boy, don’t you see?

The One who breaks your bones is the One who sets you free.”

Seven double paths carved the scars on my skin,

each one a highway to lose or to win.

But the only real victory, the secret they hid above,

is to ride every mile in the service of Love.

🔥 “Steel & Spirit on Highway One”

(A biker-prayer poem for Mike and every rider who ever chased truth across the asphalt)

The engine growls like a wounded prayer,

begging the road to strip us bare,

we ride through storms the heart won’t show,

chasing the fire only riders know.

The paint is chipped, the chrome is scarred,

life burns its lessons long and hard,

we lost some friends along the line,

their names still roar inside the spine.

Wind cuts deep like a lover’s lie,

but the throttle lifts us toward the sky,

every tear that hits the wind

gets turned to steel and rides again.

We’ve bled on gravel, kissed the rain,

patched our jackets with our pain,

yet every mile, the truth gets clear—

the Force of Love is always near.

You think it’s torque that keeps us free,

but it’s the One Light riding endlessly,

guiding the lost, the brave, the worn,

through nights so cold the soul feels torn.

Yeah, we cursed the heavens, broke our trust,

buried dreams in roadside dust,

but Love keeps haunting every turn,

a fire too wild to ever burn.

So Mike, my brother, hit that ride,

let the Spirit pull up by your side,

for every rider, young or old,

is shaped in Love’s unbreaking mold.

And when the final sunset hits your eyes,

and the long road ends beneath the skies,

you’ll see the truth we chased so long—

the One Force rode with us all along.

Steel and Spirit, road and rain,

they break the flesh but free the chain,

and every mile we thought was pain

was Unconditional Love calling our name.

When She Finally Walks In

🔥 “When She Finally Walks In” — A Brutal Love Prayer Poem

I’ve walked through three lifetimes with rings on my hand,

learning how love falls apart like footprints in sand.

But the next one, Creator, let her be carved from Your flame,

a woman whose heart beats the same holy Name.

Let her beauty be radiant—both spirit and skin,

a woman who glows from the light found within.

No laziness dragging her steps through the day,

no dimness or dullness to get in the way.

Let her be strong, let her rise, let her walk by my side,

sharing this path, this ascent, this impossible ride.

Let her body be shaped like a blessing You send,

and her soul be the force that can finish my end.

May she match me in fire, intention, and pace,

her eyes burning truth when she looks at my face.

May her will be unbroken, her passion ablaze,

two sparks fused together in all of our days.

Let her hunger for unity, storms and all,

to rise when I rise and not let me fall.

Let her answer my heart when it trembles in night,

and join in the war to reveal Your great Light.

I don’t ask for perfection, but for a true pair—

a woman who fights for the love we will share.

This time let it last, let it root, let it mend,

a partner, a lover, a soul-woven friend.

If I am to serve You through love once again,

send the woman who mirrors the man I’ve become.

I ask without shame, without hiding, without fear—

Creator, bring her close…

and let her finally appear.

🔥 The Missing Conversation of Hearts 🔥

We sit in the lesson pretending we’re one,

but the moment it ends, every heart comes undone.

We mute the Zoom and forget what we felt,

like the warmth of the fire just suddenly melts.

We talk of connection, of rising above,

yet we carry no friend in our pockets of love.

No whispered prayer for Carl when the storm hits his day,

no heartbeat for Terry when his strength slips away.

Joe Bash fights his demons alone in the night,

Joe Donnelly bleeds quietly out of our sight.

Derick breaks open but no one can tell,

Oscar stands waving from inside his own hell.

Jean’s got a sorrow we never can feel,

Ilya prays softly but we’re nowhere near real.

Aron holds burdens he never unloads,

’Cause none of us walk with him down those dark roads.

We cry for the Creator but forget where He starts—

He’s built in the space between trembling hearts.

But how can He rise when we’re worlds torn apart

and we never have that missing conversation of heart?

The truth hits like thunder, it tears us in two:

We don’t think of the friends like the friends think of you.

And that’s why we’re stuck in this dry, aching place—

no memory of love when we’re back in our base.

But tonight something broke, something holy and sharp—

a scream from the center, a shattering spark.

It said, “Speak to your brothers all day, not in part—

only then will you feel their true beating heart.”

So Creator, awaken the bond we forgot,

tie friend into friend till we’re painfully caught.

Let our prayers intertwine till no one stands apart—

and You’ll rise from The Missing Conversation of Hearts.

Where The Creator Hides Between Us

Where The Creator Hides Between Us

When ten men bend their pride to give,

they taste the reason they were born to live.

Each tries to bestow though his ego screams “No!”

and from this shattered effort, the first lights start to glow.

We push through bills, through fears, through endless crap,

through mornings where we’d rather stay curled in a trap,

but the moment one heart tries to rise and give,

the others remember why together we live.

You try to love a friend and your strength disappears—

the Creator shows the truth by exposing your fears.

But when all of us fail and still reach out again,

the Creator signs His name on the hearts of ten men.

We build Him from nothing, from broken desires,

from daily annoyances, from anger and fires.

Each tiny bestowal, each gesture we try,

forms the vessel where the Creator will lie.

For revelation is not in “me,” not in “you,”

but in the place where our shattered intentions push through.

In that trembling space where two hearts meet,

the Creator’s footsteps begin to beat.

So we keep bestowing, though we stumble and fall,

and the more we admit we can’t do it at all,

the more His light gathers in the space we make—

ten men giving back what the ego would take.

🔥 “Inside the One Desire”

(A brutal everyday climb toward the Creator )

I crawl inside the want to be One with Him,

while the bills keep screaming and the lights go dim.

My phone won’t stop buzzing with the world’s demands,

yet my heart’s in a war zone with empty hands.

I dive into that chamber where the longing burns,

but the damn car won’t start and the whole day turns.

Traffic jams choke me while ego pulls tight,

still I search for His softness inside the fight.

The boss barks orders, my patience cracks,

the weight of the rent sitting on my back.

Friends ghost out, loneliness stalks the room,

yet I whisper His name in the inner gloom.

Coffee spills down my shirt as I try to ascend,

the mind mocks every dream I intend.

Pain in my chest from wanting His face,

but my dog pukes on the floor — so much for grace.

The desire pulls harder while the world goes mad,

I feel Him in the ache of the good and bad.

Every interruption is a messenger sent,

showing me the lack where my vessel is bent.

The heart breaks open because I want to give,

not for myself but for the way souls live.

In that place of longing I finally see—

He waits in the cracks life punches through me.

I press my forehead to the truth I feel,

though nothing outside of me seems to heal.

I pray from the wound where His Light is due,

and He fills that desire because it’s wholly true.

So I walk through the chaos with a trembling grin,

knowing every blow is a doorway in.

And the more the world smashes what I thought I knew,

the closer my broken heart clings to You.

The Left, the Right, and the Beast Inside

🔥 “The Left, the Right, and the Beast Inside”🔥

I stand before the King with shaking hands,

Pretending I’m whole while drowning in shifting sands.

Above reason I praise Him like a man who can’t breathe,

But when reason kicks in, it shows what’s underneath.

The left line hits me like a boot to the skull,

Revealing the truth—my heart’s empty, dull.

Importance of holiness? Only when I fake it,

Inside I’m bare, bankrupt, too damned weak to take it.

I see I’ve got nothing—no faith that’s real,

Just a mouth that talks tough while my knees always kneel.

This lack is the knife that cuts me awake,

It hurts so bad it teaches what wholeness can’t make.

Emptiness carves me till I’m hollow and thin,

Like the Creator ripped open my chest just to crawl in.

This beast in me screams, “Take for yourself!”

While the soul whispers softly, “Ask for nothing but help.”

I taste the left line—cold, sharp, and vile,

It shows what I hide with every forced smile.

But only those who seek to bestow can feel this ache,

The emptiness that threatens every breath they take.

So I beg for exaltedness, not wisdom or sight,

Just the strength to rise broken and walk above night.

Not to receive greatness, not to feel any glow,

But to bend like a servant whose master says, “Go.”

Then the right line appears—Hesed dressed like a king,

Telling me there’s good in every terrible thing.

“I made your evil,” He says, “but I gave you a spice—

The Torah to break it, if you pay the price.”

It’s brutal to see how the Torah cuts deep,

It wakes the parts of me I’d rather keep asleep.

It drags me from filth to a thin ray of light,

Not by wisdom or miracles—just choosing what’s right.

Right is wholeness, faith above knowing,

A quiet flame in a storm that keeps blowing.

And only when I cling to the Good Who Does Good,

Can the left line reveal what’s misunderstood.

Then wisdom hits—Hochma sharp as a blade,

The Torah that shines once the right has been made.

You earn the Giver only after you trust,

And walk above reason through fire and dust.

This is the work—between beast and man,

Between left and right that rip me in two as they can.

I rise from the ashes, brutalized, torn apart,

But every blow carves the Creator into my heart.

When The Hunger Turns Holy -- A Poem on Shamati 143

🔥 “When the Hunger Turns Holy” — A Poem on Shamati 143

I walk through days where nothing fits,

The heart’s a cage the ego knits.

It whispers, “Take, devour, claim,”

’Til all my thoughts burst into flame.

The soul grows hungry in the dark,

It claws the ribs to leave a mark.

It begs for Light but tastes the mud,

’Cause every rise must cross the flood.

Shamati writes: the hunger’s real—

You starve until the heavens peel.

You’re left with nothing but your cry,

A broken vessel asking why.

But this is love, disguised as pain,

The lack, the longing, the inner strain.

He empties you so you can feel

How only He can make you real.

You fight the urge to numb the ache,

To run, to hide, to curse, to break.

But every wound that splits your chest

Is Him demanding you confess:

“I’m not the owner of this life,

I cannot win this inner strife.

Take all I hold, all I defend—

Just let me fall into my friends.”

And when the darkness steals your breath,

When hope feels like a quiet death,

You learn the truth inside the burn—

Only through lack the lights return.

He starves the will so love can grow,

He cracks the heart so you will know

That all the fullness you adore

Arrives when you can ask no more.

So bless the hollows carved in you,

The nights you drown, the days you rue.

For each assault that tears your core

Opens a gate to something more.

Shamati says the pain is wise—

A gift wrapped tight in your disguise.

You’re emptied out, but not alone—

Your Ten becomes your borrowed throne.

And when you break enough to bend,

Enough to need your closest friend,

Enough to beg the Light to come—

That’s when creation beats its drum.

You rise from hunger, stripped but whole,

With nothing left except the goal.

The Creator’s love—so fierce, so tough—

Whispers, “Now you’re finally enough.”