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.”

THE MORNING ROLLERCOASTER — Full Epic Version

PART I — WAKING INTO THE WAR

I wake in the morning and thank G-D I’m alive,

already bracing my soul for the next hard dive.

This corporal world jerks me side to side,

a rusted-out ego-run carnival ride.

My phone buzzes early like a demon on cue,

whispering, “Bill… there’s trouble for you.”

Bills on the table, the tank’s running dry,

the body groans louder than my morning sigh.

But somewhere inside there’s a flickering grace,

a memory of friends, each heart, each face.

And before the world drags me back into night,

I reach for the Ten — my one source of Light.

---

PART II — THE FALL AND THE FIGHT

Every step forward the ego screams, “Mine!”

poisoning the heart like a cheap boxed wine.

It claws and it argues, it wants to divide,

to throw me off balance on this wild-ass ride.

Carl’s voice in the Zoom cuts through the doubt,

Terry shows up steady even when he’s burnt-out.

Joe Bash brings thunder, Joe Donnelly brings calm,

like two sides of mercy stretched over my palm.

Derick’s fire wakes the room like a spark,

Oscar’s prayers soften the edge of the dark.

Jean carries sweetness that stitches the soul,

while Ilya and Aron make the broken feel whole.

Each one a lifeline the Creator designed,

to drag my heart out of the pit of my mind.

Without them I swear I’d be stripped down and bare,

a man with a body but nobody there.

---

PART III — THE CREATOR’S BLOWTORCH

The day heats up, the trials commence,

every desire pounding the gates of my sense.

My pride wants revenge, my anger wants more,

my lust kicks the hinges clean off the door.

Loneliness hits like a thief with a knife,

cutting through memories of a half-finished life.

The phone rings crooked, the bike needs repair,

and my mind starts breaking like a cheap folding chair.

But then comes the whisper — a razor so kind,

“I’m sculpting your heart from the stone of your mind.”

And suddenly suffering becomes a decree,

a workshop of pain where the soul learns to see.

Every blow that I curse, every trial I fear,

is the Creator refining what I hold dear.

He shatters the shell I keep trying to hide,

till love becomes fear and fear becomes pride.

---

PART IV — THE TEN WHO CARRIES ME HOME

Evening rolls in like a bruised purple sky,

and I drag my heart tired but still willing to try.

The friends gather close as the darkness descends,

and I remember again: we only rise as one — never as men.

We sit in the circle, broken but true,

offering our fragments like morning dew.

Every flaw revealed, every weakness shown,

becomes the seed of a heart we share — not own.

For this is the secret the wise always knew:

the Creator appears in the space between two.

But when ten gather wounded with love on their face,

He tears open heaven and fills up the place.

So I wake in the morning and thank G-D I’m alive,

for the chance to fall again and again and survive.

For the Ten is my compass, my cradle, my guide,

and the Creator Himself is the One on this ride.

And I whisper at night with a heart torn apart:

“Break me again, Lord…

just don’t let me drift from their heart.”

What it Takes to Open a Heart

 “What It Takes to Open a Heart”

What does it take for the heart to know,

that it’s safe to crack wide and finally show,

the friends the storms that tear you apart,

the blood-raw truth of an opening heart?

It takes dying to pride till your knees hit the floor,

letting ego scream while you open the door,

letting them see where you’re broken and torn,

admitting you’re lost, beaten down, and worn.

It takes trusting the Ten with your trembling soul,

handing them pieces you barely control,

letting them hold you when you collapse inside,

revealing the fear you’ve spent years trying to hide.

It takes swallowing shame like a handful of nails,

confessing your failures, your secrets, your fails,

letting their warmth touch the places you choke,

letting their love melt the armor you’ve built from the smoke.

It takes faith in the Creator who carved every scar,

knowing He placed each friend exactly where they are,

so when you open your heart and let all things be,

you’re not falling apart — you’re learning to be free.

When The Tide Break the Heart

 🌑 “When the Tides Break the Heart” 🌑

The tides are rising with every breath within,

they crash through my chest like a long-lost sin.

They come as a test to shred my skin,

to show me where the damn work must begin.

Every thought that stabs is a knife in my lung,

every action exposes how far I’ve swung.

Every desire that crawls from the muck I’ve spun

exists for one reason—

to force us to unite as one.

The ego screams, “Run!” but the heart says, “Bleed.”

The Creator whispers, “Break—this is what you need.”

So the waves keep pounding till my pride is undone,

till I drown in the pain

that welds us as one.

Brother… this path is a war we never outrun.

But the blows are holy,

and the wounds are the sun.

We rise from the wreckage with nothing to shun—

for every tide that crushes us

makes us one.

The Heart knows

When trouble comes the Heart knows

it tries to prepare you for the show.

It lurks in the shadows of the night,

hiding from you the glorious Light.

It keeps you balanced on tippy toes,

showing you how all is your foe.

Bleeding anger, hate, and lust,

until your chest caves in from the thrust.

It shatters because it knows what you need—

to burn out all that lust and greed.

It cracks to pour the poison out,

so love can rise where once was doubt.

It breaks so the Ten can enter in,

so faith can stitch the torn within.

And every fracture, every scar,

is the Creator pulling you back from far.

🔥 “What Enters the Heart — Taste the Break, See the Light” 🔥

(A combined poem of Shamati 34 + Psalm 34,)

I bless the Lord with shattered breath,

Yet faith cuts deeper than any death.

Reason trembles, the body screams,

But the heart remembers all its dreams.

When faith walks in, the ego cries,

It burns the truth behind its lies.

I ran to Him with trembling bones,

He heard my fear in silent groans.

The will-to-receive claws at my chest,

It wants the crown, it wants the rest.

My fears still stalk me through the night,

Yet He lifts me into hidden Light.

One moment strong, the next I fall,

A thousand deaths — I bear them all.

The crushed in spirit? That’s my tribe,

The broken ones who can’t describe.

Reason whispers, “Turn around,”

But faith is a knife without a sound.

The world threw stones to crush my name,

He turned each blow to rising flame.

The heart is marked by holy scars,

Descent and doubt become its bars.

Taste and see — the bitter sweet,

Where His harsh mercy comes to meet.

Every ascent I think I earn,

He tears it down, makes me unlearn.

For through each crack I try to hide,

He enters softly, from inside.

My heart is bruised from years of war,

Yet breaks in love for something more.

The ego screams to take control,

While He hunts down my fractured soul.

The righteous ache — we’re torn apart,

But He draws close to the broken heart.

Faith is a storm that breaks your bones,

Reason turns to dust and stones.

Many afflictions scorch my days,

But He redeems in hidden ways.

He lifts me up, then hides His face,

Till love is forged from my disgrace.

So bless the Lord, you cracked and worn,

You hearts undone, you souls reborn.

For what enters the heart will never depart,

It brands your flesh, rewrites your art.

Faith above reason — the cruelest love —

Breaks you… to build you… from above.

And every scar that love will seal

Becomes the place where truth turns real.

🔥“Taste and See the Break Within Me” — A Psalm 34 Poem🔥

I bless the Lord with shattered breath,

I praise His Name through life and death.

My fears still howl like wolves at night,

Yet He lifts me up into His Light.

I ran to Him with trembling bones,

He heard my cry in all my groans.

The world threw stones to crush my name,

But He turned each blow to rising flame.

The crushed in spirit — that’s my tribe,

The broken ones who can’t describe

Why every fall feels carved in stone,

Yet somehow leads us back to Home.

My heart is bruised from years of war,

It bleeds the truth I can't ignore:

The ego screams to take control,

While He hunts down my scattered soul.

Taste and see — it’s bitter sweet,

His love will break you just to meet

The part of you you try to hide,

The wounded child you left inside.

The righteous ache — we’re torn apart,

But He is close to the broken heart.

He counts each tear we try to swallow,

He lights the path we’re scared to follow.

Many afflictions burn our days,

But He redeems in hidden ways.

He breaks our chains with threads of grace,

He hides His love in every chase.

So bless the Lord, you cracked and worn,

You sons of night, you hearts reborn.

For every scar that love will seal

Becomes the place where truth turns real.