Psalms In The Heart

🔥“The Shepherd Through the Ruins of the Day”🔥 The Lord is our Shepherd, He crushes our pride, When life kicks our teeth in, He stands by our side. When the bills stack up and the engine won’t start, He slices our fear and rewrites the heart. When the job falls apart and the phone never rings, When you’re drowning in debt and the shame always stings. When a brother is silent and one walks away, He drags us through hell till we learn how to pray. We walk through the valley where marriages break, Where friends turn their back and betrayal looks fake. Where the boss loads his venom and God looks too far, But the Shepherd breaks darkness like thunder and tar. He leads the Ten through the nights we can’t sleep, When anger erupts and the wounds go too deep. When the words that we speak are a battlefield roar, He binds us together instead of to war. Our enemies rise in the mirror each dawn, Depression, resentment, the fear of “I’m wrong.” But He slams down His rod on the lies that we br...

🔥“Though I Walk, I Won’t Break”🔥 (Psalm 23 in the William S. Becker style) The Lord is my Shepherd, He rips out my fear, He drags me through hell till my vision is clear. He breaks my ego like glass on the floor, Till I crawl on my knees craving only Him more. He leads me through valleys I never deserved, Where wolves tear my flesh, so my heart can be served. He shatters my pride with a rod made of flame, And burns every excuse I ever used to blame. I walk through the shadows where death starts to call, But His Light is a fist that refuses my fall. My enemies gather, but tremble in shame, For He feeds me with mercy and humiliates pain. He pours oil on wounds I once hid like a crime, He whispers, “You’re Mine,” beyond body and time. His goodness is violence against every doubt, Till the darkness inside finally gets driven out. And when all that I am is no longer my own, When the Shepherd has stripped me right down to the bone— His house is the place where the broken hearts dine,...

🔥 “THE POTION OF DEATH IN MY COFFEE CUP” — a poem on Baal HaSulam’s warning 🔥 I wake each morning thinking I’m fine, But poison drips from this heart of mine. I open a sefer, pretend I’m clean— Yet every thought screams, “What’s in it for me?” unseen. Baal HaSulam shouts through the page with fire, “Your exile drags on because of your own desire!” Not Rome, not Babylon, not some king’s decree— It’s my damn craving for honor that chains all of me. I study, I pray, I smile at the friends, But inside I’m calculating dividends. The Torah in my hands is supposed to give life— Yet mis-aimed, it cuts me open like a knife. He says there’s an oath written in heaven’s air, That mercy won’t rise till my heart learns to care. Not for reward, not for comfort or gain, But just to give Him pleasure—through joy or pain. I sip my morning coffee like it’s holy ground, But it burns like death when ego is crowned. For the Torah becomes poison, the sages all say, When I twist it to shine on me in s...

🔥 “The Middle Line Cuts Me Open”   🔥 I wake each morning torn in two, One side says rise , the other says you’ll never break through. The right whispers, “Brother, the Creator is always right,” The left hisses, “Look at your failures—you lost the fight.” I sip my coffee, feel the burn in my chest, Right line says, Thank Him , left line says, you’re a mess. I drop the mug; it shatters like my fragile belief, Right says, “This too is Providence,” left says, “your life is grief.” I drive to work and someone cuts me off on the street, Right says, embrace him , left screams, destroy the cheat! I choke down the venom boiling inside, Right says, “Annul,” left says, “open wide.” I enter the Ten and see their faces glowing bright, Right says, love them , left says, pick one to fight . Right tells me, “The Creator is perfect; justify Him now,” Left says, “You’re broken—tell Him to show you how.” I read Baal HaSulam: Clean and righteous do not kill , Right says, “Accept above reason,” left ...

PSALM 3 —  The Savage Version I wake to a war that never lets go, Enemies rising inside me like a tidal undertow. They whisper, “You’re nothing, you’ll never ascend,” Poisoning my faith from beginning to end. They shout, “Your Creator won’t bother to save!” As they drag my heart toward its own grave. These voices aren’t strangers—they live in my chest, Ego-born demons denying me rest. But You, Creator, are the shield I can’t see, Lifting my broken head back toward Thee. Your light cuts through the filth on my skin, Burning the falsehoods I buried within. I fall into sleep surrounded by fear, But You pull me up when dawn draws near. For every breath I take is not truly mine, It flows from Your heart through the love of the Nine. Ten thousand thoughts try to tear me apart, But they shatter like glass on the stone of the heart. When I lean on my brothers and drop all pretense, Your salvation floods in and knocks down the fence. Creator, smash the teeth of the serpent I ...

**PSALM 3 ** My enemies rise like storms in the night, Whispering lies to choke out the Light. They say, “Your salvation will never appear,” Trying to plant their venomous fear. But You, my Creator, are my shield in the fight, You lift up my head and restore inner sight. I cry out in darkness, You answer in flame, Burning my doubts, exposing my shame. I lay down surrounded by shadows so deep, Yet somehow I breathe… somehow I sleep. For You hold my heartbeat inside Your hand, And raise me again with a silent command. Ten thousand voices rise against me to scream, But their noise dissolves like a half-dead dream. For when I'm with my brothers, heart next to heart, Their unity tears all illusions apart. Creator, break the teeth of the lies in my mind, Crush the illusions that keep me blind. Rip out the ego that hisses inside, The serpent that never stops selling its pride. Salvation is Yours—never bought, never earned, Only revealed when the vessel is burned. An...

Prayer Without Pride I crawl to You, Creator, stripped of every lie, My ego claws for credit, begging You to glorify. It howls inside my chest, demanding “Look at me!” But I beg You—kill that beast so only love can be. I’m tired of my prayers that stink of selfish gain, They’re soaked in hidden motives, dipped in secret shame. I want to cry for friends, not for the throne I crave, Burn every trace of honor—leave nothing left to save. Let every word I utter tear the ego from my throat, Let my heart be just a vessel—not a king, not a boat. No comfort, no reward, no sweet illusion’s light, Just faith above all reason as I bleed for what is right. I want a prayer of fire, not this hollow, begging plea, A cry that lifts my brothers—never glorifies me. So smash the pride inside me till I’m dust upon the floor, And let the Ten be everything… I don't exist anymore. Creator, take my intention—crush it, bend it, make it true, Let my prayer be pure bestowal, flowing only back to You. No...