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Krissy Mosley Ministries

  • Humans

    June 23rd, 2015

    Hope is

    but a mere

    faithful

    friend

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  • Piece of Joy Haiku

    May 19th, 2015

    Morning Breeze

    brings me

    Happiness

    I have taken a small blogging break. It feels good in this space. Still loving life and dancing to the wind.I’m not quite sure when I’ll blog daily. After-all the wind is magical landing in my ear. Whispering to me write,dance and sing, This is me, doing my weekly Poetry…(all rights reserved2015)

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  • About Me: `Kindness Sister`

    April 22nd, 2015

    Welcome to my page:

    I come from a long line of women. I was raised, partially in San Antonio TX. The latter teen yrs onward in Philadelphia PA. I not only observed but also engaged in the daily bread-winning process in my family. My mother and her three kids: picked cans, served at church, washed our clothes in the bathtub saying our prayers like mantras toward a mellow-yellow sky.

    Growing up, I could not wait to be on my own. Thinking that I’d make better choices than my mother. The days and years turned, like pages of fire,  burning strong. The test of times against my skin.

    The most unforgettable moment as a child was my mother coming to my basketball practice to pick me up early due to the pouring rain. We didn’t have a car at this time. So she used what she had.

    There she was, my mother, soaking wet on her “ten-speed bike.” She told the coach “yeah I’m here to get  Krissy,  so she doesn’t walk home in the rain.” The coach looked in shock like a deer in headlights.

    Coach: Krissy, your mom’s here.

    I could hear the laughter from the other girls as I rode away with my mother in the rain on the only source of a vehicle at the time.

    Stars, moons, and suns later, I went to college. To better myself. Taking out school loans like any other youngster without an inheritance. It was my sophomore and junior years that challenged my faith and commitment. I was diagnosed was rare allergic environmental eczema which made my skin irritated, itchy, swollen all over, unable to attend class regularly and taking cortisone steroid shots.

    Needless to say, I got well. I pulled my grades up and graduated. I  journeyed on, like a lioness crossing the Sahara desert. I got married and changed jobs like the weather- wearing jeans on a cloudy day.

    My motto: I’m not dead yet!

    Thanks for following me~your Kindness sister Krissy Mosley

     

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  • When I was six Day 11)Napowrimo

    April 12th, 2015

    Reboot me-back to happy

    where sunshine grows on trees

    and the people are missing teeth

    dialing rhythms

    connecting my journey far beyond suffering

    thats where I wanna be…

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  • A fine Paper-Bag Day(7)Napowrimo

    April 8th, 2015

    Just like that

    brown paper bag,

    her ninnies began to sag.

    But it didn’t make her feel

    bad to have holes in both her pockets.

    Neither did she feel poor,

    just rubbing two nickels together,

    waiting for her next out-pour.

    Dancing drops in summer’s drought,

    not that she had any doubt

    that her girth, had given supple-supply

    for every one of her babies.

    And just like that,

    Baby!

    We’d be,

    just fine.

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  • Still Alive Day (5) Napowrimo

    April 5th, 2015

    No greater Gulf between hell and I

    Perhaps the rupturing twilight

    could speak

    For I never saw a man with holes in both hands and still be alive

    Betrayed for pennies of  fear

    Ah-that Christ must die

    watching the dust

    settle,  under seeds that

    refuse to do any thinking of growing

    For I never saw a man on fire and not be turned to ash

    weakened by devicely

    pleasures,

    the serpents’ crawl

    bitten with just one kiss

    I pray to understand

    these wages of sin has given dollars of death that do not spend

    Upheaving Justice, that suppose our souls, wern’t worth the saving!

    Here I am -again,

    if we can’t overcome

    and we can’t ever overstand,

    Then what’s a man gotta do to get a little water his thirst!

    For I never saw a man whose only kingdom was the cross

    Some men have it all, some are lost,

    some earn their freedom, and others shout crucify ,crucify

    For I never saw a man,forgive like this

    Filtered and pushing into the dark abyss

    Great drops of blood ,

    if only this, cup could pass, then earth would shake with witnesses beyond the mass

    No greater gulf between Hell and I

    For I never saw a man with holes in both his hands and still be alive…

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  • This ain’t it. Day 4 (Napowrimo)

    April 4th, 2015

    This ain’t it.

    She swallowed a little more,

    Slightly drowning in Mississippi’s River bed

    it should of been holy

    it should of rocked her to sleep

    it should of taste like honey,

    but now it was just sadly unpleasant

    Pumping her legs further into the deep.

    Salty-night came calling.

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  • Soup of Love Day (3) Napowrimo

    April 4th, 2015

    napofeature2She wore her cotton purpled sash squares through each yard.

    For I never saw a mother with such a discerning eye.

    While the day withered from sunshine to bitter night.

     

    For I never saw a mother feed the dead.

    In her kitchen with each tool and recipe,

    sweeping rounded pipes of potted meat

     

    For I never  saw a mother with such a piercing look

    tumbling in and out of oven-soot.

     

    Her humbled feet grounded by the gardens leaves,

    just to sing a mumbled tune.

    Ah- if that mother’s son could only breathe

    For I never saw a mother feed the dead,

    with such a discerning eye.

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  • Day (1) Sunrise (Napowrimo

    April 2nd, 2015
    Perhaps the day never breaks,
    and night remained king,
    Surely we’d scurry about,
    in twilight hoping
    But suppose our souls wern’t worth saving,
    Ah-then
    Sunrise,
    would be everything

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  • Never Offer Your Heart to Someone Who Eats Hearts

    April 1st, 2015

    In Honor of National Poetry Month before -the writers Burst into writing with first sign of ink ,I thought of Alice Walker 

    by Alice Walker:

    Never offer your heart
    to someone who eats hearts
    who finds heartmeat
    delicious
    but not rare
    who sucks the juices
    drop by drop
    and bloody-chinned
    grins
    like a God.

    Never offer your heart
    to a heart gravy lover.
    Your stewed, overseasoned
    heart consumed
    he will sop up your grief
    with bread
    and send it shuttling
    from side to side
    in his mouth
    like bubblegum.

    If you find yourself
    in love
    with a person
    who eats hearts
    these things
    you must do.

    Freeze your heart
    immediately.
    Let him—next time
    he examines your chest—
    find your heart cold
    flinty and unappetizing.

    Refrain from kissing
    lest he in revenge
    dampen the spark
    in your soul.

    Now,
    sail away to Africa
    where holy women
    await you
    on the shore—
    long having practiced the art
    of replacing hearts
    with God and Song.

    by Alice Walker

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