How Unfortunate.

It would seem that no one is really reading my blog... Of course, it is still relatively new and discovery and loyalty is things that generally take a while for a blog to obtain. All the same, it makes me a tad bit sad. I don't just want to put my words out there, I want to share them with people. I want to give them and have them be received, not fallen through fingers that do not exist and stepped on by feet that have not even wandered here... Ah, but is this not the poetic struggle? Is this not the plight of the writer? Even though no one is reading, I won't stop writing. I can't. Words are life. And for my sake, I need to keep breathing. 

I Walk Through the Valley

It seems like every step I take
Is a step away from you
And it's true
I chase after the things that only seem to break me
Ignoring the One who created me
Because I lost faith that He could save me
Not because He's powerless or heartless
But because I'm stubborn
And I much prefer the burn of the world
Instead of the love of the Lord
And even though I'm dying
I pretend that I'm living
I drink
I smoke
I party
I joke
Anything to keep the demons at bay
Yet I walk in the darkness
Forgetting that this is they love to play

Coming Home, Broken Pieces and All

My pieces are broken and tattered
But you call my name still
Ashamed and embarrassed by my filth
I turn my face from you
But you, God, pull gently at my heart
You remind me that I was created in your image
And tell me that I am beautiful
But my sin blinds me from my worth
And I find it difficult to believe
That the God of the universe could love me
Scum of the earth
And yet still
You pursue me as if I mean the world to you
And maybe I do
Because you fought the world for me
And you, God, sent Christ to die for me
And he did it so selflessly
And just as you raised him from death's clenches
You too have promised to raise me
My legs are weak
But here I do not need to stand
At the cross, I lay myself down
If to die is to live, then kill me now
Because I've walked alone
And I'm ready to come home

Words from Martine

"I want someone to read these words and understand me. For just one second so I'm not alone with my thoughts"

- Christy Ann Martine

the Uglies

Recently, someone made a comment about my poetry. It's a little dark, she said. I would have to agree. It is a little dark. Sometimes even painful and uncomfortable. It makes you think about things you rather not and occassionally, it beckons the demons we try so hard to surpress. So why do I write this dark stuff? Because it's my way of confronting the Uglies. If I don't call them out, they'll always be there, lurking in the shadows of my heart and mind. Now, just so you know, not everything I write is dark and depressing. Stick around and you might just see something positive and uplifting real soon. Or not. I am a slave to the pen, afterall, and there is never a guarantee of where the strokes may lead.