Garbage In, Garbage Out
Thank
You- for this chance to step outside
It’s
getting too crowded in my mind;
This
mind consumed with imagery- flashes
Thoughts;
fantasy- an open box of matches
To
light a flame I know so well I cannot yet contain
Dear
God, what I wouldn’t give to make that choice again.
If I
could have seen it as standing over my grave begging for a shovel,
I might
not have said yes to that first romance novel
Or the
hundreds after that-
I
wouldn’t be suffering the aftermath
Of
those beats and lyrics
And
music video gimmicks:
Beguiling
visuals, sexy songs
Chiselled
chests, kisses, thongs
And the
sex I watched on silver screens
Long
before I understood what it even means.
True;
in the first place, it shouldn’t be televised
But
what if I had done the right thing and averted my eyes?
No
choice but to redirect the accusing finger
Cuz I’m
still watching those scenes I know will linger
And I
should know better now I’m older
Instead,
it’s becoming the excuse:
“I can
handle it; I’m an adult”
So in
the name of maturity, I reduce
My
precious mind to a den of filthy thoughts.
What am I becoming?
The
tell-tale signs point to a bad omen
But I
don’t want these seeds to sprout into trees
I don’t
want these tares among my wheat
I don’t
want to reap these poisonous weeds
I don’t
want to grow the filth I breed
But
what else to expect if I regard
My very
soul as a junkyard?
Garbage
in, garbage out
It’s
not so surprising what I think about.
I
shouldn’t be shocked how badly I’ve scarred
From
years of letting down my guard.
Just
like the food I eat enters my bloodstream
My
thoughts affect my entire being;
So I
shouldn’t be complacent
When
selecting my entertainment.
I
shouldn’t be ruled by my preference
For
sexual permissiveness and violence
Or
controlled by my proclivity
For eye
candy and vanity.
I
shouldn’t be amused
When
profanity is infused
Or when
my God is abused
And His
name is misused.
The 3rd
commandment isn’t breaking news
Yet “Oh
my God!” seems to be every scriptwriter’s muse.
I hear
it, but I keep watching; pretending I’m obtuse
Before
I know it, I’m using swear words to express my views.
A slippery slope
A noose on rope
I’m
housing a tiger I cannot tame;
Choice
after choice, I play this game:
Russian
Roulette
I
blindfold my conscience and pretend to forget
Every
bullet from this gun will hit the target;
Leave
me a little less alive, with a little more regret
I can’t
keep feeding myself this dirt.
Dear
God, I’m fed up with wanting and wishing
Before
You, I make this massive decision:
To
guard my heart and protect my thoughts
To be
faithful with what I read, listen to and watch
To
throw myself into becoming the person You design
And not
slow You down while You renew my mind.
I
submit my interests, hobbies and tastes:
Keep
what You please; the rest is waste.
What
You despise, I’ll learn to hate.
You
call the shots, I co-operate.
And
God, when my resolve is weak,
Please
strengthen my unsteady feet
And
should I compromise or slip,
Help me
not run back to Egypt.
Teach
me to seek You in the trough
And be
still while You cleanse me of
My sin;
and hidden things that lurk within:
Bring
them to light
And
help me discern truth even through these tainted eyes.
I no
longer stand in condemnation
Thank
You for making me a new creation.
Thank
You for restoration
And thank
You for honest conversation.
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