Quiet My Addiction

by Mark Phillips

("Therefore my people go into captivity for lack of knowledge." Isaiah 5:13)

Pat me on the back, it's my addiction.
Play the music rowdy, get me to the next dance,
Trumpet my endeavors, shake my hand boldly,
Write me up, talk me up,
Wear me down with your attention:
It's my addiction.

Popularity's the party I crash,
Where I toss down shot after shot of compliment
Cocktails.
I drink acceptance of me (or my agenda).
Fill me up, Dixie cup,
Champagne cup, pour it down,
Hearty laughter and boisterous façade:
It's my addiction.

But once the front door closes and the
Porch light's dark I sink into seclusion
With my hangover head between my hands.
I cannot stand
The solitude.

One moment of silence and I'm in withdrawals,
Scraping the walls for one more nod of approval.

Cure me cold turkey if You have to Holy Spirit,
And cut off my lines that race past reality.
Tie me down to listen,
Rehab my mental dialogue with everyone
To quiet serenity at the Master's feet
Alone.

Quiet my addiction. Let my quiet be quiet,
And Your truth be true to my heart
That can't stop seeking everything but You.

Quiet my fixation and let my silence be,
For once and all,
Your sanctuary ageless that
curbs my aimless addictions to
substitutes for
You.



quieting,
mark p.
lamppoet@stellarnet.com