Called Higher

A poem about craving the high, drowning in the low, and being raised to new life

by Taylor O’Lynn

When I used to smoke weed
I think I craved the feeling
of fire in my chest to remind
me what it felt like to be alive

But no one’s ever died from pot
maybe not
but tell that to the part of me
that never lived without it.

Cozy – Smoked out
pass out on the couch
3 bowls deep of reeces cereal
watching rereuns, watching time,
watching my life like
smoke from my lips

It’s all natural
It helps me sleep
No need to count sheep
Roll up the sheet
God made it, it’s fine
I’ve done it a long time
There’s no way I’ll ever put it down

Feel uneasy?
Maybe sort of queasy?
We could fix it with a breezy.
Roll it up, lick it – sleazy
Doesn’t matter if you’re wheezy
Give it just a minute, we’ll get some mac n cheesy

Now I feel a little lazy
my brain’s a little hazy
thoughts moving slow but
the voices screaming crazy
maybe need another blazy
just to keep the demons quiet.

When I used to smoke weed,
The lies crept in through my ears
settled in my throat
let me choke
on the sound of darkness

You’re not worth it
the world’s better off if
Hop in the car real quick,
find a short road, the gas – hit
the blunt, the pedal. accelerate

but, it wasn’t like that all the time
no, not when I was high
That’s how I felt alive
it was once I was deprived that
I ran to find the light
but I was battling the lies
clouded up my eyes
I was blind,
braille bruised demise
sleepwalking to my grave
with my hands tied
Until He pried them open
Woke up to the prize

When I tell people that I don’t smoke weed anymore
They don’t try to convince me that I should
But they start to defend why they do
As if my mere proclaim to abstain
Pokes at their conviction begging for rebuttal

I’m not here to argue but
I know that it’s not true
That our God didn’t call you
to roll up the plants He made to
inhale or impale
your lungs into a sanctuary
the heart to the altar
my mind to be altered

He never told me to escape
instead of endure
He never told me to numb what
He came to Heal
He revealed
His messages concealed until
I turned it over in kind
“Be alert and of sober mind.
Your enemy the devil prowls
around like a roaring lion
looking for someone to devour.”

In this modest hour
The world that we stand
Cursed is the land
That tries to knock us down
But tell me, how
are we supposed to be
equipped to see
our destiny
when I spend all
of my days asleep?
How am I supposed to stand
when I know my knees are weak?
How am I supposed to fight
when I keep my sword sheathed?
where can I find the key
the one that’s meant to set me free?

Look –

We live in a system
that recoils from the kingdom
man made religion
tryna take away my freedom
what’ll finally happen when I can’t play the victim
look upon the wisdom

why would a man make
what a man can’t take
it’s staring at your face
too much self-control
too much grace
not enough my pace
not enough my taste
I thought we were talking about weed
Why are you jumping my case

See –

I called it peace,
but peace don’t sit on your chest in the middle of the night
I called it medicine,
but medicine don’t make you crave the sickness.

Called it freedom,
but why’d I fiend when the jar ran dry?
Called it healing,
but I was just too high to hear my own cries.

Kept my Bible shut,
kept my prayers brief,
kept my spirit dim,
so I could find quick relief.

But relief ain't the same as sanctity,
and paralysis ain't the same as peace.
I was never free—
I was just too numb to feel the leash.

Chained – don’t be fazed
All the grass I’ve grazed
I was dazed, crazed, enslaved
Until mercy called, I was saved
Like Lazarus raised
my death – erased
my sin – displaced
my mess and pain
He embraced
I once blazed, lost in haze,
now I stand, in awe – amazed

Sensuality and the Sands of Sin

A poem about sensuality, insecurity, and the worth I built on shifting sand until the Savior pulled me out. - By Taylor O’Lynn

How easy it was to suck
in my gut, poke out my chest,
put a sway in my step
wearing a pair of tight pants.

Unspoken invitation, a trap
no one would call out
until they fell in.
Because then, it was their fault.

How easy it was to strengthen my ego
with the crank of necks
attached to the heads of married men
my prize was when their eyes flicker sideways
to let my lips curl – I’ll keep your secret

the ring on their finger
sounded more like a challenge than a vow
a test of my wiles, my power.
I couldn’t deny the rush
drunk on their gaze, a lush.
I wanted to make them linger

I dipped into the open door of my closet
like a pool of promiscuous possibilities
Sifting through deep V necks, lace
rimmed skirts, and thigh high boots.
Conceptualizing the competition
I had to be more forkable than them
more edible, tasty to the tongue
enticing to the flesh

praying men would stumble
How normal it felt
to hate other women who must
share the same hunger, the lust
Who must secretly
think the same of me -
thus, they became my enemy.
Thus, I became theirs.

The man on my arm –
I held him close like a trophy,
and yet studied him like a suspect.

Searching followed lists
Tapping tiny bubbles with blonde hair
Swiping to the year 2014
hunting for his name in her likes,
counting interactions, cataloging sins,
prosecutor, judge, executioner,
and yet—
I was the one on trial.

Stuck in the loop of my own brain,
knowing I was insane,
knowing I was in pain,
knowing I was losing,
screaming out His name—
but not knowing who He was.

Not yet.

I saw the world as a game
Toy and string
cat and mouse
a glance, a nod, a taste,
points in my favor.
Validation, validation, validation.
I ate it up

And yet, on the drive home,
hand in his, upper thighs still exposed,
I told myself it was a compliment –
every lingering glance, every turned head,
was proof that he had won.

Didn’t it make him proud,
to have a woman other men wanted?
Wasn’t it validation for him, too?

But beyond the exterior,
as the tires turned, so did my thoughts
If his gaze, drifting, settling on another—
the way theirs settled on me,
the way I needed them to see me—
knowing what they’d do with me…

It carved through me,
split me open,
hollowed me out.

My worth built on their gaze,
My identity threaded through their hunger,
My existence wrapped in the hands of men
who didn’t even know my name.

I wasn’t afraid of losing him.
but afraid of him seeing what I already knew—
that I was nothing more
than the hips and the lips ,
skin and bone,
a body meant for consumption.

That I was only worth as much as I was wanted.
That I had built my foundation
on the shifting sands of sensuality,
and the tide was pulling it away.

I called out to a God I did not yet know.
He heard me—
but He let me sink deeper,
let me feel the weight of the wreckage,
let me drown in the very sands
I had built my life upon.

Before He reached down,
before He pulled me out,
before He became the foundation
and showed me how to build the house…

Not yet.

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