Speak Ιησούς

Life is...fleeting away right now.

It's a mixture of the drugs...the loneliness...the dislocation and disconcerting feeling...I don't know where it is leading to.

I see beauty almost as well as I can hear it.

There are pictures in my mind, abstract thoughts I reach out to touch...just to find my hand is empty.

Every breath I take while walking down this road...I look for you and have no clue where I am, what things are...dear Ιησούς.

There are so many misinterpretations...so many fleeting and dying words...things that defy being and reason and justifiable existential cause.

Redundant life thought, bleeding, fornicating in existence with being.

The one thing being...this wasteland.
Oh wasteland, oh life.
This terrible thing I've clutched in my hand,
holding tight until it bled.
Blood mixing with sweat
and burning with hate.
God, what is this monster,
this facade I have become?

Behind me is death
and before is something I never knew.
When is it to late,
to late to say I'm sorry?
To be forgiveness for every sin
and the rot inside this soul?
The trepidation of a soul
forsaken truth.
If I am here
Jesus where are You?

I want to speak plain,
I want to sing
God I need to loose this life
and feel the cords cut
and the physical torn away
and eternity enveloping all.

I have no words to say
no verses to sing
and no truth to speak.

Every lie has grown in its own way.
All of my sin bears fruit,
burning and suffocating me
in this hellish garden,
marking my self righteous.

Where am I?
Where are You?

I want to cry,
I want to beg for peace
a new start,
some forgiveness
and a way of breaking out of this bond
and to become Yours.
Your Son, despite these mistakes.

I walk in the shoes of angels
that cower beneath Your Holy Rage
and I become so self reliant,
so forgetting
such a bastard child
when the realization is simple.

Truth is only You,
The Truth is only You.
I just beg for enough grace
to live these dying moments for You.
That I die not with a whimper,
but a shout,
Your name on my lips.

Enough of this false modesty,
humbleness reserved for serpents
and angels forgetting their place.
I never knew You
and claiming I carried Your love
is a joke making everyone laugh,
everyone except You.

And here I am,
raging and waging a one man war
against this dark
I'm just as a part of.
The simple lesson is the first
and the last,
that love reigns supreme
and I'm nothing but another misfit.
Another vagabond
taken in at the last moment.
Saved by fulfilled grace,
fulfilling broken promises
and giving me a mirror
to see the wretch called me.

No one who sees cares
and no one cares will see,
see the blood spent
and hours of breaking and forming
and falling apart on account of You

Every bleeding lie,
posing as a martyr
and what do we have left?
Lies that point to You.

Old friend of confused loneliness...you have returned...

I just heard the term 'interwebz' used on Fox news. The day is now complete.

So...so...tired of feeling like death...

I don't know...and I am not sure if I want to.

Every waking breath is carrying me one step closer to the absolute and whatever it may hold.

"All Along the Watchtower" - Jimi Hendrix

It's been one horror show of a day...the effort to push forward feels almost too much.

God, where are you in this pain and confusion?

I feel like I'm drowning...where is the way out?

It sucks so much that I get so upset over an animal dying...I'm ashamed and angry and don't know what to say...I hate love, I hate feelings...I hate feeling like I'm loosing everything even before it really begins.

"Show me the way to go home...I'm tired and I want to go to bed...I had a little drink about an hour ago...and it went...right...to...my...head."

Memories are so painful.

Just stepping out out of the call and my foot landing the in rain puddle...it takes me back and reminds of everything I've tried to forget.

Jesus, I think I hate this town, this university, everything here.

"Gone" - U2

Forgiveness

"Fear is the path to the Dark Side. Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate... leads to suffering."
-Master Yoda


Forgiveness.

This word feel so cheap when I speak it from my lips.

Forgiveness.

Forgiveness?

Forgiveness from what? From whom?

It's not like anyone enjoys the act of forgiving others but at the same time we want it.

We need it.

Even when we don't realize we need it, we crave for it.

It's like oxygen and love.

We need both to breath, to exhale, to inhale, to feel, to begin to blossom in the sunlight from the broken creatures we once were.

And what of these words?
So frail.
So fragile.
Dying so soon.

A part of me resents God and hates this concept of forgiveness and love. This idea of 'loving others AS MUCH as I love myself" (Matthew 22:39, emphasis added) and that bit about "I'm telling you to love your enemies. Let them bring out the best in you, not the worst." (Matthew 5:44)

That is so irritating.

Infuriating even.

For someone who carries the weight of the world on his back as well as a few specially self created burdens of hate.

As one who is incredibly high strung, as someone who does not understand the concept of 'relaxing' or 'sleep' for that matter, this is infuriating because it means I am not only in the wrong but I am an idiot for wasting all of this energy on fear and confused anger.

To understand why people are willing to commit and do so many heinous acts you have to understand that so much of that rage comes from internalized fear. As cliche as it might seem we become what we surround ourselves with.

"Your eyes are windows into your body. If you open your eyes wide in wonder and belief, your body fills up with light. If you live squinty-eyed in greed and distrust, your body is a dark cellar. If you pull the blinds on your windows, what a dark life you will have. You can't worship two gods at once. Loving one god, you'll end up hating the other. Adoration of one feeds contempt for the other." (Matthew 6:22-24)

Part of this problem is circumstances beyond my control and thought, most of the time.

So often the problem is me...but there is something more then me...there is more...sometimes I do not think it is there...but it is...it is not dependent on my thought or my perfection...luckily.


"Jesus resumed talking to the people, but now tenderly. "The Father has given me all these things to do and say. This is a unique Father-Son operation, coming out of Father and Son intimacies and knowledge. No one knows the Son the way the Father does, nor the Father the way the Son does. But I'm not keeping it to myself; I'm ready to go over it line by line with anyone willing to listen.

""Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you'll recover your life. I'll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won't lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you'll learn to live freely and lightly.""
-Matthew 11:27-30

"Something Like Laughter" - Five Iron Frenzy

How did I forget Socrates? *sigh*

Ad experiments...needless to say I'm a sell out.

Yes...give me some advert cash because I need it...

*sigh*

Pharmaceutical drug hangover for the loose.

I just can't tell...the difference...if I miss you or maybe just hate you...if I want to see you again or just wish Jesus would put this eternal divide between us.

Sometimes you just can't simply kill your demons or old ghosts...maybe sometimes they just need hugs...

"Hurt" - Johnny Cash

This Is...It?

Nightmares.
So little time.
Bearing on reality or not,
do you sincerely believe
that all is mere flesh and bones?
That someone,
the totality can be summed
in mere organic thought
and numerical being?

It's not like I can't see you,
every day of my life
I'm feeling just like you.
I see the pain and know it's trite,
but there is love
and love enough for you
just like there is love for me.
Love that overcame death
and crossed this chasm.
Love that screams for freedom
gasping for breath
as it whispers your name.

It is just like this one
to leave home before being ready.
Forgetting everything at the door
and selling myself before I can agree
but here I am,
just like you.
Going down,
crashing at a moment's notice.
Failing on love
just as I have before.

What will it take for you to see,
this love is real,
blood bought
and eternal in being
far outside our souls
but close enough to fear.
Love that never failed
and never will.

No matter what I've done,
this lifetime of failure
summed up in a breath
You have carried me.
It is You who took on flesh
and wore it these many years,
carrying this pain
in a cross shaped parcel
With no thought of loss,
the Hell or fear
You carried me just as easily.
How can I reply?
How does one so broken and finite
respond to one infinite in love?

I've nothing to give,
nothing but this broken life.
Look into my eyes and see,
see what you've missed.
See the blood stained tears
and know there is hope.
See the distraught soul
that has been carried
and forgiven a lifetime of sin
and know there is grace.

I hate dreams.

Stop being so vivid already.

I don't want to care.

God I'm going to have a freaking aneurysm before this is all done and said.

"The Beginning" - Showbread

"The Lamb" - William Blake

Little Lamb, who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee?
Gave thee life, and bid thee feed,
By the stream and o'er the mead;
Gave thee clothing of delight,
Softest clothing, woolly, bright;
Gave thee such a tender voice,
Making all the vales rejoice?
Little Lamb, who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee?

Little Lamb, I'll tell thee,
Little Lamb, I'll tell thee.
He is called by thy name,
For He calls Himself a Lamb.
He is meek, and He is mild;
He became a little child.
I a child, and thou a lamb,
We are called by His name.
Little Lamb, God bless thee!
Little Lamb, God bless thee!

"The Tyger" - William Blake

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare sieze the fire?

And what shoulder, & what art.
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?