Sunday, July 27, 2008
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Friday, July 25, 2008
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Hold Me Jesus
Well, sometimes my life just don't make sense at all
When the mountains look so big
And my faith just seems so small
So hold me Jesus, 'cause I'm shaking like a leaf
You have been King of my glory
Won't You be my Prince of Peace
And I wake up in the night and feel the dark
It's so hot inside my soul
I swear there must be blisters on my heart
So hold me Jesus, 'cause I'm shaking like a leaf
You have been King of my glory
Won't You be my Prince of Peace
Surrender don't come natural to me
I'd rather fight You for something I don't really want
Than to take what You give that I need
And I've beat my head against so many walls
Now I'm falling down, I'm falling on my knees
And this Salvation Army band is playing this hymn
And Your grace rings out so deep
It makes my resistance seem so thin
I'm singing hold me Jesus, 'cause I'm shaking like a leaf
You have been King of my glory
Won't You be my Prince of Peace
You have been King of my glory
Won't You be my Prince of Peace
-Rich Mullins, "Hold Me Jesus"
When the mountains look so big
And my faith just seems so small
So hold me Jesus, 'cause I'm shaking like a leaf
You have been King of my glory
Won't You be my Prince of Peace
And I wake up in the night and feel the dark
It's so hot inside my soul
I swear there must be blisters on my heart
So hold me Jesus, 'cause I'm shaking like a leaf
You have been King of my glory
Won't You be my Prince of Peace
Surrender don't come natural to me
I'd rather fight You for something I don't really want
Than to take what You give that I need
And I've beat my head against so many walls
Now I'm falling down, I'm falling on my knees
And this Salvation Army band is playing this hymn
And Your grace rings out so deep
It makes my resistance seem so thin
I'm singing hold me Jesus, 'cause I'm shaking like a leaf
You have been King of my glory
Won't You be my Prince of Peace
You have been King of my glory
Won't You be my Prince of Peace
-Rich Mullins, "Hold Me Jesus"
I am so tired.
I sleep but there is no rest.
Physically my stomach is killing me and making it impossible to focus on anything else.
Lord, I am so tired.
Plus the bizarre dreams.
Focus is increasingly difficult.
But I want to love you so much more. I can talk about how much failure this in my life, go on ages about how much closer I want to be...but that is just the idle talk of a fool who doesn't know his left hand from his right.
I'm a fool for you, no more no less. Not to be mistakened for someone who knows anything beyond the basics...I am just me. Who you created me as. I don't have much strength left to endure.
Please remember me. Do not let me fade to nothingness. Please.
I sleep but there is no rest.
Physically my stomach is killing me and making it impossible to focus on anything else.
Lord, I am so tired.
Plus the bizarre dreams.
Focus is increasingly difficult.
But I want to love you so much more. I can talk about how much failure this in my life, go on ages about how much closer I want to be...but that is just the idle talk of a fool who doesn't know his left hand from his right.
I'm a fool for you, no more no less. Not to be mistakened for someone who knows anything beyond the basics...I am just me. Who you created me as. I don't have much strength left to endure.
Please remember me. Do not let me fade to nothingness. Please.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Friday, July 18, 2008
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Monday, July 14, 2008
A Few Not So Sorted Thoughts on Discipleship
Because the dead horse of discussing discipleship hasn't been beaten enough (in of course, my humble opinion), I figured I would throw out some ideas on it.
Early believers did not call themselves Christians. Out of reverence for Christ they simply referred to themselves as being adherents of "The Way". Depending how one reads Acts, it was actually people in Antioch using it as a potentially derogatory name.
"It was in Antioch that the disciples were for the first time called Christians"
-Acts 11:26
It is important to note that the disciples were called that, not that they called themselves that. The would simply refer to themselves as being followers of "The Way".
The reason why they did not call themselves Christians was because of how amazingly arrogant that would be considered. One liken unto Christ? Actually thinking about it in those terms...it just kinda makes our futile attempts all that more pitiful...but I'm not trying to start a revolution as much as make a point.
"The Way"
A very intriguing title. It gives one the mental image of a walkway, the idea that as we progress through life we were to be that salt and light Jesus was so fond to talk about. A more subtle and real life style of acting out of a changed heart.
I guess if I had to actually phrase discipleship into something like a definition it would be kinda like:
"-A deliberate attempt of one to deeply and truthfully search their heart, soul and mind to see where they stand in relation to Jesus the Christ. To realize the extent of our broken nature and how of an absolute desperate need we are to be redeemed every moment of our life. To realize that this redemption is not of our power but by falling by Jesus.
-One can pray and seek the face of Christ but it is only by His power are we changed, only by the blood of his sacrificial death are we cleansed of sin and only by his literal and absolute resurrection do we no longer have any fear over death.
-The life of a disciple is one that has been marked by a change that can only occur by a touch of the Living God. No program, emotional confession or mental exercise can render the absolute freedom and everlasting joy as the touch and movement of Christ.
-By choosing to accept this grace does one take the first step into what is a lifetime of change, of labor, of persecution, of being hated by this world and despised by our family, we loose our identity to become one with Christ. Our love for Christ must be greater and more passionate then any other person, thing or idea otherwise we must question who our true allegiance belongs to; the prince of this world or the King of Kings.
-The basis of a Christian life, of discipleship begins and ends with the person and their willingness to sacrifice time and resource to actively choose to pursue Christ with abandonment.
-This pursuit manifests itself in many of the same practices Jesus adhered to:
prayer, gorging oneself on the Word of God, fasting, giving ones time to serve others, humbling yourself to the death, putting everyone in front of you and being willing to be literally spat upon, literally beaten by whips until you bleed and then you are literally placed upon two wooden beams and are nailed onto them and left to die.
-To adhere to The Way you are not expected to simply come and go as you please. You are in essence marking yourself as an enemy of Satan and the kingdom he has set up on this world. Our job is not to wage war with the physical but to march as living sacrifices into the slaughter houses of the enemy.
But not for our glory. If for one moment we make any of this about us then Christ has died in vein and we pursue what is nothing more then a fool's errand."
There is no room for Christ and ego.
There is no room for myself, my pride and my plans.
I either choose Christ or myself.
The choice is also up to you.
"These words I speak to you are not incidental additions to your life, homeowner improvements to your standard of living. They are foundational words, words to build a life on. If you work these words into your life, you are like a smart carpenter who built his house on solid rock. Rain poured down, the river flooded, a tornado hit - but nothing moved that house. It was fixed to the rock.
"But if you just use my words in Bible studies and don't work them into your life, you are like a stupid carpenter who built his house on the sandy beach. When a storm rolled ion and the waves came up, it collapsed like a house of cards."
-Jesus, Matthew 7:24-27
Early believers did not call themselves Christians. Out of reverence for Christ they simply referred to themselves as being adherents of "The Way". Depending how one reads Acts, it was actually people in Antioch using it as a potentially derogatory name.
"It was in Antioch that the disciples were for the first time called Christians"
-Acts 11:26
It is important to note that the disciples were called that, not that they called themselves that. The would simply refer to themselves as being followers of "The Way".
The reason why they did not call themselves Christians was because of how amazingly arrogant that would be considered. One liken unto Christ? Actually thinking about it in those terms...it just kinda makes our futile attempts all that more pitiful...but I'm not trying to start a revolution as much as make a point.
"The Way"
A very intriguing title. It gives one the mental image of a walkway, the idea that as we progress through life we were to be that salt and light Jesus was so fond to talk about. A more subtle and real life style of acting out of a changed heart.
I guess if I had to actually phrase discipleship into something like a definition it would be kinda like:
"-A deliberate attempt of one to deeply and truthfully search their heart, soul and mind to see where they stand in relation to Jesus the Christ. To realize the extent of our broken nature and how of an absolute desperate need we are to be redeemed every moment of our life. To realize that this redemption is not of our power but by falling by Jesus.
-One can pray and seek the face of Christ but it is only by His power are we changed, only by the blood of his sacrificial death are we cleansed of sin and only by his literal and absolute resurrection do we no longer have any fear over death.
-The life of a disciple is one that has been marked by a change that can only occur by a touch of the Living God. No program, emotional confession or mental exercise can render the absolute freedom and everlasting joy as the touch and movement of Christ.
-By choosing to accept this grace does one take the first step into what is a lifetime of change, of labor, of persecution, of being hated by this world and despised by our family, we loose our identity to become one with Christ. Our love for Christ must be greater and more passionate then any other person, thing or idea otherwise we must question who our true allegiance belongs to; the prince of this world or the King of Kings.
-The basis of a Christian life, of discipleship begins and ends with the person and their willingness to sacrifice time and resource to actively choose to pursue Christ with abandonment.
-This pursuit manifests itself in many of the same practices Jesus adhered to:
prayer, gorging oneself on the Word of God, fasting, giving ones time to serve others, humbling yourself to the death, putting everyone in front of you and being willing to be literally spat upon, literally beaten by whips until you bleed and then you are literally placed upon two wooden beams and are nailed onto them and left to die.
-To adhere to The Way you are not expected to simply come and go as you please. You are in essence marking yourself as an enemy of Satan and the kingdom he has set up on this world. Our job is not to wage war with the physical but to march as living sacrifices into the slaughter houses of the enemy.
But not for our glory. If for one moment we make any of this about us then Christ has died in vein and we pursue what is nothing more then a fool's errand."
There is no room for Christ and ego.
There is no room for myself, my pride and my plans.
I either choose Christ or myself.
The choice is also up to you.
"These words I speak to you are not incidental additions to your life, homeowner improvements to your standard of living. They are foundational words, words to build a life on. If you work these words into your life, you are like a smart carpenter who built his house on solid rock. Rain poured down, the river flooded, a tornado hit - but nothing moved that house. It was fixed to the rock.
"But if you just use my words in Bible studies and don't work them into your life, you are like a stupid carpenter who built his house on the sandy beach. When a storm rolled ion and the waves came up, it collapsed like a house of cards."
-Jesus, Matthew 7:24-27
Work in progress...?
The night is alight with silver meadows,
an ocean bathed in brilliant auras,
trepidation and the titillation of waves.
Back and forth in the giant maw of time,
a holy testament to
an ocean bathed in brilliant auras,
trepidation and the titillation of waves.
Back and forth in the giant maw of time,
a holy testament to
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Asorted Poems (Sorta)
This is an odd hodge-podge of poem/rambling thought/essay and song lyric.
If you can find a running order kudos to you and you will get a gold star and a pat on the head.
All I have left to say is
Please light my way,
the night is dark and the day is long in coming,
please light my way.
Won't you light my way?
** ** **
Time, Yes Time
The distance is measured in seconds
as your heart beats in sync
With the watch you watch so diligently.
Gazing in every single place
but where it matters
Refusing to face my face
for fear of fear.
Every single moment we dance this,
this syncopated
Melodramatic
Second by Second race.
Indeterminably you.
Repetitions repetition by you,
the repetition's heart beat by you
Again, again and again.
We face the sound of sound
by waters trail and beasts tail.
Running this syncopated race.
As we avoid face and time.
Time is our oyster,
the seconds are a waste
as we trail minute by minuet.
Words playing off our tounges
as we fumble in our pockets
for this minute change
of our lost ways.
Brazen we smile as we dance
refusing to cope with out loss.
** ** **
A Non-Story
Free lancer impostor
Persuader and full time traitor
Donning porcelain masks
and magazines,
the trade is in the lie.
Informing all of their terrible sin
while retaining all my secrets within.
It is a beautiful life based upon myself
My guilt, my health and the fork tongued self.
Any more release and we might have pain.
Any more trouble and you can be sure of my name.
I wear the mask to show the same
Nameless villains within,
that dabbles in the art of self,
the pious beginnings we all say
Are the blessings of which we win.
Wearing my hat in all its glory,
I recite the words
To my greatest story
Of elves and birds and swords,
of the wicked tongues
and acts of men.
Yes, a blessed curse of contradictory rates.
** ** **
Running Songs
It is in every breath you take,
the shifting light being born.
Pure only in the ways that you imagine
that a life of lie could be.
The frigid breeze you make,
with words full of unspoken scorn.
I could stand here and pretend,
imagine my soul as light
and free
and content
born to be lifted
Above petty sight and being your personal blight.
Free to roam these streets alone.
Free to be who I was born to be.
No longer afraid of what it means,
to be free of the malcontent of your lies.
The problem of choice is that we choose,
we choose to be what we be.
We cry and die to simple amplify our lie.
Yes, it is pitiful but it is who we are.
To deny ourselves ourself would be inhuman,
but is it what we need to be free?
To see ourselves as much as we are.
That all consuming lie we sell
at the corner markets of our soul.
Ringing bells.
To run free forever on this breeze,
that is where I will be.
To never be brought down by your negative conviction,
the lies you spun to being disorder,
the lies you sowed to let blossom into little birdies.
That sing, sing the one song you know.
You.
** ** **
Unexpected Flight Layovers
It is every single breath you take
that tells me every single thing
Every slight of hand
The forms your lips make
Your hollowness that craves a ring
If I wasn't so sure I wouldn't be me
If it wasn't just you it would
Delay.
Again.
It is the smallness of your hands
Their gentle pressure
As you continue to struggle
The vision gets bleaker
As your grip gets tighter
The only thing you know is yourself
If vanity was true it was always you
Delayed.
If not Denied.
Again.
To call this a dance is to blaspheme
The distance between us is a gulf
Created by the sparse vacuum
That you confuse for being a soul.
My only certainty of you
Is in that you begin as you end
Merciless void drawing in light
You delayed again.
Denying yourself
As you press your lips tight
Kissing your honey good night
Caressing my heart in distance
Smiling your little grin
Smug in the naivety of those who trust
Who dig their grave because of you.
Really it is simple.
Your analogy of life is a construct
Pulled by you.
You are a fiend.
Playing as a friend.
Delaying.
Delayed.
Delay.
Play with your dead mouse little kitten.
Purse your lips and make them perfect.
Dab a little make up.
Some gloss
Shadows for the fire of your eyes.
Constrict my throat
Hold onto my hand
Go ahead and grasp my heart with both hands.
By all means you are a charlatan.
A beautiful depression who delays.
Singing a melody you pretend to have wrote.
I see through your eyes.
You delayed again.
You stopped the bullet with your eyes.
If you smile you know you can hold.
I just taste bile.
Because of that pretty little smile.
** ** **
Hooray For Job Applications
It is frustrating that in what little contact I have made in trying to find a church position I am now more convinced then ever that I will never be hired unless I am willing to put on a charade and parade around religiosity bullshit that would otherwise cause me to vomit.
The fact that Jesus loves you should not only be a comforting thought but it should become the deepest desire in the very being of your soul. It should become the single most disturbing thought that haunts your every waking and sleeping moments. The fact the one who spoke creation into being is enraptured with your sinful and otherwise useless failure of a self should cause you to stand up boldly under the weight of knowing that without his very breath and attention your frail body would collapse in of itself and you would drown in your own bodily fluids.
...on further reflection I think I see why I will not be hired anytime soon.
Immaturity is that key.
Shadows upon my soul.
My inability to cope with stress because of me.
I clutch pity like a prize
and pretend I play a different game.
When there never was a game.
All we have is You.
I clutch tightly to myself and damn myself to being unproductive.
I tout your name like a cure, like I am somehow different
from those under the curse of our own selfish intent.
I scream for the loss blood of the innocent
and cry out for the blood of their killers
while not realizing both are damned without your love.
I long for the singleness and unity of you.
To be swept into your arms for eternity.
To feel your heart beat and touch your soul.
To know Your love extends past myself.
The unity of love together.
To sleep.
To rest.
Secure.
Forevermore.
** ** **
Reality Kinda Sucks
I suppose this is what makes me the absolute same as every other human:
I am a rather horrible person. Undeniable fact really.
Good? Giving? Kind? Courteous?
Semantical ideals that are no more then lies, lies we need to tell ourself so we can lay down at night and sleep.
Nothing more and nothing less.
Human beings really can only handle so much real truth.
We polish up everything we are to afraid to deal with and what may make us upset. Wonderful horrors we are all deep down.
Realizing my own potential for cold blooded evil is not the same as me following through with the acts.
But it does still scare me.
Greatly.
** ** **
Press *86 In Case of Zombie Attacks
Tonight is the night I never thought I would see
Everything that was just fade away
Taken apart in a blind zombie eating rage!
Zombies to the left of me,
Zombies to the right
Look out for the one about to bite
Grab the shotgun shells and let's go fight
Don't get trapped down an alley,
Or to snug in your aerie
There's a war in the streets
Man versus the beast
You know I don't care the cause
Zombies rise and Zombies fall
You know I could sing it all day long
Haunted cabins and desolate malls
All fill my sight as I try to let go
Infected labs can produce the disease
That's okay; they can still burn to the ground
Look out tonight, some heads might roll,
I'm revving up the chainsaw
And about to come get some
Zombies to the left of me,
Zombies to the right
Look out for the one about to bite
Grab the shotgun shells and let's go fight
Don't get trapped down an alley,
Or to snug in your aerie
There's a war in the streets
Man versus the beast
They're gonna eat your love ones
They're gonna kill the hated ones
Just like the rising sun
This plague doesn't care who it falls upon
zombies to the left to the right
its gonna be one long night
grab the shotgun shells
open the door to Hell,
'cause there is a lot to pay
Let's go fight
let's go fight
** ** **
Hours Spaced
It is good to know that these waves will continue to crash and wash away long beyond my minuscule lifetime.
The waves wash and carry grains of sand far beyond their homes.
I am buffeted by the wings of time and drawn into streams of life I never to be.
Every passing moment of life is as fleeting as the next.
Wave crashing wave, carrying out purpose with a fleeting life time as old as age.
** ** **
Forge
This burning dull sensation.
Hunger for life in its separate ways.
Sanitation inside acting out.
Day by Day burning cleaning sense.
** ** **
Yet More to Go
It is just great. I can hide here in my self pity all the live long day. Neglecting others, neglecting self and rising another mile marker in the name of pride. Isn't it just wonderful, so absolutely wondrous at the absurdity of the stark vulgarity crying out?
Oh dear, can't you just see it all wrapped around your little finger? The dying addictions, the self afflicted cancers that eat away at our precious pretending souls? We claim to know something, to see it all but at the end of the day so very little is left of your world.
You can hear it. I know you can. The high pitched screaming along with the chittering legs of insects running rampant through the very essence of your being.
You can defy everything that is within, dance around the truth and be everything that I knew I never would choose not to be. Lusting for the attention and whoring out the being of myself just so I can please the monolith I raised. Sacrifices and blood pouring from your soul.
Every time and I mean every single time I look into your eyes, gaze into that steel cold reflection of myself...I see every last thing I have ever despised and wanted to kill. Nothing can hope to define the ecstasy of rage that burns in my heart at seeing you, the precious little angel concocted from misplaced sympathy and unadulterated lust.
A bastard child if there ever could be hope of one.
There could never be one I hate more, one I am more disconnected from and one that i will never know so deeply. Ego and super ego, persona and soul. One mind, one body, one flesh and one soul. We are one and the same, yet we are the polar opposite of carnal flesh and supernatural spirit. No hate could ever be met, no demonic screech could math the throes of our battles. Ultimately we are both wrong, both bastards in need of a redeeming wrench from the overwhelming powers of divine wrath.
Sing over me.
Let the waves of ocean flow underneath.
Be still in breath and wait to hear,
The voice of my love.
Sweet and low inside,
flowing within and without this life.
Even within the fevered pitch of my hate,
You have still loved me.
** ** **
Nameless Sigh
Infection
Breaking in
Screaming out
Every little word is tried
Every little thing that said
Drawn me in or cast me out
Your beauty is all I got left
It moves me after I stop
The downbeat with out a doubt
Pulls me back to life
** ** **
Capstone
My liturgy is taken linearly
and my poems are taken literary.
The paths are burned with sneering vernacular,
words I throw about like searing flames,
hope I will never abandon to myself.
The labyrinth of my mind is my soul.
Essence bleeding hope as much as desire,
muddled hope trampled by this thought.
The moment of being you forget when you can breath and know.
Ecstasy and joy of forgetting that you need to know you are.
Metaphorical releases of sound and hope,
the bare and base essential of life is in this moment of life.
Blowing care free across once withered plains,
plains now lost in the joy of rebirth.
Steams of life overflow into flowing growth.
Leaving the forgotten and breaking anew.
Lackadaisical, really.
One breath of air into the next.
Lost within you.
Hope returned.
Please be reborn in her.
Not for my sake but for Yours.
Return and breath in new life.
Prayerfully.
If you can find a running order kudos to you and you will get a gold star and a pat on the head.
All I have left to say is
Please light my way,
the night is dark and the day is long in coming,
please light my way.
Won't you light my way?
** ** **
Time, Yes Time
The distance is measured in seconds
as your heart beats in sync
With the watch you watch so diligently.
Gazing in every single place
but where it matters
Refusing to face my face
for fear of fear.
Every single moment we dance this,
this syncopated
Melodramatic
Second by Second race.
Indeterminably you.
Repetitions repetition by you,
the repetition's heart beat by you
Again, again and again.
We face the sound of sound
by waters trail and beasts tail.
Running this syncopated race.
As we avoid face and time.
Time is our oyster,
the seconds are a waste
as we trail minute by minuet.
Words playing off our tounges
as we fumble in our pockets
for this minute change
of our lost ways.
Brazen we smile as we dance
refusing to cope with out loss.
** ** **
A Non-Story
Free lancer impostor
Persuader and full time traitor
Donning porcelain masks
and magazines,
the trade is in the lie.
Informing all of their terrible sin
while retaining all my secrets within.
It is a beautiful life based upon myself
My guilt, my health and the fork tongued self.
Any more release and we might have pain.
Any more trouble and you can be sure of my name.
I wear the mask to show the same
Nameless villains within,
that dabbles in the art of self,
the pious beginnings we all say
Are the blessings of which we win.
Wearing my hat in all its glory,
I recite the words
To my greatest story
Of elves and birds and swords,
of the wicked tongues
and acts of men.
Yes, a blessed curse of contradictory rates.
** ** **
Running Songs
It is in every breath you take,
the shifting light being born.
Pure only in the ways that you imagine
that a life of lie could be.
The frigid breeze you make,
with words full of unspoken scorn.
I could stand here and pretend,
imagine my soul as light
and free
and content
born to be lifted
Above petty sight and being your personal blight.
Free to roam these streets alone.
Free to be who I was born to be.
No longer afraid of what it means,
to be free of the malcontent of your lies.
The problem of choice is that we choose,
we choose to be what we be.
We cry and die to simple amplify our lie.
Yes, it is pitiful but it is who we are.
To deny ourselves ourself would be inhuman,
but is it what we need to be free?
To see ourselves as much as we are.
That all consuming lie we sell
at the corner markets of our soul.
Ringing bells.
To run free forever on this breeze,
that is where I will be.
To never be brought down by your negative conviction,
the lies you spun to being disorder,
the lies you sowed to let blossom into little birdies.
That sing, sing the one song you know.
You.
** ** **
Unexpected Flight Layovers
It is every single breath you take
that tells me every single thing
Every slight of hand
The forms your lips make
Your hollowness that craves a ring
If I wasn't so sure I wouldn't be me
If it wasn't just you it would
Delay.
Again.
It is the smallness of your hands
Their gentle pressure
As you continue to struggle
The vision gets bleaker
As your grip gets tighter
The only thing you know is yourself
If vanity was true it was always you
Delayed.
If not Denied.
Again.
To call this a dance is to blaspheme
The distance between us is a gulf
Created by the sparse vacuum
That you confuse for being a soul.
My only certainty of you
Is in that you begin as you end
Merciless void drawing in light
You delayed again.
Denying yourself
As you press your lips tight
Kissing your honey good night
Caressing my heart in distance
Smiling your little grin
Smug in the naivety of those who trust
Who dig their grave because of you.
Really it is simple.
Your analogy of life is a construct
Pulled by you.
You are a fiend.
Playing as a friend.
Delaying.
Delayed.
Delay.
Play with your dead mouse little kitten.
Purse your lips and make them perfect.
Dab a little make up.
Some gloss
Shadows for the fire of your eyes.
Constrict my throat
Hold onto my hand
Go ahead and grasp my heart with both hands.
By all means you are a charlatan.
A beautiful depression who delays.
Singing a melody you pretend to have wrote.
I see through your eyes.
You delayed again.
You stopped the bullet with your eyes.
If you smile you know you can hold.
I just taste bile.
Because of that pretty little smile.
** ** **
Hooray For Job Applications
It is frustrating that in what little contact I have made in trying to find a church position I am now more convinced then ever that I will never be hired unless I am willing to put on a charade and parade around religiosity bullshit that would otherwise cause me to vomit.
The fact that Jesus loves you should not only be a comforting thought but it should become the deepest desire in the very being of your soul. It should become the single most disturbing thought that haunts your every waking and sleeping moments. The fact the one who spoke creation into being is enraptured with your sinful and otherwise useless failure of a self should cause you to stand up boldly under the weight of knowing that without his very breath and attention your frail body would collapse in of itself and you would drown in your own bodily fluids.
...on further reflection I think I see why I will not be hired anytime soon.
Immaturity is that key.
Shadows upon my soul.
My inability to cope with stress because of me.
I clutch pity like a prize
and pretend I play a different game.
When there never was a game.
All we have is You.
I clutch tightly to myself and damn myself to being unproductive.
I tout your name like a cure, like I am somehow different
from those under the curse of our own selfish intent.
I scream for the loss blood of the innocent
and cry out for the blood of their killers
while not realizing both are damned without your love.
I long for the singleness and unity of you.
To be swept into your arms for eternity.
To feel your heart beat and touch your soul.
To know Your love extends past myself.
The unity of love together.
To sleep.
To rest.
Secure.
Forevermore.
** ** **
Reality Kinda Sucks
I suppose this is what makes me the absolute same as every other human:
I am a rather horrible person. Undeniable fact really.
Good? Giving? Kind? Courteous?
Semantical ideals that are no more then lies, lies we need to tell ourself so we can lay down at night and sleep.
Nothing more and nothing less.
Human beings really can only handle so much real truth.
We polish up everything we are to afraid to deal with and what may make us upset. Wonderful horrors we are all deep down.
Realizing my own potential for cold blooded evil is not the same as me following through with the acts.
But it does still scare me.
Greatly.
** ** **
Press *86 In Case of Zombie Attacks
Tonight is the night I never thought I would see
Everything that was just fade away
Taken apart in a blind zombie eating rage!
Zombies to the left of me,
Zombies to the right
Look out for the one about to bite
Grab the shotgun shells and let's go fight
Don't get trapped down an alley,
Or to snug in your aerie
There's a war in the streets
Man versus the beast
You know I don't care the cause
Zombies rise and Zombies fall
You know I could sing it all day long
Haunted cabins and desolate malls
All fill my sight as I try to let go
Infected labs can produce the disease
That's okay; they can still burn to the ground
Look out tonight, some heads might roll,
I'm revving up the chainsaw
And about to come get some
Zombies to the left of me,
Zombies to the right
Look out for the one about to bite
Grab the shotgun shells and let's go fight
Don't get trapped down an alley,
Or to snug in your aerie
There's a war in the streets
Man versus the beast
They're gonna eat your love ones
They're gonna kill the hated ones
Just like the rising sun
This plague doesn't care who it falls upon
zombies to the left to the right
its gonna be one long night
grab the shotgun shells
open the door to Hell,
'cause there is a lot to pay
Let's go fight
let's go fight
** ** **
Hours Spaced
It is good to know that these waves will continue to crash and wash away long beyond my minuscule lifetime.
The waves wash and carry grains of sand far beyond their homes.
I am buffeted by the wings of time and drawn into streams of life I never to be.
Every passing moment of life is as fleeting as the next.
Wave crashing wave, carrying out purpose with a fleeting life time as old as age.
** ** **
Forge
This burning dull sensation.
Hunger for life in its separate ways.
Sanitation inside acting out.
Day by Day burning cleaning sense.
** ** **
Yet More to Go
It is just great. I can hide here in my self pity all the live long day. Neglecting others, neglecting self and rising another mile marker in the name of pride. Isn't it just wonderful, so absolutely wondrous at the absurdity of the stark vulgarity crying out?
Oh dear, can't you just see it all wrapped around your little finger? The dying addictions, the self afflicted cancers that eat away at our precious pretending souls? We claim to know something, to see it all but at the end of the day so very little is left of your world.
You can hear it. I know you can. The high pitched screaming along with the chittering legs of insects running rampant through the very essence of your being.
You can defy everything that is within, dance around the truth and be everything that I knew I never would choose not to be. Lusting for the attention and whoring out the being of myself just so I can please the monolith I raised. Sacrifices and blood pouring from your soul.
Every time and I mean every single time I look into your eyes, gaze into that steel cold reflection of myself...I see every last thing I have ever despised and wanted to kill. Nothing can hope to define the ecstasy of rage that burns in my heart at seeing you, the precious little angel concocted from misplaced sympathy and unadulterated lust.
A bastard child if there ever could be hope of one.
There could never be one I hate more, one I am more disconnected from and one that i will never know so deeply. Ego and super ego, persona and soul. One mind, one body, one flesh and one soul. We are one and the same, yet we are the polar opposite of carnal flesh and supernatural spirit. No hate could ever be met, no demonic screech could math the throes of our battles. Ultimately we are both wrong, both bastards in need of a redeeming wrench from the overwhelming powers of divine wrath.
Sing over me.
Let the waves of ocean flow underneath.
Be still in breath and wait to hear,
The voice of my love.
Sweet and low inside,
flowing within and without this life.
Even within the fevered pitch of my hate,
You have still loved me.
** ** **
Nameless Sigh
Infection
Breaking in
Screaming out
Every little word is tried
Every little thing that said
Drawn me in or cast me out
Your beauty is all I got left
It moves me after I stop
The downbeat with out a doubt
Pulls me back to life
** ** **
Capstone
My liturgy is taken linearly
and my poems are taken literary.
The paths are burned with sneering vernacular,
words I throw about like searing flames,
hope I will never abandon to myself.
The labyrinth of my mind is my soul.
Essence bleeding hope as much as desire,
muddled hope trampled by this thought.
The moment of being you forget when you can breath and know.
Ecstasy and joy of forgetting that you need to know you are.
Metaphorical releases of sound and hope,
the bare and base essential of life is in this moment of life.
Blowing care free across once withered plains,
plains now lost in the joy of rebirth.
Steams of life overflow into flowing growth.
Leaving the forgotten and breaking anew.
Lackadaisical, really.
One breath of air into the next.
Lost within you.
Hope returned.
Please be reborn in her.
Not for my sake but for Yours.
Return and breath in new life.
Prayerfully.
Time, Yes Time
The distance is measured in seconds
as your heart beats in sync
With the watch you watch so diligently.
Gazing in every single place
but where it matters
Refusing to face my face
for fear of fear.
Every single moment we dance this,
this syncopated
Melodramatic
Second by Second race.
Indeterminably you.
Repetitions repetition by you,
the repetition's heart beat by you
Again, again and again.
We face the sound of sound
by waters trail and beasts tail.
Running this syncopated race.
As we avoid face and time.
Time is our oyster,
the seconds are a waste
as we trail minute by minuet.
Words playing off our tounges
as we fumble in our pockets
for this minute change
of our lost ways.
Brazen we smile as we dance
refusing to cope with out loss.
as your heart beats in sync
With the watch you watch so diligently.
Gazing in every single place
but where it matters
Refusing to face my face
for fear of fear.
Every single moment we dance this,
this syncopated
Melodramatic
Second by Second race.
Indeterminably you.
Repetitions repetition by you,
the repetition's heart beat by you
Again, again and again.
We face the sound of sound
by waters trail and beasts tail.
Running this syncopated race.
As we avoid face and time.
Time is our oyster,
the seconds are a waste
as we trail minute by minuet.
Words playing off our tounges
as we fumble in our pockets
for this minute change
of our lost ways.
Brazen we smile as we dance
refusing to cope with out loss.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
A Non-Story
Free lancer impostor
Persuader and full time traitor
Donning porcelain masks
and magazines,
the trade is in the lie.
Informing all of their terrible sin
while retaining all my secrets within.
It is a beautiful life based upon myself
My guilt, my health and the fork tongued self.
Any more release and we might have pain.
Any more trouble and you can be sure of my name.
I wear the mask to show the same
Nameless villains within,
that dabbles in the art of self,
the pious beginnings we all say
Are the blessings of which we win.
Wearing my hat in all its glory,
I recite the words
To my greatest story
Of elves and birds and swords,
of the wicked tongues
and acts of men.
Yes, a blessed curse of contradictory rates.
Persuader and full time traitor
Donning porcelain masks
and magazines,
the trade is in the lie.
Informing all of their terrible sin
while retaining all my secrets within.
It is a beautiful life based upon myself
My guilt, my health and the fork tongued self.
Any more release and we might have pain.
Any more trouble and you can be sure of my name.
I wear the mask to show the same
Nameless villains within,
that dabbles in the art of self,
the pious beginnings we all say
Are the blessings of which we win.
Wearing my hat in all its glory,
I recite the words
To my greatest story
Of elves and birds and swords,
of the wicked tongues
and acts of men.
Yes, a blessed curse of contradictory rates.
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
Running Songs
It is in every breath you take,
the shifting light being born.
Pure only in the ways that you imagine
that a life of lie could be.
The frigid breeze you make,
with words full of unspoken scorn.
I could stand here and pretend,
imagine my soul as light
and free
and content
born to be lifted
Above petty sight and being your personal blight.
Free to roam these streets alone.
Free to be who I was born to be.
No longer afraid of what it means,
to be free of the malcontent of your lies.
The problem of choice is that we choose,
we choose to be what we be.
We cry and die to simple amplify our lie.
Yes, it is pitiful but it is who we are.
To deny ourselves ourself would be inhuman,
but is it what we need to be free?
To see ourselves as much as we are.
That all consuming lie we sell
at the corner markets of our soul.
Ringing bells.
To run free forever on this breeze,
that is where I will be.
To never be brought down by your negative conviction,
the lies you spun to being disorder,
the lies you sowed to let blossom into little birdies.
That sing, sing the one song you know.
You.
the shifting light being born.
Pure only in the ways that you imagine
that a life of lie could be.
The frigid breeze you make,
with words full of unspoken scorn.
I could stand here and pretend,
imagine my soul as light
and free
and content
born to be lifted
Above petty sight and being your personal blight.
Free to roam these streets alone.
Free to be who I was born to be.
No longer afraid of what it means,
to be free of the malcontent of your lies.
The problem of choice is that we choose,
we choose to be what we be.
We cry and die to simple amplify our lie.
Yes, it is pitiful but it is who we are.
To deny ourselves ourself would be inhuman,
but is it what we need to be free?
To see ourselves as much as we are.
That all consuming lie we sell
at the corner markets of our soul.
Ringing bells.
To run free forever on this breeze,
that is where I will be.
To never be brought down by your negative conviction,
the lies you spun to being disorder,
the lies you sowed to let blossom into little birdies.
That sing, sing the one song you know.
You.
Monday, July 7, 2008
Unexpected Flight Layover
It is every single breath you take
that tells me every single thing
Every slight of hand
The forms your lips make
Your hollowness that craves a ring
If I wasn't so sure I wouldn't be me
If it wasn't just you it would
Delay.
Again.
It is the smallness of your hands
Their gentle pressure
As you continue to struggle
The vision gets bleaker
As your grip gets tighter
The only thing you know is yourself
If vanity was true it was always you
Delayed.
If not Denied.
Again.
To call this a dance is to blaspheme
The distance between us is a gulf
Created by the sparse vacuum
That you confuse for being a soul.
My only certainty of you
Is in that you begin as you end
Merciless void drawing in light
You delayed again.
Denying yourself
As you press your lips tight
Kissing your honey good night
Caressing my heart in distance
Smiling your little grin
Smug in the naivety of those who trust
Who dig their grave because of you.
Really it is simple.
Your analogy of life is a construct
Pulled by you.
Your] are a fiend.
Playing as a friend.
Delaying.
Delayed.
Delay.
Play with your dead mouse little kitten.
Purse your lips and make them perfect.
Dab a little make up.
Some gloss
Shadows for the fire of your eyes.
Constrict my throat
Hold onto my hand
Go ahead and grasp my heart with both hands.
By all means you are a charlatan.
A beautiful depression who delays.
Singing a melody you pretend to have wrote.
I see through your eyes.
You delayed again.
You stopped the bullet with your eyes.
If you smile you know you can hold.
I just taste bile.
Because of that pretty little smile.
that tells me every single thing
Every slight of hand
The forms your lips make
Your hollowness that craves a ring
If I wasn't so sure I wouldn't be me
If it wasn't just you it would
Delay.
Again.
It is the smallness of your hands
Their gentle pressure
As you continue to struggle
The vision gets bleaker
As your grip gets tighter
The only thing you know is yourself
If vanity was true it was always you
Delayed.
If not Denied.
Again.
To call this a dance is to blaspheme
The distance between us is a gulf
Created by the sparse vacuum
That you confuse for being a soul.
My only certainty of you
Is in that you begin as you end
Merciless void drawing in light
You delayed again.
Denying yourself
As you press your lips tight
Kissing your honey good night
Caressing my heart in distance
Smiling your little grin
Smug in the naivety of those who trust
Who dig their grave because of you.
Really it is simple.
Your analogy of life is a construct
Pulled by you.
Your] are a fiend.
Playing as a friend.
Delaying.
Delayed.
Delay.
Play with your dead mouse little kitten.
Purse your lips and make them perfect.
Dab a little make up.
Some gloss
Shadows for the fire of your eyes.
Constrict my throat
Hold onto my hand
Go ahead and grasp my heart with both hands.
By all means you are a charlatan.
A beautiful depression who delays.
Singing a melody you pretend to have wrote.
I see through your eyes.
You delayed again.
You stopped the bullet with your eyes.
If you smile you know you can hold.
I just taste bile.
Because of that pretty little smile.
Sunday, July 6, 2008
Fifty Years
While attempting to lay down and take a nap, apparently the only time good ideas will come to me, I was hit with the dawning realization that I have approximately fifty years of life left, give or take.
If my mom is lucky she has about twenty - thirty years and with the way my step dad keeps trashing his body he'll be lucky to have anything more then another five to ten years.
Mortality is bizarre, the fact we are limited in life isn't necessarily the most odd thing but coming to grapple with the fact that I will not be living past the 2060's is one strange concept. Stopping to think about it, there is an equal if not greater chance of me dying before then...could be ten years or my heart could stop beating before you are able to finish reading this very sentence.
Insane I have to say.
Insane.
Since we have such a short amount of time left what do we do with it? What point is there to actually utilizing the time for anything? Do we have a greater purpose beyond using the time and circumstances for anything other then our pursuits and our pleasures? When the time comes to give an account for ourselves can we just declare "I am" and hope it works all out?
To a lesser extent that is the greatest tenant of humanism:
"I am, I will be, I will continue. All things exist as they will be. I exist for my will to be done and it will be."
I admit that is a slight over simplification but I think it serves the purpose of discussion.
One of the biggest themes of Christianity, the Bible, the teachings of Christ, however you want to put it, is the death of self serving attitudes.
The Bible does not say human life or the enjoyment of sex and drink is wrong. That is a misconception that can be traced back to stoic philosophies. The real focus Scripture has is that we bring our lives into balance.
"You, therefore, must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect"
-Matthew 5:48
To be honest English as a language sucks. Translating the Bible from Hebrew and Greek is a tricky thing at best and quite frankly I hate most translations.
In the above passage the word 'perfect' would be better translated as complete or whole.
The idea Jesus was trying to convey in Matthew 5 (also know as the Sermon on the Mount for all you would be Rhode Scholars) is that traditional wisdom on religion sucks and it sucks bad. Some ideas concerning traditional wisdom that Jesus said sucked were:
-not murdering people but holding grudges
-not cheating on your spouse but letting your mind and eyes wander onto someone else
-using double speak to avoid the truth
-simply loving your friends and hating your enemies
-Seeking revenge on those who have wronged you
In other words these actions and reactions are not part of who we should be. It is beneath the men and women we were meant to be. Petty fights, senseless passions and worship of the self are all fleeting ideas that never lead to any true satisfaction and a real complete self.
At best it is a cheap fix to giving ourselves meaning.
The typical thought is that 'boys will be boys', 'politicians will lie anyway', 'I can't help how I feel', 'what they don't know won't kill them'...incidentally most of these are actually double speak and ways for people to cling to both an idea of religion while eating their cake (see Revelation 3:16 about being spat about for this kind of thing).
It is not like God's law/rules/whatever make a person worse, it just shows us for who we really are...selfish pricks. The Law acts as an equalizer, making us look at who we really are deep down...flawed humans who are desperately drowning in our own selfish pools of self pity.
Humans aren't necessarily evil, just severally flawed...wait, was that double speak in and of itself?
Point being is that we have limited time and most people use it to indulge what ever we think will make us happy and consequently we put on a smile and are unhappy. The sex, the games, the beer may help us smile a bit but on the inside we are dying.
We may not know why, but we are not content with who we are. I am a Christian and I'm not happy. I struggle with depression and feeling lost and worthless, content saint I am not.
I write poetry that tends to be about life sucking. I keep a blog where I can moan and complain about how unfair life is. I don't just think the glass is half empty, I pour it out onto the floor and slam the glass down on the bar demanding to know where my drink went.
Is this the life I want? Is it a life any of us want? How much real decision do any of us have at any given point?
We can float about to a certain degree but we have monetary obligations. We want so we buy, we want more so we get credit so we can buy more. Or maybe we just screwed over by life and we're left with debt we can't pay.
There is always something waiting around the corner to side line us and get our eyes off the bigger picture.
But at the end of the day we are not responsible for what life does to us, what other humans do to us...but we are responsible for how we react and what it is we do with our responses.
In Matthew 5 Jesus says we should:
-Forgive everyone no matter how badly they hurt us. The deeper the blow the more desperate we are in need of forgiving them and allow healing in our soul.
-Knowing we are human but also knowing that commitment is more important then running ourselves ragged with sexual baggage. The more you expose yourself to that life the less you feel, abandoning yourself to the mercy of pleasure is a sure ticket to Hell on earth.
-The truth may hurt but living a duplicitous life is a way to ensure life long misery.
-Love everyone, it is the only way to make it through life with a shred of sanity. Giving yourself to loving God and then loving others is the only way to find a shred of meaning but...that still has no guarantee.
-A life wasted on vengeance is a life wasted entirely. A heart consumed with hate has no room for love.
Fifty years.
If I am lucky at that.
Decisions that shape me and the future in ways I can never know.
I am responsible only for my actions, no one else.
Every day I choose to either move towards completion or back into chaos.
"In a word, what I'm saying is, GROW UP. You're kingdom subjects. Now live like it. Live out your God-created identity. Love generously and graciously toward others, the way God lives toward you."
-Matthew 5:48
"If you want to give it all you've got," Jesus replied, "go sell your possession, give everything to the poor. All your wealth will then be in heaven. Then come follow me."
-Matthew 19:21
If my mom is lucky she has about twenty - thirty years and with the way my step dad keeps trashing his body he'll be lucky to have anything more then another five to ten years.
Mortality is bizarre, the fact we are limited in life isn't necessarily the most odd thing but coming to grapple with the fact that I will not be living past the 2060's is one strange concept. Stopping to think about it, there is an equal if not greater chance of me dying before then...could be ten years or my heart could stop beating before you are able to finish reading this very sentence.
Insane I have to say.
Insane.
Since we have such a short amount of time left what do we do with it? What point is there to actually utilizing the time for anything? Do we have a greater purpose beyond using the time and circumstances for anything other then our pursuits and our pleasures? When the time comes to give an account for ourselves can we just declare "I am" and hope it works all out?
To a lesser extent that is the greatest tenant of humanism:
"I am, I will be, I will continue. All things exist as they will be. I exist for my will to be done and it will be."
I admit that is a slight over simplification but I think it serves the purpose of discussion.
One of the biggest themes of Christianity, the Bible, the teachings of Christ, however you want to put it, is the death of self serving attitudes.
The Bible does not say human life or the enjoyment of sex and drink is wrong. That is a misconception that can be traced back to stoic philosophies. The real focus Scripture has is that we bring our lives into balance.
"You, therefore, must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect"
-Matthew 5:48
To be honest English as a language sucks. Translating the Bible from Hebrew and Greek is a tricky thing at best and quite frankly I hate most translations.
In the above passage the word 'perfect' would be better translated as complete or whole.
The idea Jesus was trying to convey in Matthew 5 (also know as the Sermon on the Mount for all you would be Rhode Scholars) is that traditional wisdom on religion sucks and it sucks bad. Some ideas concerning traditional wisdom that Jesus said sucked were:
-not murdering people but holding grudges
-not cheating on your spouse but letting your mind and eyes wander onto someone else
-using double speak to avoid the truth
-simply loving your friends and hating your enemies
-Seeking revenge on those who have wronged you
In other words these actions and reactions are not part of who we should be. It is beneath the men and women we were meant to be. Petty fights, senseless passions and worship of the self are all fleeting ideas that never lead to any true satisfaction and a real complete self.
At best it is a cheap fix to giving ourselves meaning.
The typical thought is that 'boys will be boys', 'politicians will lie anyway', 'I can't help how I feel', 'what they don't know won't kill them'...incidentally most of these are actually double speak and ways for people to cling to both an idea of religion while eating their cake (see Revelation 3:16 about being spat about for this kind of thing).
It is not like God's law/rules/whatever make a person worse, it just shows us for who we really are...selfish pricks. The Law acts as an equalizer, making us look at who we really are deep down...flawed humans who are desperately drowning in our own selfish pools of self pity.
Humans aren't necessarily evil, just severally flawed...wait, was that double speak in and of itself?
Point being is that we have limited time and most people use it to indulge what ever we think will make us happy and consequently we put on a smile and are unhappy. The sex, the games, the beer may help us smile a bit but on the inside we are dying.
We may not know why, but we are not content with who we are. I am a Christian and I'm not happy. I struggle with depression and feeling lost and worthless, content saint I am not.
I write poetry that tends to be about life sucking. I keep a blog where I can moan and complain about how unfair life is. I don't just think the glass is half empty, I pour it out onto the floor and slam the glass down on the bar demanding to know where my drink went.
Is this the life I want? Is it a life any of us want? How much real decision do any of us have at any given point?
We can float about to a certain degree but we have monetary obligations. We want so we buy, we want more so we get credit so we can buy more. Or maybe we just screwed over by life and we're left with debt we can't pay.
There is always something waiting around the corner to side line us and get our eyes off the bigger picture.
But at the end of the day we are not responsible for what life does to us, what other humans do to us...but we are responsible for how we react and what it is we do with our responses.
In Matthew 5 Jesus says we should:
-Forgive everyone no matter how badly they hurt us. The deeper the blow the more desperate we are in need of forgiving them and allow healing in our soul.
-Knowing we are human but also knowing that commitment is more important then running ourselves ragged with sexual baggage. The more you expose yourself to that life the less you feel, abandoning yourself to the mercy of pleasure is a sure ticket to Hell on earth.
-The truth may hurt but living a duplicitous life is a way to ensure life long misery.
-Love everyone, it is the only way to make it through life with a shred of sanity. Giving yourself to loving God and then loving others is the only way to find a shred of meaning but...that still has no guarantee.
-A life wasted on vengeance is a life wasted entirely. A heart consumed with hate has no room for love.
Fifty years.
If I am lucky at that.
Decisions that shape me and the future in ways I can never know.
I am responsible only for my actions, no one else.
Every day I choose to either move towards completion or back into chaos.
"In a word, what I'm saying is, GROW UP. You're kingdom subjects. Now live like it. Live out your God-created identity. Love generously and graciously toward others, the way God lives toward you."
-Matthew 5:48
"If you want to give it all you've got," Jesus replied, "go sell your possession, give everything to the poor. All your wealth will then be in heaven. Then come follow me."
-Matthew 19:21
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