My tongue is tired
from being tied up in these investments,
subtle lies I never saw coming
until they blossomed into fruition.
Beginning at this moment's ending
I want to say just
how sick I am
of every falsehood grabbing my heart
and lifting me to despair
just as I begin to fall apart
all over again,
just for words that could never mean...
Crying every tear
and feeling every sigh
I tire of this broken connection
and the static that rips through my mind
with every breath
of this hellish air.
Given wings to fly
I might begin to see
how all of this,
every shred of pain
is from this prison
I built with my hands
and will only die
at the Word of One.
Friday, January 1, 2010
Quote of the Day:
“The price of inaction is far greater than the cost of making a mistake.”
-Meister Eckhart
-Meister Eckhart
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Quote of the Day:
“You can judge the quality of their faith from the way they behave. Discipline is an index to doctrine.”
-Tertullian
-Tertullian
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
I can't remember why...
I need help to even be able to think of why I should wake up...why I am fighting.
I feel...I feel...is that part of the problem?
Seeing those who hurt...it's like it is pulled into my soul...
I'm so tired...so tired...
I'm trying to smile but I'm so tired and I ache so badly right now...
Jesus...please do not leave me here with myself as my only companion.
I need help to even be able to think of why I should wake up...why I am fighting.
I feel...I feel...is that part of the problem?
Seeing those who hurt...it's like it is pulled into my soul...
I'm so tired...so tired...
I'm trying to smile but I'm so tired and I ache so badly right now...
Jesus...please do not leave me here with myself as my only companion.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Early Morning Reflections in the Ice
Levels of goodness and duality mixed with the profound dissatisfaction that comes with expectations being broken upon the harsh paved path of reality.
I cannot express the exact feelings and thoughts that course through my mind, open wounds and curious sights.
Beloved vistas being bathed in disconcerting greens and violets, reasons of being escaping me as the overall meaning gets lost in the pages between reality and the perverse.
Profoundly happy, nihilistic flag waving, thoughts permeate my mind at this hour.
Lack of sleep.
Yes, lack of soul.
I'm addicted to attention and feeling whatever it is my tainted and twisted soul longs for at any given moment. The twisted nethers swirl in movements of hope and the dance of enticing my every last desire.
I want to be freed from this nature that attempts to rip my Love apart. I cannot love, it is impossible for the base nature of my soul and being is perverse hate, born out of rebellion that rejects all good.
I am nothing more than a broken instrument of war longing to kill and destroy.
My only hope is the sacred Lover who knew no sin, who has carried my failures from the heavens, to the earth, to Hell and back to life and reunited with Love.
He took the full cup of the wrath of God, drank of it fully and placed it down and never flinched.
Sin, is so real and is manifest in every lie and lust that tries to own my soul and make me into the fel beast that does nothing but pridefully desires everything that is not mine.
My selfishness threatens to consume me.
But I refuse to become this forsaken.
This mindless beast.
I cannot express the exact feelings and thoughts that course through my mind, open wounds and curious sights.
Beloved vistas being bathed in disconcerting greens and violets, reasons of being escaping me as the overall meaning gets lost in the pages between reality and the perverse.
Profoundly happy, nihilistic flag waving, thoughts permeate my mind at this hour.
Lack of sleep.
Yes, lack of soul.
I'm addicted to attention and feeling whatever it is my tainted and twisted soul longs for at any given moment. The twisted nethers swirl in movements of hope and the dance of enticing my every last desire.
I want to be freed from this nature that attempts to rip my Love apart. I cannot love, it is impossible for the base nature of my soul and being is perverse hate, born out of rebellion that rejects all good.
I am nothing more than a broken instrument of war longing to kill and destroy.
My only hope is the sacred Lover who knew no sin, who has carried my failures from the heavens, to the earth, to Hell and back to life and reunited with Love.
He took the full cup of the wrath of God, drank of it fully and placed it down and never flinched.
Sin, is so real and is manifest in every lie and lust that tries to own my soul and make me into the fel beast that does nothing but pridefully desires everything that is not mine.
My selfishness threatens to consume me.
But I refuse to become this forsaken.
This mindless beast.
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Friday, December 25, 2009
Isaiah 53
Who believes what we've heard and seen? Who would have thought God's saving power would look like this?
The servant grew up before God—a scrawny seedling,
a scrubby plant in a parched field.
There was nothing attractive about him,
nothing to cause us to take a second look.
He was looked down on and passed over,
a man who suffered, who knew pain firsthand.
One look at him and people turned away.
We looked down on him, thought he was scum.
But the fact is, it was our pains he carried—
our disfigurements, all the things wrong with us.
We thought he brought it on himself,
that God was punishing him for his own failures.
But it was our sins that did that to him,
that ripped and tore and crushed him—our sins!
He took the punishment, and that made us whole.
Through his bruises we get healed.
We're all like sheep who've wandered off and gotten lost.
We've all done our own thing, gone our own way.
And God has piled all our sins, everything we've done wrong,
on him, on him.
He was beaten, he was tortured,
but he didn't say a word.
Like a lamb taken to be slaughtered
and like a sheep being sheared,
he took it all in silence.
Justice miscarried, and he was led off—
and did anyone really know what was happening?
He died without a thought for his own welfare,
beaten bloody for the sins of my people.
They buried him with the wicked,
threw him in a grave with a rich man,
Even though he'd never hurt a soul
or said one word that wasn't true.
Still, it's what God had in mind all along,
to crush him with pain.
The plan was that he give himself as an offering for sin
so that he'd see life come from it—life, life, and more life.
And God's plan will deeply prosper through him.
Out of that terrible travail of soul,
he'll see that it's worth it and be glad he did it.
Through what he experienced, my righteous one, my servant,
will make many "righteous ones,"
as he himself carries the burden of their sins.
Therefore I'll reward him extravagantly—
the best of everything, the highest honors—
Because he looked death in the face and didn't flinch,
because he embraced the company of the lowest.
He took on his own shoulders the sin of the many,
he took up the cause of all the black sheep.
The servant grew up before God—a scrawny seedling,
a scrubby plant in a parched field.
There was nothing attractive about him,
nothing to cause us to take a second look.
He was looked down on and passed over,
a man who suffered, who knew pain firsthand.
One look at him and people turned away.
We looked down on him, thought he was scum.
But the fact is, it was our pains he carried—
our disfigurements, all the things wrong with us.
We thought he brought it on himself,
that God was punishing him for his own failures.
But it was our sins that did that to him,
that ripped and tore and crushed him—our sins!
He took the punishment, and that made us whole.
Through his bruises we get healed.
We're all like sheep who've wandered off and gotten lost.
We've all done our own thing, gone our own way.
And God has piled all our sins, everything we've done wrong,
on him, on him.
He was beaten, he was tortured,
but he didn't say a word.
Like a lamb taken to be slaughtered
and like a sheep being sheared,
he took it all in silence.
Justice miscarried, and he was led off—
and did anyone really know what was happening?
He died without a thought for his own welfare,
beaten bloody for the sins of my people.
They buried him with the wicked,
threw him in a grave with a rich man,
Even though he'd never hurt a soul
or said one word that wasn't true.
Still, it's what God had in mind all along,
to crush him with pain.
The plan was that he give himself as an offering for sin
so that he'd see life come from it—life, life, and more life.
And God's plan will deeply prosper through him.
Out of that terrible travail of soul,
he'll see that it's worth it and be glad he did it.
Through what he experienced, my righteous one, my servant,
will make many "righteous ones,"
as he himself carries the burden of their sins.
Therefore I'll reward him extravagantly—
the best of everything, the highest honors—
Because he looked death in the face and didn't flinch,
because he embraced the company of the lowest.
He took on his own shoulders the sin of the many,
he took up the cause of all the black sheep.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Grace Lying in the Snow
Grace.
Living in broken world it feels like a cheap phrase.
It feels like I'm holding a mirror just to have selective vision.
It is the glue holding things together even when I've checked out.
Every word I speak can be proven false
as I hold tight and hope against hope
that every ounce of this is true.
Either the cross is everything or nothing
and my only hope is on this Nazarene.
Outcast and despised, a man of sorrows
who walked this path before me.
I speak of beauty but have never seen it,
I write of hope but have never felt it.
Every last expression of this soul
is lost in this empty religious display.
There is nothing in the manger right now
just as there is nothing in the tomb.
It is a poor man's show
and than we get it put on display
on the street corner
where everyone can see it.
The badge on my sleeve
and the cross around my throat
as I fumble for words
that will never come.
You ask for answers I cannot give,
for my soul is poised to beg in shame
as my mind is but the cornerstone
of this foolish pride.
I have nothing to give.
The only hope I have seen
remains diligently unseen
and the love I have flows
from the heart of the One holding this all.
Trite and vain,
meaningless I have tried
and all I can give are these hands
along with this shaking voice.
It's Christmas time
and Jesus I just wish we could stop the pain.
I'm sick of the fighting, the addictions
and beating ourselves into the ground.
The destitute hungry along with outcast dying of disease,
did you watch me past by the starving beggar
or the prostitute offering tricks for drugs?
Jesus did you see the pride in my heart
as I justify judging
as though Nietzsche was right and You died
just so I can be king?
The Truth is only You
and still I am looking and searching
hoping to find a way to validate my pride.
Words keep sticking in my throat
and I say I do not know
because the Truth terrifies me.
This time of year brings me so much terror
because it faces me to look into history
and see how true truth really is.
You will be You,
eternally now.
The more people try to persuade me otherwise
Your Love is all I can see.
The fire of my doubts will not cease
until I feel the arms of eternity around me
and the nail scarred hands wipe away my tears.
The fear in my soul
and the sin that is a disease
will one day be no more
and I will be freed to love
and love only like one touched by eternity can.
Living in broken world it feels like a cheap phrase.
It feels like I'm holding a mirror just to have selective vision.
It is the glue holding things together even when I've checked out.
Every word I speak can be proven false
as I hold tight and hope against hope
that every ounce of this is true.
Either the cross is everything or nothing
and my only hope is on this Nazarene.
Outcast and despised, a man of sorrows
who walked this path before me.
I speak of beauty but have never seen it,
I write of hope but have never felt it.
Every last expression of this soul
is lost in this empty religious display.
There is nothing in the manger right now
just as there is nothing in the tomb.
It is a poor man's show
and than we get it put on display
on the street corner
where everyone can see it.
The badge on my sleeve
and the cross around my throat
as I fumble for words
that will never come.
You ask for answers I cannot give,
for my soul is poised to beg in shame
as my mind is but the cornerstone
of this foolish pride.
I have nothing to give.
The only hope I have seen
remains diligently unseen
and the love I have flows
from the heart of the One holding this all.
Trite and vain,
meaningless I have tried
and all I can give are these hands
along with this shaking voice.
It's Christmas time
and Jesus I just wish we could stop the pain.
I'm sick of the fighting, the addictions
and beating ourselves into the ground.
The destitute hungry along with outcast dying of disease,
did you watch me past by the starving beggar
or the prostitute offering tricks for drugs?
Jesus did you see the pride in my heart
as I justify judging
as though Nietzsche was right and You died
just so I can be king?
The Truth is only You
and still I am looking and searching
hoping to find a way to validate my pride.
Words keep sticking in my throat
and I say I do not know
because the Truth terrifies me.
This time of year brings me so much terror
because it faces me to look into history
and see how true truth really is.
You will be You,
eternally now.
The more people try to persuade me otherwise
Your Love is all I can see.
The fire of my doubts will not cease
until I feel the arms of eternity around me
and the nail scarred hands wipe away my tears.
The fear in my soul
and the sin that is a disease
will one day be no more
and I will be freed to love
and love only like one touched by eternity can.
Some Things of Note:
-I suck at wrapping gifts. I had little money to buy anything but a few books will have to do for now.
-Spike TV has been running a Star Wars marathon, the prequels are so bad they make my soul sad...but at least the original trilogy brings back many happy memories.
-I'm happy that it's Christmas Eve, I feel anticipation and happiness about being able to fit in somewhere and not feel like I'm some sort of perpetual and utterly useless burden.
-Last week I killed the Christmas tree trying to fix the lights. Finally the darn thing is lit back all the way and I'm about to try and rectify the lack of ornaments before dinner tonight.
-I miss a few things about home but I'm glad I'm leaving to go back to school otherwise I have no idea when I would be going back south.
-Brave Saint Saturn's song "Space Robot Five" has become my temporary theme song.
-Spike TV has been running a Star Wars marathon, the prequels are so bad they make my soul sad...but at least the original trilogy brings back many happy memories.
-I'm happy that it's Christmas Eve, I feel anticipation and happiness about being able to fit in somewhere and not feel like I'm some sort of perpetual and utterly useless burden.
-Last week I killed the Christmas tree trying to fix the lights. Finally the darn thing is lit back all the way and I'm about to try and rectify the lack of ornaments before dinner tonight.
-I miss a few things about home but I'm glad I'm leaving to go back to school otherwise I have no idea when I would be going back south.
-Brave Saint Saturn's song "Space Robot Five" has become my temporary theme song.
Quote of the Day:
“All sin has its being and origin in the fact that man wants to be his own judge. And in wanting to be that, and thinking and acting accordingly, he and his whole world is in conflict with God. It is an unreconciled world, and therefore a suffering world, a world given up to destruction.”
-Karl Barth
-Karl Barth
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Quote of the Day:
“I hold a beast, an angel and a madman in me, and my inquiry is as to their working, and my problem is their subjugation and victory, downthrow and upheaval, and my effort is their self-expression.”
-Dylan Thomas
-Dylan Thomas
Bitterly Venom Lies
I'm sorry but I must say no.
I refuse to compromise my soul
and give free reign
with the power of control
to the likes of you.
Love is merely a currency
in your vernacular
and every form of your kindness
is just another Hellish smile.
Take the knives out of their backs
and feel free
to fall on them
and rid the world
of just another lying voice
and join your father,
the one who speaks in serpent tongues.
I refuse to compromise my soul
and give free reign
with the power of control
to the likes of you.
Love is merely a currency
in your vernacular
and every form of your kindness
is just another Hellish smile.
Take the knives out of their backs
and feel free
to fall on them
and rid the world
of just another lying voice
and join your father,
the one who speaks in serpent tongues.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
