Fragment

Something I wrote on the spur of the moment...

Who can harness the thunderous waves by pen?
Certainly not I, nor any man methinks
The swell and blast of whitest froth and glistening peak
Power unspeakable lies behind these machines of nature
Assaulting the shore with the greatest of wrath
Who can set boundries for these great waves?
Not I, nor any man methinks
Yet the line has been drawn and though ceaselessly beating, they shall always adhere.

To a lost friend

Torn friendship
Shreds of a companion
Fraying at the edges
Each day further from mending

Bittersweet memories
Regrets of a child
Lost in a world he thought he understood
Foolish boy, you cling to hard
You bruised the wings of a butterfly
In your wonder at such a thing

The boy will mend
He is silly
The butterfly is lost

Letter to Hollywood

hollywood.. I’m sick and tired of bending to your whims... I quit. I hate feeling that love always has to be sultry and can’t just be pure. I hate the your freaking vile idea of wholesomeness starts and ends with a “hair-parted, shirt tucked, belt wearing, ignorant white guy.” You have no clue what wholesomeness is... or for that matter purity. You parade your sirens before us calling us to their blood feast. Our heros consist of people who don’t give a crap about the right thing but carelessly follow what their emotions tell them to do. I’m tired of rooting for the badass guy. I’m tired of having to take sides with the crook instead of man sworn to serve and protect. Yeah, I understand that life isn’t just black and white, but if you’re going to make it even grayer, think about having some sort of solution. I hate your drivel. I hate your movies that are supposed to make me feel “deep.” Your sedative allows me to rest back into my quiet submission. All the outrage that I should feel about the atrocities are easily erased by my digital outlet. Thanks... but no thanks... I quit. My emotions are not for you to play with. If you have something worthwhile to say, say it. But stop getting me riled for the wrong reasons. I am the guilty one here. I have allowed you to permeate. I am to blame... but no more. I QUIT!!!

God in a Box

Have you ever felt that all the routine of religion built little faith but lots of walls? I find it amusing that so many times I confine my infinite God so perfectly well into my narrow contained mind. So many time God is trying to get my attention but can't because self set parameters won't let Him. It's almost kind of like a Jack in the Box. When you want a little God encounter you turn the handle and... BAM, you have some "God" in your face. So as I usually do when I find out something depressing about myself I wrote a poem. I haven't worked on it since I wrote it but here it is anyway.

Locked in my box
covered by my lies
surrounded by my shame
encased in my stigmas
You're my "god in a box"
self-service savior
emergency hugger
pocket pacifier
king of sunday
and maybe wednesday
left... just in case

If?
Couldn't?
Perhaps?

No, I ask out of duty
Because I should

transition

I love you
show me yourself
oh, god, I need you
to fill... my box

Curtain

Little Big People

I feel like our culture is rife with low expectations and a lack of responsibility... The resulting adolescent immaturity is heart-breaking. Instead of growing into adults that use their wisdom and experience to live a full beautiful fulfilling life, we grow into emotionally unstable, broken, lost, little big people. I wrote a poem after I saw devastation in someone's life because of their lack of self-control and discipline. I felt so horrible... he was just a child in the mind and he was going to suffer the consequences of something so foreign to his world. How could he cope? How could he understand. He now had to embrace manhood in a few brief minutes. He had to be strong when he nothing to fuel his strength. And so I wrote this poem.

little children
with big people clothes
look how they stumble
over the sleeves and legs, too long

tear-stained faces
grubby hands outstretched
before full-grown men

pitiable beings
where is your mother?
if only a slap on the hand sufficed
But you grew up
dear children, take it like men

Ecclesiastes 11:9-10

Another try at an introduction

It is a dangerous thing to give young people, well, at least those such as myself, a blank screen and a keyboard. For if we see a blank screen we simply must fill it up with our words. Not that these words bare listening to or even make sense. I think it is mostly because we enjoy seeing our thoughts written out before us. It touches a certain part of our pride to see our most “magnificent” of ideas laid out before us. Thus, we embark on long winded rants and short petty arguments all for the sake of blowing yet another breath of hot air into that balloon which is our ego. We are idealistic and young and we are most determined to make fools of ourselves. How cute.

So here is my second introduction, for, I believe, my first was lacking a smidgen. (if I continue on in this manner, I will never get past the starting line) I intend for this blog to be a place were I can post my poems, essays, short stories, anecdotes, and other random comments and feel somewhat satisfied that they are out of my system. I will most likely make a fool of myself... And say a large amount of things I don’t mean. But it will be here anyway. I will try my best not to make these things too unbearable to read however and perhaps they may still be of some amusement to you. If you are lucky you may even be able to glean a tad of wisdom (I rather doubt it, but God has used even a donkey to convey his message) or a bit of helpful advice. Anyway, I look forward to where this blog will take me and thank you for spending the time to read it. God bless.

Introduction

First of all, I think I should say that this blog is more for me than for anyone else. It sounds selfish I know, but you must know the truth. If I am faithful enough to keep it going I will most likely use it to ponder things that have little or no meaning for others. I don't know what you will find here. Perhaps it will be a bit of my heart. Take it or leave it. It may be ugly. (I wouldn't be surprised... for pride is one of the hardest stains to wash away) But it will probably be here all the same.

I don't know what you expect out of this blog or why you're reading it, but I pray that it may be a help to you in some little way and that God may always be glorified through it despite my wandering thoughts and deceitful heart. God bless.