Life Of Vanity

No Sympathy for the Devil

2011-12-13T17:04:00.000-08:00

You couldn't see the wood from the tree. Your eyes are unkind so don't look at me. You are all that I want but nothing that I need. Time and time again I called you a friend. How many times will it take till I see, the slave from the free?

Will this be the end of you and me?
Will this be the end of you and me?

Millions of rocks is really just sinking sand. Yet another blow I suffer from your hand. Show me again what you have to offer. Show me again what you've planned for me. Today I will stand as you pass me by, and you will ask why. Shaking your head with a smile. Knowing we will meet again in a short while.

"He will see, that he needs me"
"He will see, that he needs me"

Still falling, I suffer you, sadly. Searching for a break through badly. Slipping faster and faster like a landslide. Flirting between disaster and a good time. I see my old friend just as bright as day. Sitting in the dark corner smiling away. Willingly I open the door and invite him in. He takes my hand and showers me with sin.

"We meet again my old friend"
"We meet again"

Giving in, Giving in

I have a question. Who are you?.....Who are you?

Is it what you claim or what you say?
Or is it what you do and how you play?

Even if it's pain that I feel, at least I'll know that I'm real. Finally finding a break through. There sparks a desire to kill you. In the morning I will prepare. When I wake I will not allow you to scare, the fight out of the man. I take my sword in hand.

"Well done good and faithful"
"Well done..."

Cabernet of a Lonely Soul

2011-11-06T21:09:00.000-08:00

You only know what I want you to. I wish you knew me. I can't love you , you can't love me. Your eyes can't see what I fear they may. What I dream they will. Dance with me under the stars, sit with me under the moonlight. Know that my touch means more then ones before. Forever am I in this prison? Just sing with me and help me forget the cage that surrounds me. Oh dance with me, baby forgetful me. Please hold me.
If I came to you lonely , would you let me lie in your lap, or would I fool you like the rest? Hold me near as you draw near, a countless pain across my face. Forever know, that love will grow if my heart you will embrace. Drink with me now, something to remember the beautiful. Keeping close, the things you "forgot". I'll keep you still, I will rock you to sleep. Sleep with me now.

"Those who find beautiful meanings in beautiful things are cultivated. For these there is hope. They are the elect to whom beautiful things mean only Beauty.....Those who go beneath the surface do so at their peril. Those who read the symbol do so at their peril." Oscar Wilde

"It is the consumer, not the author, whom interprets the meaning of words written. For each it may be different, for few it may be the same" Caleb Parker Suciu

Scared I'm not Scared

2011-10-16T19:49:00.000-07:00

She started chipping away with her eyes. It was no surprise, I started crumbling
It could be something deep inside, similar to the time it died, I knew she was something
Prediction from the past, I'd be in trouble from the last, but this one doesn't feel the same
This times sorrows gunna loose, she's got a pocket full of choose, and she knows my name

I'm scared, I'm not scared
Kiss me on the lips say nothin at all
I'm scared, I'm not scared
Push me off the edge I'm ready to fall

The road is long, but she is strong, I probably will never comprehend
Her beauty inside, reflects the one outside, only one matters in the end
Growing old, are stories told, But she is young now
A peek in her past, is as long as it lasts, for few she will allow

I'm scared, I'm not scared
Hold my hand and walk with me
I'm scared, I'm not scared
Listen to my eyes, see what they see

Scared, I'm not scared

Cain and Able

2011-09-19T18:45:00.000-07:00

It was far away. Yet now what was on the fringe has reached the surface. I ponder choices and schools of thought. My eyes have been closed when I have claimed sight. The signs point to foolishness. How beautiful it is to not know. The beauty of love, that has not betrayed. It has set me free

Forgive me now I do not know
The chance I have to make it grow
Through the light I see it's chance
I grab it, and choke the life with my hands
Lay it down slow as it begins to die
Not a tear I shed I will not cry

I wanted to know what it was like to destroy. Mcbeath! Mcbeath! Please bring me water. I can not be blamed. It was not my fault. You have driven me to this. You placed the knife in my hand. Please forgive me the life I have taken. I do not know the depth I have caused.

It felt me then and I feel it now
The quiet sin. I have kept unbenounced
My weakness is something I hold near
The one and only thing that I fear
There are so many things I have left unsaid
As a coward I walk, and hang my head

Weight

2011-06-27T21:03:00.000-07:00

It falls hard, through the incessant reminder of where I am. Like many before me I am in a familiar place. It is a gift to be able to see beauty in the grayest of circumstances. A gift I often wish someone would give me. The lights of the city are heavy. I try to run from them but escape is futile. I learn to bear the weight. I position myself in a way of optimal "comfort". As I sweat bearing the weight of the incandescent rays of the city I realize I am not alone. Somewhere out there, there must be another fighting against the urge to buckle. His knees shaky, sweat dripping down her face, a tear of both sadness and pain passes his cheek. We are a multitude of armies of one.

Snapshots of those discharged flash past my eyes. I am torn between want of one or the other. I fear that it is probably like a lot of other things. When in one location all you can think of is what it is like in an opposing one. God must cry when He see's that. He must long to scream and just point out the obvious that He see's. However He is wise, therefore He says nothing. For a child does not learn to walk by having their father move their legs. No, he lets go of the seat of the bike, and never has a pocket vacant of band-aids.

Weapon of Choice

2011-05-17T20:40:00.000-07:00

I have taken a hiatus from writing. this was intentional for a few reasons. One simple reason was I didn't have much to say. Well, not anything I had wished to make known to others. The more compelling reason for my recent silence was because of something Thoreau said. "How vain it is to sit down to write when you have not stood up to live." I do not want to ever sit to write when it is apropos to stand. I have learned that written word, while extremely powerful, is equally if not more dangerous. Words cut deep and quick. If the speaker takes lightly the placement and timing of his dagger he suffers the innocent and the fragile. As we grow in wisdom our words will become few. The more one uses his words, the less they will mean.

" When words are many, sin is not absent, but he who holds his tongue is wise."

The threat of words is equally real to the author as it is to the received. I believe that words can be pacifism in disguise. They [words] are a complacent creature and therefore should be treated with caution. A man may think that he is taking action when drawing a pen instead of a sword, however he may be scripting his own downfall. I accept the camouflage of my friend, and I hold him with a loose fist. If need be I will drop my pen, never to pick it up again. I thank God I have not been called to that yet. I do still have use for this tool, and will probably use it until I die....however: before you speak, before you write, remember....

"No one means all he says, and yet very few say all they mean, for words are slippery and thought is viscous." -Henry Adams-

Pseudo Sapient

2011-02-28T20:20:00.000-08:00

The subsequential life has tired me. It seems the periods that linger the longest are in the pits of life. Probably because we expend so much energy to exit them ourselves. However I never fail to fail. Excited by some new auspicious thing. Hopes rise, scenarios are formed, and dreams are indulged. When in reality you have made something out of nothing. When this clarity hits it explodes the scenarios from the core. Scintillating into countless ash that removes more dirt from your pit. I haven't seemed to find a medium. A middle ground from being so naively extravagant and being to chary. I think perhaps you may only have the two options. One or the other. Each poses its own difficulty. To be so cavalier that something amounts to nothing, or to be so eager the carriage gets ahead of the horse.

O think I know the key. The gains of Wisdom. There are only two ways to gain wisdom. The first is by trial and error. The most important aspect being the error. This way is effective but very costly. Scars are left behind and often times, as is with our nature, scars lay on top of scars. The second way to gain wisdom is to listen to someone older and wiser then you. someone who has sat in many pits before you and has gotten out of them. Perhaps dirty, bloody, and broken but nevertheless succeeded. With this epiphany I am going to set my pencil down and go read the words of men who went before me....

The Problem of Pain

2011-01-07T17:36:00.000-08:00

Beneath the sands of time I now search. Picking up grains of the life I have lived so far. I don't know how I should feel. Nostalgic perhaps. I feel like I have grown old, just when I got the hang of being young. But as the great Dr. Seuss said "Do not cry because it is over, smile because it happened." Searching through pictures of old, I wish I could do it again. Often times I wish for a mulligan. Others I just wish to relive. It is funny how some of the people you least expect to still be there are still there, and some of the ones that swore allegiance are gone. I can not blame them. Without a doubt I am an absent person who has sworn allegiance in someone else's life. Anger has never been an emotion I carry closely towards another. (To myself is a different story.) This brings to light the problem of pain that is manifested by those come and gone. How do you deal with it? Some more constructively then others. Some pretend it is never there; bury it down deep to never be addressed or resolved. Then they wonder why it hurts so much to breathe. They walk through life unconsciously yet consciously with hurt written on their faces. In their smile, laughter, and tears it is evident. They just hope, they pray, that some day someone special will recognize it. They hope someone will ask the question they have been dying to hear.

I have a thought (as I typically do) on the problem of pain. Embrace it like a brother. When it knocks on your door welcome it gladly. Pain is one of the greatest assurances we have in knowing that we are aliens of this world. "God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pain: it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world" - C.S. Lewis. When I say the word home what does it mean to you? Warmth, beauty, comfortable, familiar? Does it mean dysfunction, abuse, failed expectations, hurt, pain? If you are reading this and never felt pain at home, I encourage you to check your pulse. Pain is nothing more then an alarm that something is wrong. Something has been set out of place. Something is not as it is meant to be. I plea with you to challenge that pain. Do not merely rub it, until it goes away. Do not pass it off as norm. Challenge it with why. Why do I hurt?

Quite simply, you are not yet truly at Home.

" Your soul has a curious shape because it is a hollow made to fit a particular swelling in the infinite contours of the Divine substance, or a key to unlock one of the doors in the house with many mansions." - C.S. Lewis

Lost and Found

2011-01-06T08:32:00.000-08:00

He dreweth in the Earth and leaves that which he sought
Today will be the start of change he thought
A path of wonder, excitement dreamt
He set out with no letters sent.
"They will miss me, oh what they will say,
When e'er I return to speak my tale some day"

Like the breeze moves fallen leaves he set out on his way
The people not miss him, not a woman kiss him as he fell a stray

Not long after his journey on, miss fortune struck him thin
Far from home he had wandered, still no one thought of him
Fear and doubt plagued his mind, to his knees he fell and screamed
But the ears at home had turned deaf to him it seamed

Under a tree at the top of a hill, he sat with his hands at his side,
All alone far from home, he breathed his last and died.

Much like he are some of yee, weary and lost
Fear and doubt come about like a winter frost

Not like he death alone must be your fate
There is a light that saves a life, a gift you must take

For not like he who died under the tree, He was nailed upon
To save a life, He gave a life. A pauper to a pawn.

-anonymous

When Good Becomes Bad

2010-11-14T20:26:00.000-08:00

To my fellow Christian,

In the recent days my mind has been pondering the calling of those who have been saved by Christ. If this not apply to you I warn that proceeding will most certainly result in confusion, yet I find it [confusion] an underrated state of being. The purpose of our lives, which are not our own, is quite simple. Yet in our humanistic way we have turned that which is simple into very complex. I think mostly in part to multiple divisions of subgroups which are mostly governed by their own set of idealistic views. From this we have spawned many secs of religions. I do not have the knowledge nor the time to argue any of these divisions. I do however wish to "get back to basics" if you will and define that which I believe is so simple. Also to give a warning to my brother and sister on what I believe to be one of our greatest threats.

The base line foundation of what a follower of Christ's calling should be is to reflect the image of Christ as if we are a mirror; to those unsaved and saved around us. When we were dead in ourselves, in our transgressions, the image we portrayed was dark and filthy. The blood of Christ washed the filth to reveal a beautiful mirror. Often times the things that are most beautiful lie under the greatest amount of filth.

I now wish to warn you of the greatest threat to that reflection. You must be aware of anything that will spot that reflection. The culprit of the tarnished reflection is almost always something good. Beware the warning signs. Beware the successful life. Beware the hurried lifestyle. Beware the pursuit of "happiness". Beware the long awaited relationship, job, clothes, position. Beware the entertainment. Beware habits. If what you reflect does not mirror Christ get out the Windex and a rag, get on your knees, and scrub. Always be checking your mirror for possible stains. If you do find a stain, never have a grip on that good thing to tight to not be able to let go.

Autumn Leaves

2010-10-10T20:12:00.000-07:00

Upon the breeze, the autumn leaves
Are carried thither, yon:
They rest at last, upon the grass
One moment...then they're gone.
They're tossed about and in and out
They fly across the way;
And up and down, they sail around-
The wind they must obey.

Now, if you please, the autumn leaves
Are much like most of us;
We're tossed about by fear and doubt
And things we rare discuss.
This need not be, for you and me-
There is a surer way;
The solid Rock, will bear the shock
No matter what the fray.

He who believes is not like leaves
That drift with every wind,
His faith is fixed, in God unmixed
With doubts that Satan sends.
He walks with God, while earth he trods
He's led by pow'r divine;
When life is through, beyond the blue
He'll dwell in lands sublime.

-Carl C. Williams, Sr.

Before the curtain falls

2010-09-12T16:48:00.000-07:00

I write to you with the utmost importance. To you the reader of my words, the consumer of my thoughts. To you who have been given a peep hole into my mind. I write to you now. I appeal to you, do not take my words lightly. If nothing I have said before resonates let this be it. If one page is dogeared fold this one down. It is the most important thing I will ever be able to share.

My writings have all come from a very deep quiet part of me. As often many writers do they assume different characters. These characters may often have opposing views to that of the human that flicks their pen to create them. I believe there is beauty in that. In the process of interpretation of the true meaning by the reader. Almost like a play where the final act is taken place in the vehicles of the audience on the way home. The curtain is not let down until those watching the performance have performed the act of interpretation. I now give you this. A one act play that has no hidden meaning. Zero fine print, and houses 100% of the authors heart and devotion. This is my greatest piece of work and simplest truth.

We are all damned and have earned the right of eternal judgement in a very fiery eternal grave. Do not fear, for I have found the one and only truth that will exclude you from such a fate. It is not a brilliant revelation or of original thought. Yet as simple as it has been made it seems to be unacceptable in our minds. If we must pay a price for our evil, and that price is our lives, the only thing possible to pay that price is with a life. I have found the one man that can give his life in order to save yours and mine. A man who had no evil inside of him. A man so holey he shines like the sun. The son of the one and only true God. A man who's name is Jesus the Christ and has saved me from me.

He is perfect and without evil. His struggle while on earth is inexplicable. It is to Him that I am eternally grateful. It is to Him and for Him why I write. It is because of Him I am alive. For He rescued me while I was dead and breathed new life into me. In my writings you may be able to point to a blind man, a sick man, a sceptical man. These are all scenes from a play I have lived out. Scenes that end with the blind having sight, the ill becoming whole, and the sceptic with unwavering belief. All of these characters are without a doubt me. However when the curtain falls and the final act begins the characters go back stage, wash the masks off of their faces, fall on their knees, and pray to God He will lead the audience to the right conclusion.

Audience I am now giving you the final act. There is no car ride discussion needed for this play. Merely acceptance of a gift that is freely given to all. Acceptance of Christ that finally gives you what I know you have been searching for.

The breath of life breathed into your dead lungs.

"He who believes in Him is not judged; he who does not believe has been judged already, because he has not believed in the name of the only begotten Son of God."

If today were forever

2010-09-06T21:39:00.000-07:00

If today were forever I would play the piano.
Every key pressed with purpose and meaning.
Never landing out of turn or out of place.

If today were forever I would walk until my knees hurt.
Through the grass and fallen leaves.
Underneath the trees until lost felt like home.

If today were forever I would sing a song.
A slow song, maybe a little sad and a little happy.
A song that said 'I love you" but never said the words.

If today were forever I would steel a kiss.
A kiss that was neither short nor long.
A kiss that belongs in the movies, and then I would run away.

If today were forever I would sit by the ocean at sun set.
I would smoke a pipe,
And let my mind try to contemplate the beauty.

If today were forever I would laugh and I would cry.
I would yell and I would whisper. I would build and tear down.
I would wake and I would sleep.

Let today be today,
And let tomorrow be forever

Perfect Love Casts Out All Fear

2010-05-10T19:44:00.000-07:00

For some time the words I have written have been interpreted, by the few that have read them, as bitterness. I have recently gone over the pros of my youth and I see that interpretation is correct. For reasons that I wish to be discreet about my view towards women has been that of disdain. I wish now to change that pattern in my writings for it has without a doubt changed in my mind. I do however want to make one point before I continue. While I do believe my previous views were wrong I do not regret the path that has brought me to my present state. However misguided I was God spared me from many snares and falls in a very fragile time of my life.
In order to disprove something I must initially clarify that which I am now arguing against. Not so many years ago I openly loathed women. They were the butt of my jokes and they were the organism of which I blamed all of my problems. For that I must now pause and apologize. I am truly sorry. I believed women to be seductive, lying, fake, dumb, and the most cruel of creatures. While women can be all of these things they are not subject strictly to women nor do I have any right to judge or generalize for I too have been all of these things. At the time I did not see myself for who I really was...the lowest of the low, the most sinful of sinners. When you live in darkness there is no light cast onto you to show who you really are. One of the most distinctive characteristics of someone who is living in darkness (sin) is how quick they are to judge others. If we see ourselves for who we really are no offense against us will seem great, for it will be overshadowed by the light that shows our multitude of sins.
As my paper is limited, my sins are many, and I see no benefit in visiting my past sins, you will have to take my word that darkness was the path I chose for a while. My dislike towards women was fueled by sin, however it was not the primary source of my disdain. I will reveal what was but with the preface that it is of extreme difficulty for 3 reasons. The first is that it scrapes at some wounds that lay deep and despite the scars that cover them I still feel some sensation of pain. Secondly because I have rarely been this open and honest about this subject. Lastly because it shows one of my greatest weaknesses and fears. My greatest reason for my hatred towards women was because of the power a woman seemed to have over me when I let them come close. I know you may be thinking this is no new thing or secret. Let me explain further what I mean by this.
When I was very young I gave my heart to a woman. By no ones fault but my own. This young girl and I dated for 6 years. Six years that I see now as extremely pivotal in my life. For reasons I will not indulge in detail I chose to end this relationship. The pain that I felt from the tearing apart was something I can not begin to describe. However this pain is still not the reason I hated women. The reason I hated women and kept them at an arms distance for so long was because I hated myself for what I did to her. The immense pain that I caused her made me hurt inside to the point of not eating for weeks. The promises I broke, and the lies I told all destroyed who I was inside. I still remember the day as if it were a nightmare that continues to visit me. I remember what she wore, I remember the words that were yelled, I remember the things that were thrown, and worst of all I can still picture the face that starred back at me. That day took such a toll on my life that I subconsciously decided to hate every woman that came my way with some sort of interest in me. I never wanted to hurt someone the way that I did her ever again.
This defense has evolved since then to take different shapes. Now at 23 and many losses in love I know now what it means and how to love someone. To truly love someone is to sacrifice. To give up what is closest to you for the other person because you LOVE them. For me, ultimately in a weird way, that means to let go of my fear and get close enough to hurt someone again.
So to those who were worried my bitterness had corrupted me beyond repair I pray this convinces you otherwise. I have been more honest about me with these words then I ever have before. With that I also hope you use this knowledge not for an arrow in a quiver with my name on it, but for maybe a better understanding of yourself. What kind of a man would I be if I held a secret or parable that could help my fellow man to myself for fear he may use it against me? A coward. I have been a coward for to long. I have been afraid far to many years. For perfect love casts out all fear.

The Sad Man's Song

2010-04-07T20:58:00.000-07:00

I lay quietly to hear my own voice
It has slowly faded to a whisper
I'm sorry I have no other choice
It has faded, I can barely remember

The sounds of silence pierce my ears
A mother cries without understanding
A Lover's love for a thousand years
A haters hate that is so demanding

The clock ticks my life away
The future's coming, the past is going
I gaze at Sundown another day
She has my heart without even knowing

A sinners blood flows through my veins
Hell is full and she's waiting for me
Before she takes me I try in vain
To give back the fruit I stole from the tree

Knowledge of Good and Evil, is bad
The lone man stood amongst the crowd, so sad

From Heaven to hell the blind now see
A man that never fell now hung on the Tree

Never Never Land

2010-01-30T00:33:00.000-08:00

Not much good happens so deep into the night, but I made a promise. I made a promise to a friend that I would write more. That I would try to make more sense of thoughts and musings and try to place them into words. Not a small task for my small brain but I believe the promise had something to do with a pinkie. From what I hear that is the most prestigious of promises, something that I do not wish to ever breach.

Despite the fact that it goes against my better judgement (which I was surprised to know I had any) to talk about that which is on my mind tonight I am going to do so any way. One thing that I seem to have always had in excess is an imagination. Something that a man named Mr. Rodgers told me was the greatest thing in the world and it could take me anywhere. You could call it naivety but I believed 100 percent a man who's first name I swear to this day is Mr. I also to this day still believe the man the same 100 percent as I did long or not so long ago. Although now the theology that has been instilled in me from the man named Mr has been proceeded by that of a street on sesame, a station for imagining, and most of all a never never land.

It is the never land that I wish to indulge further. It is a place that I visit often even in the extended years of my so called youth. I only feel like I look young. Which is part of the reason why my never never land knows my face so well. It is a place like none other. Where the young edify the old , and in turn the old turn young. I guess as you get older you forget how to ride a bike, play a superhero, run fast, and just do nothing without the worry of what you should be doing.

I know that upon writing this I have without a doubt caused some to react with thoughts of certain insanity. For those who so apply I have but only two rebuttals. If you think me insane for traveling to never land although you may be right I find you unbelievably dull and your tedious life bores me. Secondly if sanity is reached by never visiting the one place that has never changed since my youth then I am A O K with being insane.

Just Give it Some Time

2009-12-16T14:34:00.000-08:00

Quite often I have written of matters of time. It seams time is one thing that has not been on my side. At least not yet. It seams time in and of itself is one of the only constants. The only thing in life that is guaranteed. Each day takes 24 hours, each hour takes 60 minutes, and each minute is slowly yet quickly pushed forward by a universal second. The time that goes by is inevitable. It is the same now as it has ever been. Have you ever sat and listened to a clock tick? The sound is unmistakable. Often times it ticks in our heads without us even realizing it. We tap our feet to a song, or walk in a steady pace. Time is the one thing everyone has in common. There is no language barrier to surpass, there is no foreign element. It is the one thing we can all agree on.

What if it changed? What if for some; time was spent much faster. What if for some; time stood still. Would everything we know fall apart. Would chaos tear apart our world. For those who experienced this would we label them as insane? Or would we call those people, the ones that see time move more slowly. The ones that find it hard to breathe in between each second. The people who finally stop hearing the ticking of the clock. Would we call them in love?

A look into my eyes

2009-12-12T21:07:00.001-08:00

A wrinkle in time is all that is left. The piano playing in the background. I wish I knew what it means. The eyes are the only thing that is true. I thought I knew them well, but I fear they have learned to betray me. I study them quietly. A dim gray behind a sea of blue. It is hard to translate speech that has no words. I thought I had it figured out. I thought I knew when and why it rained. And in turn why they reflected the sun so brightly. But now I feel as if the change behind those eyes is as mysterious as the day I first looked at them. Perhaps it is because they know me better then I myself know me. They have seen me when I was a child. They see me now. Nothing I have done has ever escaped their gaze. It must be futile to try and fool them. To try and deceive. I now humbly surrender; to your eyes.

Ready to go Home

2009-11-18T13:45:00.000-08:00

Please hear my cry oh Lord. Hear the prayers of an unworthy man. Why did you create us with such passion? I know the answer to my own question yet still it does not keep me from asking. I do not question your passion when I stare at a painting, when I hold a child, or when lovers kiss. But now I do. When the passion is fleeting and it leaves behind suffering it is hard to remember what it used to bring. Lord please take my suffering. I know there is glory in the suffering I just want to be finished. Please if it be your will take it now. Come back tonight and take me home. To a place where no thief can steel, no fire can burn, and no woman can kill. I am so tired of the chain sin has around me. I long for a day when lust no longer controls my mind. Please Lord come back now. Sound your trumpet and lay waste to this Eden that we have so perfectly destroyed.

Please Father take me home.

The People Close To Us Have To Die, How Else Will We Know How Much They Mean To Us?

2009-07-30T20:01:00.000-07:00

It was a bright sunny Thursday. The July heat just made me remember how I hated the winter. I found myself sitting in a church with a suit and tie on waiting to bury my Aunt. Death had knocked on my door again and this time it was far to soon.
Funerals are interesting things. People who you have never met come from long and far to pay respect to those who have lost. Funerals are full of hugs, tears, laughs, food, more tears, more hugs and then if God willing; sleep. As I sat in the front row of the church just an arms reach away from the body that carried my Aunts soul I saw love for what it really is. I saw it stripped of all its fancy and its frills. The only time this can happen, truly happen, is in death. I watched closely the face of my now widowered uncle. He had been married to my Aunt for many years. this once hardened mans man, this man that I only new as fierce business man, and independent of soul as I have ever met had completely crumbled. The loss of his wife had broken him into more pieces then he knew he had, and he gave no effort to try to place them back together. Between hugs and acceptance of deepest gratitude and condolences he could only smile. It was a smile that barely raised the corners of his mouth and was paired with as teary eyed as eyes can get without crying. I studied his face for the longest time. At the end of the service a slide show of he and my Aunts life together played across the large video screen. In the background of the slide show an Elvis Presley song softly played. The chorus sang "I can't help falling in love with you." I watched as my uncle mouthed the words over and over with the song as tears flew down his weathered cheeks. It was the first time I had ever seen my uncle cry. As I watched Him an emotion grew within me that I did not expect or plan for. ENVY! This was true love, shown only through loss, only through death, and I wanted it. I wanted to love someone so much that I just couldn't help falling in love with them. That a piece of me goes when they leave and that I am complete when they stay. It seams so rare to find.

I think that the scariest part about it is that my uncle didn't know he had it until the day she died.

Vacation

2009-05-13T00:33:00.000-07:00

Restless, I can't sleep. I have run away to Texas for a while. I ran away with the knowledge of that my problems will still be there when I return. But I don't care. I am sitting on a porch listening to nature, writing by the shaky light of a candle. My problems are not here and they can wait. I did not run in search of clarity for I knew I would not find it. I did not run in hopes that I would return to changed circumstances for I knew my circumstances would wait for me. I ran because I needed to run. I have been at this long enough to know when and how far I need to run. I do not expect to find some revelation that I have been missing. What I have expected to find is peace. I have found what little I can. I would be lying if I said I wasn't expecting more. But more hasn't come and that's the way it is.

One thing I have found is that serenity comes with work, not laziness. The moments of peace that have come, have come when sweat has been falling from my brow. The times of rest and relaxation have been the times where I have remembered most what I have run from. I just hope that in my run home I achieve the wisdom needed to deal with my circumstances. that is all I really truly want. Wisdom. Maybe I'll find wisdom in Texas. Huh or maybe the wind will blow out my shaking light.

Slow Motion Monday

2009-05-13T00:04:00.000-07:00

It's a slow motion Monday. Everything is so punctual. Music has pierced my ears to a depth never before. The wind that hit me seemed to lift me off the ground. Just for a second, but a slow motion second. I feel like God has been walking around with me all day. I've never seen Him before so every corner I turn my anxiety increases, as I expect to meat Him. Maybe He's in the wind that lifts me, in the music that carries me, in the imagination that has taken me to my hearts desire. Today I saw God as I ran along the beach as the sun rose. The wind pushing me to run farther. The music numbing the pain of my burning thighs. Then without warning the wind changed directions and brought me to a sudden stand still. For a slow motion second I stood there starring, searching. I can't describe the beauty. And in a slow motion second it was gone

Writing in Circles

2009-05-12T23:50:00.001-07:00

The tears are gone, I am not really sure why. They used to come so quickly before. I don't understand why they have left. Have I changed? I can't tell if I like it. When the tears were here I never felt more alive. I never felt more different. I love different. I hope; I pray that this does not mean I am like everyone else. I hate everyone else. What now sets me apart? Do I have to be set apart? Yes I do! Is this the final thing that I must give up? Has my quest for originality become the motive behind all of my actions? Everything points to an answer of yes. But is that so bad? I want to be different is that wrong? I don't know. I think that it might be. I think it is wrong because I want to be different for my own selfish reasons. I want people to look at me and scratch their heads. I want when I die for people to cry. Not Because they are sad, but because they don't know what to say. The confusion inside them of not knowing how to describe me, I want it to drive them to tears. I want it to manifest an emotion inside of them that they have never felt and can not explain. I want them to feel like what it's like to be me for just a little bit. Now we are back to tears. Its ironic that tears are what I have defined myself as. Now that they are gone I feel undefined. That is a horrible feeling. So horrible it might make me cry. Instead I am just laughing . Sometimes I feel like life is walking in circles. Circles of selfishness. That is all I am and all everyone will ever be. The silver lining, EVERYONE is selfish. How very unoriginal. Now I'm crying. Because once again I am back to the Life Of Vanity.

Amazing Grace

2009-05-12T23:41:00.000-07:00

I don't understand why. I know that why is the most dangerous of questions because the answer brings to light the motives behind the action. But I want to know. I understand the consequence of asking why and I sincerely want to know.

I know you aren't going to tell me, because many who have asked before have still not been answered, but you had to know that wouldn't keep me from asking.

Why me?

There is no way I ever deserve it. I know, I know its undeserved, but I really do not deserve grace. Amazing doesn't even begin to explain it. Please take me home soon. I want to thank you in person. I want to hug you, I want to place my hands in the holes that were made. I want to feel the pain that I caused you to bear. I want to lay at your feet because that is what you deserve.

A Fire Within

2009-05-12T23:18:00.000-07:00

I fear my own being is going to be my undoing. That witch is inside of me is going to cause my own destruction. It is like a fire that burns within my heart, and if it is not controlled it will consume me. There in lies my paradox. Should I learn to control that which is inside of me, or should I give in and perish in the flames that threaten me. Some days I want desperately to control it, and others I just want to be consumed. I have found a way to temporarily numb the spread of this fire. Laughter, friends, games, work, they all distract me from....me. But like a fool returns to his folly, I return to myself. The fire rages up inside me more rapid and deadlier then before. I have awakened a sleeping giant within my soul. I fear I do not have what it takes to slay this giant.

Where can I run? Where can I hide from myself? Every corner I turn the giant is there. Every mirror I stare into my greatest enemy stares right back. Does anyone else experience this? Is there anyone out there that feels like I do? Or am I alone? I don't think I'll ever really know. The main emotion manifested by war against oneself is solitary. Isn't that the point?

You have no peace with yourself. Is that not the very definition of being alone? I know that everyone feels alone. I don't know what this emotion is. I have no words for it. I am not lonely because no one is with me. I do not mind that kind of aloneness at all. I feel alone because I am not with me. How is that possible? Beyond some mental disease I don't believe it is possible to explain not being with yourself.

Perhaps I am so ..........no that makes no sense. Perhaps I am loosing my mind. Perhaps the fire has spread a little further then I have thought.

I wish the fire weren't so cold.

Untitled

2009-03-25T23:19:00.000-07:00

This one's about the truth. The truth of a broken man

The truth about the tears. The tears that he cries again.

He's walked this road before. He's walked it alone. One step after another. As his scattered pieces are left along the familiar road

Scream. All he wants to do is Scream

Believe. He wants to believe

This one's about a story. A story of the doubtful man

They say its all a part. A part of a master plan.

He hears the words again. A different mouth yet just as breakable. Breaking broken pieces. How many times?

Take. Take till there's nothing

Forget. Forget the unforgettable.

This one's about the Exodus. The journey of the man.

The hour glass of his journey, Slowly sinking sand.

He never knew he could be consumed. Consumed by such a cold fire. He always knew, knew he would be consumed. It was just a matter of how many grains of sand.

Fight. Fight the ones worth fighting

Walk. Just walk away

Can't, An impossible command

Sleep, equally unattainable

Was it true? Was it true?

Where are you?

Stupid is as Stupid does

2009-01-27T20:57:00.000-08:00

I have never stared at an empty sheet for so long. It was as if the white canvas looked back at me and mocked me. I knew exactly what I wanted to say but for some reason I could not get my hand to move my pen. I now fight through the silence. I spill my ink on this pure white canvas. I now mock it with my written words. It is something that everyone wants and I really mean everyone. It is not just a word that I throw around so thoughtlessly as it has been in the past. I write the word everyone with the knowledge of the gravity that the word brings. Everyone wants to love and be loved.

I have seen far too many times in my young life men and women do incredibly stupid things for love. Myself included. Is it really worth it? Is love worth the pain? I am not sure that I will ever know. For those who do not have it focus every part of their being to find it. And there is only a select few that have chosen to not seek after it. These individuals are those that have been so scarred by previous lovers that their opinion on the subject is void due to personal bias against love. But what opinion on love is not personal? Either you have been hurt by it so many times that you have given up entirely to try and find it or you have been deprived it for so long that you long after it with everything inside of you. Your heart cries out just wishing, praying, hoping someone will answer. Why did God create us this way? Why did He even take the rib from Atom? Did he know that the pain from taking the rib would not compare to the love he felt from Eve? Is that the answer to my question? Perhaps every person, everyone, feels the pain of the part, the rib that is taken from them to form a bond with another. Some have lost more ribs then others. For some the scars have not yet healed. For some it is not worth another stupid act. It is not worth another rib. I think I am ready. I am done fighting against the way God has made me. He is much wiser then I. He made her for a purpose, and he has given me more then one rib. I guess he knew that I wouldn't get it right with the first one.

Some Day

2008-11-17T21:42:00.000-08:00

"Some Day" are the words you said

The conversation will never leave my head

you said "some day I'll understand."

Understand why you left me alone, with outstretched hands.

All I wanted was you to turn around and come back my way

But I'm still here trying to figure out "Some day"

Cause life has ups

life has downs

life has smiles and life has frowns

Lord I pray, that today is "some day"

The time we spent together now seems like a whisper

So fragile and so very tender

Your front porch in December is a cold and lonely place.

Slowly realizing that this is a waste.

It was a Tuesday when I finally walked away.

A Tuesday, that was "some day"

Life has ups and life has downs

Life has smiles and life has frowns

Lord I pray, that today, will be "some day"

When God is Silent

2008-11-15T13:42:00.000-08:00

As Christmas nears the wants and desires of a persons heart will come to light. Presents will be wrapped and cookies will be eaten. Joy to the world, right. But what if you don't get what you want? This problem is not just a Christmas issue. What happens in life when you don't get what you want? Something that is without a doubt good, and you pray and long for it and still do not get it. Will your faith in God fade as quickly as the house on the sand, or will it stand firm like the house on the rock. Will you curse God when you ask for something and he says no? Or even when we plead with God for something and he gives you the exact opposite? Or will you still praise his name even in the darkest of holes and the loneliness of times?

"God is most glorified when we are most satisfied in the midst of suffering"

Is it possible that the goodness of God is displayed in the trials we go through? Is it possible that man would never look heavenward if everything was perfect? Maybe just maybe the goodness of God has to let evil do its thing in order for you to find life beyond what you can see taste, touch, or hear. Anyone can believe in a God that acts like a genie in a bottle and when you ask of it anything you want is granted. If God gave me everything thing I wanted then I am greater and wiser then that god. Be very pleased that I am not wiser then God. Sometimes he may leave you scratching your head. It won't all make sense. Criticism will then follow. Will you still have faith?

-"Can you explain what He is doing?" No

-"Do you understand why He is silent?" No

-"Why doesn't your God take care of you?" I don't know....But I will still wait. I will still have faith.

Isaiah 26:8 "Yes, Lord, walking in the way of your laws, we wait for you; your name and renown are the desire of our hearts."

I will wait and walk in the laws of the Lord as I do so. How long will I wait? Until He is done working through me. Until death has freed me.

Toys of Wisdom

2008-11-10T20:31:00.000-08:00

Next door there lived a man. He was a middle-aged man and had seen his fair share of life. He had flowing white hair that never seemed to be out of place. His skin was leathery and tan. Partially from the sun and I think partially that skin had been through a lot. He had a scar across his heart. Not a surgery scar. It must have been from a war or an unfortunate accident. His blue eyes had a hint of grey. It was impossible to look into them and not gain wisdom. They penetrated deep and made those on the other end of them feel completely exposed. Every night he would sit on his porch in his favorite rocking chair with a dormant chair to his left. No one ever sat in it but it was worn. It was apparent that, that chair had an owner. The man would sit there every night and rock, back and forth, back and forth, as he carved little toys out of wood with a pocket knife that moved as if it were just another appendage. Some days as he carved the little toys he would speak. I can only assume it was to the dormant chair next to him. He called the chair ‘Helen’. Helen always knew how to make the man smile. A few times I saw the man stop carving. He pressed his hand that held the knife to his scar. A tear slowly fell down his cheek. His penetrating blue eyes turned all the way grey as the tears welted up inside them. Not a muscle on his face moved as he cried. I could not believe how someone could scream so loud without saying any words or moving any muscles. He just starred at Helen and cried, and she cried with him.

Every Sunday the man would walk to church. Thick leather Bible, like his skin, tucked underneath his arm, and an old note. The note had been folded on its crease countless times. It was no longer white but a faded brown. On the front was a broken red seal with a cursive ‘H’ that had been pressed into the wax many years ago. The man hummed “Amazing Grace” as he walked down the sidewalk to church. As he walked along he swung his free hand as it dangled at his side, slowly. Back and forth, back and forth. He repeated the process on his way home from church except he hummed “It is Well” as he walked back. Same pace, same fashion. Back and forth, back and forth.

One day, it was a Tuesday; I decided to get a little closer to the man. As he rocked on the porch carving his toy I crawled along the side of our two houses. I just wanted to see him more closely; I just wanted to…….I don’t know what I wanted. I slowly crawled to the side of his porch. My heart beat steadily rising. I was afraid the sound of my heart would betray me. I tried to calm it by holding my breath, but it didn’t work. The seconds ticked by so slowly as the lack of oxygen finally made me gasp out for air. I quickly threw my hand over my mouth; I knew he had to have heard that. But he still sat rocking back and forth, back and forth. Scared of getting caught I decided I had gotten close enough. I slowly started to crawl backward when a booming calm voice from above me said, “Did you find what you were looking for?” I froze. I felt my heart beat in my throat and I couldn’t move. The man did not even turn around to look at me as he motioned for me to come over. I debated running, I decided to run, but my legs wouldn’t do it. Instead I slowly walked forward. I made it up the steps and stopped lifeless as I stood in front of him. He repeated his question, “Did you find what you were looking for?” I shrugged my shoulders; it was all I could say. “No one goes crawling around like that unless they are looking for something,” he said. He looked up at me for the first time, still carving by feel. I caught his eyes for what must have been an entire half a second and then my eyes retreated quickly to the legs of his rocking chair. He looked back down to his hands as he continually rocked back and forth, back and forth. “Son”, He said slowly, “What are you looking for?” He waited patiently as I dug as deep as I could to try to find something profound. Minutes went by. Back and forth. Still no sound came from my lips. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t think. Still back and forth. Suddenly I blurted out in a crackled voice, “I want to know everything!” “I want to know why you sit here every day. Why you talk to a chair? Why you carve children’s toys? Why you sing the same two songs on your way to and from church? Why do you cry?” The man slowly stopped rocking back and forth and his hands dropped softly in his lap. He rose out of his chair and made up the space between us in one step. He took my shaking hand at my side and placed the wooden toy he carved in my palm and then sat back down. He looked deep into my eyes and said, “Because I have had a lot, and I have lost a lot. I have seen many come, and more go. I have loved dearly, but have cried more. And I am the happiest man to have ever lived.” He started rocking again, back and forth, back and forth. I turned the wooden figure in my hand as my mind raced to try and figure out what this meant. My finger touched the bottom of the toy where I felt an engraved inscription. It read “Hebrews 11:1 Faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.” As I read the verse a calm unexplainable in words fell over me. I looked underneath the toys that surrounded the railing of the deck. They all read the same thing. The man looked at me and smiled as he rocked back and forth. He had answered my question. The man engraved this verse everyday on his toys and on his heart. He meditated on it continually, back and forth, back and forth. He was the wealthiest, happiest man on Earth. Because his heart was where he could not see. Where he was certain he would eventually be.

Necessity of Goodbye

2008-10-30T16:14:00.000-07:00

The word penetrated my brain like the pencil the Joker carried around. It is the word no one wants to hear and everyone has said. "Goodbye". What a powerful word. It is definite yet ambiguous at the same time. A paradox that penetrates deeply. Cuts quickly and far to often. I have realized that this word must be spoken in order to say "Hello". God calls us to him. Us alone. We can not bring our baggage, our relationships. The door is just big enough for one! A lone person with open arms. Nothing else to distract. It is only after we say "Goodbye" to everything and everyone else that we can say "Hello" to God. the "baggage" that we carry is not necessarily bad. it is most often something very good. We are called to be mirrors of Christ. We can not bare his reflection until we are wiped clean of everything else. Most often times a blemish on our mirror is caused by something good. Do not be afraid to say "Goodbye", "Hello" will quickly follow.

learning to stand

2008-10-30T15:45:00.000-07:00

The wind it blows me over. Having my face in the dirt is far too familiar. Show me how to stand. Share with me the blankets your wrapped in. It feels impossible. What secrets do you believe in that keep you standing? Is there a hint of doubt behind those eyes?

I don't think I am capable. What is it that makes you invincible?

Under the stars I feel so small. How is it you stand so tall? Are you impervious to weakness? Can you teach it? Is it a process? The world is at your fingertips, the world is on my back. What magic do you posses? What inhibitions do you lack?

I don't think I am capable. What is it that makes you invincible?

Fear is my pillow, Darkness is my blanket. Not a moment passes where I am not shaken. How do you fly? Why do I fall? Why do I cry? how can you laugh at it all? How quickly you leave me, and how slow you are to return. Must I be comfortable on my knees? Is it something I have to learn?

I don't think I am capable. What makes you invincible?

Please give me your hand.

Help me to stand.

The Stranger in the Mirror

2008-10-21T19:31:00.000-07:00

The masks that hide us all: How long will the lies last? How many masks will we keep on the shelf? When will it stop? I have come to the conclusion that one will not truly know themselves until they surrender their masks. We have a different mask for every occasion. A mask for school. A mask for friends. A mask for church. A mask for parents. A mask for God. We wear these masks around every fickle relationship that we have created. It becomes so natural that over time we forget what we truly look like. How vain is it to lie to yourself! We stare at the mirror as we look into the eyes of a stranger. The reflection is so ambiguous it is as if a blind man were granted sight and he was starring at himself for the first time. The face that is underneath has become dormant. Solomon, in all his wisdom, at the end of his life stared at himself and screamed who am I?! Does it take death to finally become alive? Is love only tangible once breath has escaped our body? Or will we learn to strip ourselves of all that hides us, and finally become who we really are. Eleanor Rigby died with her mask on. Her mask lies lifeless in her grave. No one was saved. She was never alive. She never took off her mask. Will you strip your masks away? Or will they suffocate you to your grave?

A Sinners Cry

2008-10-17T10:44:00.000-07:00

I just needed a long shower. Sometimes....most times, it takes me a while to get all the dirt off. As I lay naked before God he sees me for everything that I am, and I am exposed. For some reason throughout the week I feel as if my clothes cover me and my sin. They hide my heart from everyone. I don't feel exposed until I get into the shower to try and clean myself of myself. Lord you have broken me and I am on my knees. Please, take my world apart. Take the things I hide from you. Take the things I hide from me. Did you really have to die for ME? I am not worth dying for. Take my world apart! I need you. I am broken on my knees. Take my world apart!............please

Cats Cradle

2008-10-10T20:51:00.000-07:00

As I have been struggling through this stage of life where everyone asks you that one question. The question that you have had to have an answer for since you were five years old. It has probably changed sense then but still you knew what the answer was. It is the question "What are you going to do when you grow up." Every decision that one makes has this question on the fringe of their decision making process. How will this affect what I want to be? When pondering this question I received some advice from my father that I think is the wisest piece of advice I had received on the issue. He said, "Son, it is not a question of what are you going to do, but a question of who are you going to be. If who you are aligns with God then it will not matter what you do, because that will in turn fall in place." As my father walked away I wish I had the stomach to tell him what I really felt. I wish I could have told him, that when I grow up, I want to be like my Father.

2 Corinthians 4:18

2008-10-09T22:25:00.000-07:00

TO THE WORLD:

We have never officially been introduced which is why saying goodbye should be easy. For someone who is so tangible you hide yourself well behind money and freedom. Two things I have been conditioned to love I hate with all my heart. No longer will you hold me in your grasp of sensuality. If I had one wish I would damn your existence. I curse the day you fell. For with it was signed the inevitable fate of so many by the blood coursing through their veins. The very life you promise you take away. Like a leash on a dog so is the worlds hold on man. As man wonders aimlessly from colorful attractions and smells you have place in his path. I am cutting the leash. I will no longer be persuaded by your charm. I want nothing to do with you, you king of charlatans. You mock wisdom and scoff at the discerning. Foolishness is a punch-line to you. An anecdote of old that is told to make man believe they are wiser then they are. Better off is an infant without a mother then a man with the world. I have found someone else to lead, someone else to follow. I am a child and I go to him. A humble leader on a bloody tree, has stolen my heart, HE HAS ALL OF ME!

Women

2008-10-08T23:21:00.000-07:00

It is funny sometimes how easily the future is seen by men. Yet with eyes wide open he walks into her snare. A beauty that captivates a man. As if to sedate him with a powerful drug. No other substance or being has the power to make a grown man act like a child, a smart man do stupid things, a strong man feel so weak, a poor man feel so wealthy, or a helpless man have hope. Men have fought wars over her. Countless friendships ruined by her. All just for the chance to sit with her, gaze at her, touch her. Men turn to animals to impress her. Like a pack of gorillas they beat their chest's and grunt aloud to capture her gaze. A woman's kiss is more poisoness then the most potent venom. It is a poison that can take not your body, but your soul. I realize how futile this message is. Not that it falls on deaf ears, but that it falls on hopeless hearts. Despite the danger of this species she is something man can not be complete without. This is not a letter of hate, contempt, or warning. This is a letter of love. Despite how many snares have caught a mans foot he will continue willingly walking into them until one sticks. Oh the power of a woman!

Love letter

2008-10-08T22:47:00.000-07:00

I saw you today, it was probably just the same to you. For me, it was new. I saw you in a new light. My eyes moved across your face painstakingly. Stopping to examine every crease, every color. So that when I close my eyes I will still see you. It is evident to me that when God breathed life into you he smiled. A smile that meant....this one...this one is perfect. When I watched you from a distance I dreamed about the future. Wondering if you would ever look at me the way I now look at you. Will my smile make you smile? Will my tears make you cry? Will my silence make you think? In my dreams the answer is yes to all of these. If I were to play God I would make sure that we would serendipitously fall together in a way that would be impossible for you to ignore. I would be charming and you would want to be charmed. I would listen and you would need to speak. The sound of my voice would calm your heart. The touch of my hand would make you feel beautiful. Time will tell if my feelings will be shared, or if they will be as vain as the ink on this paper

Fate

2008-10-07T14:19:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I laugh, often times I cry. Sometimes I wonder what it is like to die. When it is the end will I know the difference, or will it be just the same. Will I feel peace or will I feal pain. It's funny how when at the end one looks at the begining. Knowing now that one step to the right or left could have changed the ending. I guess I am not really sure what to do. If life were so easy I would see it through and through. The truth is I am tired of life and all of this. Ingnorence has left me and so has my bliss. When one is left with nothing there are only two things one can do. Give up, or fight back to the top. The choice is up to me and to you. As far as how I'll handle it I don't really know. Me personally I am ready to go. If things were that easy then I would already be gone with my head to the sky. Without any reason or signs of goodbye. What an interesting delima life creates, as for me right now I will put my money on fate.

Fate had left me to the whirlwind of chance. An ongoing struggle a never ending dance. Recent events have opened my eyes to a whole new way to live my life. Instead of the roll of the dice or flip of a coin. A new F word of faith is what I've joined. Its a much better feeling to know he holds every grain of sand. In his almighty powerful hand. Kiss the world goodbye, turn my back on it all. No longer do I choose to close my eyes and just fall. I now put my life in the hands that matter most. The gentle, loving hands of the Holy Ghost.