shawn-brocke
I think art is fun, including poetry, I used poetry to sort my thoughts and sleepless nights out when I was a kid trying to figure myself out, self note: I'm still doing that (So I still write). Even if I knew myself perfectly I think I'd still write. / / I work in construction mostly, but I still think like a poet. Still pretty conservative in most things though. Open to getting to know the folks I meet, open to getting a little more injured every day ("the more you suffer the more it means you really care, right? yaaahh." - The Offspring), in myself not in construction. Be Safe! Stay clean, not rude or mean (unless that's okay with you interlocutor). / / I'm looking forward to reading awesome poems, good, bad, or scraggled. I hope you enjoy mine in the same way. Thanks for reading my stuff, if not, your loss. / / Take care, SB
Monkey me, monkey you.
What's a monkey supposed to do?
Look and listen to Fathers love,
listen to the calls above.
Put the devil under ground,
pray against those hot hell hounds.
Act in faith when the call I hear,
always love and never fear.
Devil down,
bless the rest,
put those monkeys to the test.
Monkey me, monkey through,
past a wall unto the true.
Love and bless and passed a test,
hope in Jesus for me is rest.
Faith is right with grace in sight,
in my Fathers mighty might.
Hope for me, and hope for you,
hope the monkeys all be true.
Hope for me and hope for you.
Go monkey!
Nov 3, 2020
Nov 3, 2020 at 2:48 PM UTC
Devil down under ground
To Gods just deep ocean sound
Burn the devil
Bless the rest
Put those monkeys to the test
Monkey me Monkey you
Look to heaven, see and do...
:)
Oct 20, 2020
Oct 20, 2020 at 3:04 PM UTC
It's my day off
even-though so was yesterday I feel I deserve a rest.
I cleaned the washroom
I did my reading
I even exercised in the basement,
a little longer than usual.
Man am I great!
Then comes the lazy hesitance,
"this is not the end, begin."
Content with what I've done. I can do no more,
Well I could but I think I'll just play video games.
the lazy hesitance with a silent call a draw to do,
"one more thing"
Be wise with these urges it could steer me wrong, again!
But it says, "go out", not **** your neighbor.
The heavy lazy hesitance,
coupled with the silent push to do one more,
"just go out the door, just out the door that's all honest."
"It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to."
I dunno, should I go jogging?
Jan 31, 2018
Jan 31, 2018 at 3:01 PM UTC
I dream of peace and just assurance.
I have stood for it all my life,
with constitution and vigor.
My hope and that which I have defended,
stood bright and noble in the light of love.
It has been as I have seen him
true,
honest,
quietly brave,
a perfect encapsulation.
The wind has not shaken him in his innocence,
he shall stand beside me in nobility
unscathed.
I will defend this glory.
In innocence and grace,
as a child, you stand and walk.
I will work this day in your honor, with ease.
We will watch you in all you stand for victorious.
Together we are ready and true, within and beside you, our hope.
Innocence tempted,
standing unprotected,
with all hope inside, and promise.
All that is of value, tested, to be refined.
The day has passed and that which was gold is a fooled fool.
Standing in temptation as many a desperate ***** desire,
unquenchable.
We cannot lose hope, this is a test.
I must continue, to put you forth to your destiny.
Leaving the darkness into arms much worse, knowing betrayal.
You will go to glory but I must forsake my own, crippled.
I am destitute, in my flippancy,
I realize that sin is a filth not able to be removed.
But I know the code,
the law of fire and grace,
I can use it to my advantage and forsake the trials,
and continue in love, but what love is this?
A mentor lay in my path.
The show must go on.
It is loss to move on,
it is loss to forsake,
is is loss to do nothing.
No bearing of truth do I have now in this gift of victory
unearned.
Move forward to prove. Fall back to loose again?
Or loose all gained by grace's ennoble gain?
He washed us white as snow.
Works or Love?
Entwine the two...
We will carry you, the broken of my deeds,
from white to grey to white, through blood and fire we go,
as you have shown us oh mighty man,
now wasted.
For this is the way understood.
I see you on the edge, not swiftly turning.
What's that you carry?
The wreck of the mighty's ambition.
For it was not just the faithful
who brought me home,
but the vision of might and of noble in glory.
The glimpse of both from which I strayed in vain curiosity
broken.
Now mending myself and you in mighty ambition.
Noble, faithful, and true we carry on.
Jan 31, 2018
Jan 31, 2018 at 12:38 PM UTC
I don't know how I met you. Inspired.
It's like you appeared out of the thin air.
Newly created...
I held my own, just barley,
As you looked at me, across your dinner table at mid day or earlier.
Like it was early in the morning even though it wasn't.
Fresh and geeky, tidy and neat, And on a mission!
You smiled, laughed and winced in my general direction.
I answered your questions, one worded like.
You answered mine before I even asked, I was mystified.
You're like a feather, from a native chiefs head dress,
Dipped in ink,
Then blown onto a piece of paper made of pure flexible gold,
Written into existence by divine inscription.
Dawson Creek...
I made a sculpture. Five so far,
I cut my thumb, multiple times on this one, multiple times.
Sorry. To number five and to myself,
Bad skills, bad counter-pressure,
Blood, scars, band-aids.
Blood on five, scars on me,
Pouce Coupe...
Between for me equals the space between,
Between Dawson Creek and Grand Prairie,
Like Pouce Coupe, is "cut thumb", in french.
A mother tongue language of somewhere in me, undiscovered.
English is my Papa tongue, the language of, "let's get things done!"
Both pretty good. One definitely more productive! Go!
Pouce Coupe, the undiscovered middle ground.
A french name for an English town.
Pouce Coupe...
Like this sculpture,
Art from the space between, Like the memory of you,
My "lost" friends,
Memories like driving there and home again.
Through memory lane.
It's like Pouce Coupe, the memory of you.
Like the scar, the cut thumb, the memories good and all my bad.
And somewhere in between I'll meet you all again,
Most likely in "Pouce Coupe".
The unpredictable space between,
Pouce Coupe...
Jan 17, 2018
Jan 17, 2018 at 2:20 PM UTC
I didn't mean to kiss you.
I just happened to fall in love.
Jan 16, 2018
Jan 16, 2018 at 12:10 PM UTC
Sometimes waking up hurts
Try sleeping all week
month
year
I slept a whole year once
Didn't get much done
Try Ten years
Less done
Try
Waking up
and staying up
getting ready
and then doing something
I get more done
PM
no
get up in the
AM
AM
Jan 12, 2018
Jan 12, 2018 at 8:58 PM UTC
Focus
on
ME.
Not
me.
Walk
on
the
wAteR...
Drowning
now
but
His
hand
lifts
you
out.
Jan 12, 2018
Jan 12, 2018 at 8:50 PM UTC
The phone rings
Hello..
Hi
(My heart leaps for a second
I haven't heard this voice for at least three weeks)
How's the weather down there?
It's just snowed, my vehicle is Brocken,
A dead starter,
My starter is dead today too,
No work
No play
But a little bundle of energy in my chest
But not motivated to do anything)
Cold.. snowy, you?
(People say these conversations have little or zero value...)
Nice, thanks
How are you?
(...But it does. Cause in 1978 when it was dry
The crops didn't grow and
People went near dead)
Good
(He's always good. It's a talent that comes naturally
To him, but the ready of us struggle to get to.
I feel like I have to work so
Hard just to break even with everyone living
With what seems like effortless ease.
But he struggles not.)
Cool
(At least he struggles not as far as I can see,
With a heart as big as that there has to be some struggle there.
With care, and affections, comes hope,
And hope hurts until it's fullfiled,
And he hopes, I know he hopes,
Or he wouldn't call,
and I can hear it in his voice,
See it his eyes.
I want to succeed, just to prove you right
For believing in me)
We talk a bit
I hang up the phone,
And get busy.
(Hi)
Mar 8, 2017
Mar 8, 2017 at 4:20 PM UTC
Blue
...it was a good day yesterday,
So is today...
...but I made a boo-boo..
..and bumped into you last night before you left...
(all our efforts down the drain,
a hidden sin can leave a shuttle stain)
...you just gave me a ***** look,
And smiled and said,
"You might come over tomorrow"
"Ok!"
Unblue
(I think better luck next time!)
Mar 8, 2017
Mar 8, 2017 at 3:43 PM UTC