I'll only say it once
and I'll say it really fast.
Why's it matter?
You'll be tested.
Have you used this?
Yes, I teach it.
Written March 2020
There's fear in you that you can't see.
It's why you're numb with apathy.
It's why you never want to try.
It's why you're working 9 to die,
It's why you put yourself in line.
It's why you lie and say you're fine.
It's why you stand when you should dance.
It's why you're waiting for your "chance".
It's been seven years
And too many tears.
I pray that we are still friends.
It's hard to word right
To be true yet be light.
Can't tell what I'm trying to mend.
Embarrassed to say
I hate it's this way
that your hurt is my hurt too.
If only I could,
I swear that I would
feel all of your pain for you.
What is sometimes hard to take,
hard to ask,
hard to make?
What can sometimes search with breadth,
Or can aim,
Or have depth?
What can sometimes move a pen,
move a nation,
Move it's men?
What can sometimes show you care,
or be loaded,
What can sometimes take your sleep,
make you happy,
make you weep?
I told my friends I hated music,
that it was a waste of time.
And it wasn't till I liked a girl,
she made her music mine.
When things ended; I was moping,
So it hurt to hear her songs.
Yet I craved them since was coping,
and my drive was very long.
Sixteen hours I heard Mumford
and he reassured to me.
Love won't dismay nor will enslave,
But will always set you free.
Sigh No More - Mumford and sons
I have eaten all your brothers;
you're the only one that's left.
The last soldier for the slaughter.
Your last moments before death.
I'm a man made in God's image,
You're a nut born in a field.
And the trick to your undoing
is the ***** inside your shield.
So my hand descends from heaven
and it lifts you to the sky.
Then I pull but you hold steady,
you stand firm although I pry.
You have won oh mighty peanut.
'Gainst this beast survival's bleak.
Not from strength did you prevail
But by having nothing weak.
I couldn't open a pistachio and for whatever reason that failure was stuck in my mind. I knew there was something symbolic about it that I needed to explore so I wrote this.
Bound and led the quiet man,
delivered up to me.
"Put him to death, the blasphemer",
was the people's plea.
My wife sent word to wash my hands,
she suffered in a dream.
I tried with water before the mob,
it didn't make me clean.
I put a sign above the cross,
the one I made him bring.
I killed a greater man than I,
he truly was the king.
This is about Pontius Pilots internal conflict when he sent Jesus to be crucified.