Halftime comes, I expect it to be
The greatest show,
But instead who plays here?
The Black Eyed Peas.

Years ago, they knew the meaning
Of musicianship,
But now,
Commercialism is their new expertise.
I am so frustrated, I walk out of the room
And somehow no one goes with me.

What a society.

If you see me on a beach anytime soon,
It’s not for retirement.
I’m investigating the shore,
Interrogating all of its misshapen rocks.
Perhaps they can bring me a new ambition
To tell me what life’s all about
For when I’m old and set in my ways,
Far away fades the beauty of doubt.

Grace is something
Solid enough to take,
Yet fragile enough to break.
What will you do with what Jesus gives you?
Will you walk away or steadfastly cling to
The love that is waiting
To pour through you truth?

Blessed is the jewel
That isn’t afraid of smokes of coal,
Ruffling its shape.
Blessed is the one who is open
And implants himself in knowledge and wisdom
To captivate his openness
Even more
And create within empathy.
Blessed is the pebble
Who rolls over hills
As if it makes
As much of an impact
As a boulder
For it is right.
Have you seen the new path
Of the ant colony?
Blessed is the one who strives to know souls
By seeking, rather than assumption.
Blessed is the one who colors life warmly,
Yet never colors over
The frigid ones that yearn for warmth—
Only invites them in for coffee.
Blessed is the one who is overflowing
With gentle generosity and wisdom,
Who is silent, yet strong in strength and in grace—
The one of invisible footprints
That capture us, call us,
To deepen and dampen our feet in the snow.

Today is a time for rejuvination.
Promise is a light itself,
Not as dimming as it seems.
And love was never vacant, but distant
And trust should never be absent.
There is something calling us closer
Without a sound, look around;
It is destiny
Whose speech is shared with purpose.
Today is the time to recreate life,
Let go, and let God
Polish inside of you, make you whole,
And only let you
Remember enough of your pain
To help you rejoice in this change.
You have been cleanesed by him,
Thoughts emptied of sin for him to begin
His work
Through us all and such work
Never goes unfinished.

Sand grains
Caught in my pores
Contain the outdoors
And maintain my glow
Where the water pours.
They shall wash only
With salt water—
More grains to replace
Whatever remains.
I want to capture every joyous life
And sink it into memory.
Let me breathe soon after I think I’m drowning
And explore these waters I seize.
Sand grains—collecting inside me
And each is important
For each one has movement.
One may walk along the beach, make footprints, then leave
Or count and carry every footprint they see.
They’re always crying,
“Do you remember me?”
Yes, I remember you
For you are what makes
The surface of the shore
More complex,
The concave holes that make experience
More convex.

Awakening
Of heart, of mind.
Opening—
Impossible to
Describe,
But I try my best each day.
Hope my spirit can explain
What God has done for me.
He has called me to witness
With love,
Not debate,
Which is often choked in hate,
Promoting the death of the soul,
But smoothly flowing love
That nourishes those
Who never did know
That they were thirsty.
What God has done for me
Is to make me see
That all our throats are drying
When God can’t set us free,
Due to what we call
Our free will.
So let Him free you.
His name is in our hearts,
So move them
Outside ourselves
And ration them in parts
To feed the world its greatest gift—
A love that they don’t know exists—
God’s love
And His faithful time to mold us
Into what we will become
Above.

Thanks for your connection
To me; it follows through
In the right direction—
An elaborate confection
Of sweets that are actually good for you.
I am moved, yet still moving,
Always moving, as long as I’m believing
And always grieving
For this world that has lost you. Praying now
That you will use me
To reach those who are screaming
With closed mouths and open spirits,
Letting poison flood them,
While professing to be merely swimming
Innocently,
For Satan’s the king of trickery.
I pray to all, but mostly those
Who will never hear my plea;
That you may give them heaviness
And let them into grace and worry
About their souls
Even if they never know
Such heaviness could come
From a minute one as me
For in actuality,
It has come from you.
All has come from you.

Used to mental clutter,
Accustomed to chaos—
A stranger to clarity;
Waiting for it
To become blurry,
But it doesn’t.
I am not colorblind;
I am seeing everything
Ferociously, vividly,
And with a great sense of glee
And I am ready
To complete
God’s will for me,
Never forgetting
What he has made me finally see.

Your scent engulfs my mind.
Leaving traces.
Places.
Faces.
Behind.

My eardrums play a silent tune.
Shadows passing.
Slashing.
Fastening.
Soon.

Your vision—my eye's obsession.
Backward glancing.
Fancying.
Menacing.
Repression.

My touch reclaims time.
Sullen reflection.
Expression.
Rejection.
Borderline.

They ask me why I want to die—I tell them—
I am already dead.
They pump that forceful air supply—no ears
Hear words clearly said.
White drowns the place—all space
Leaves me feeling like an empty face
In the hospital bed.
My family cries, I give them lies,
"Accidental overdose"
Wouldn't want to take the time
To get too close.
The truths I've told have only killed me more.

A life of pain
Is a life of gain.
"KNOWLEDGE."
They say.

Forget happiness, just learn:
Rinse those tears away,
On the coast of another day.
"Knowledge," they say,
"Is pain."

Knowing is a bore,
Reality—a chore.
They say, "Stronger, you'll grow."
Think I'd rather not—well—
Know I'd rather not
Know.

When winter comes I miss the sun.
My tear freezes.

Dreaming of sandcastles
Well into winter.

I build a snowcastle
To satisfy
My fantasy, my misery
And occupy
My grieving
Eye.

Snow castles harden,
As snowflakes grow dearer.

I slice through patterns of sand
Attempting to make
A sandflake
To understand
And heal this (stifled)
Ache.

When summer comes I miss the snow.
My tear melts.