I wish the storm would hit already
I have prepared my mind for the
upcoming tears; my bed is ready
for the unsteady mentality that I'll
be faced to deal with once you're
gone. It's hard to accept that this
is my reality; waiting for you to
realise that I'm not worth paying
attention to- not worth wasting
the warmth of your love on.
I honestly don't want to sit in this
waiting room any longer the sad
thought of you leaving me- is a
thought that I cannot handle,
and I know that soon with this
struggle I will call you at least a
billion times but hang up before
you can answer simply because
I miss you but know you're
entertained with other things;
other people. I am not a constant
need in your life, you'd be just
fine without me but without you
I am unhappy; I am wilting.
My tactless talent to treat the ones
that I truly love has acted once
again after all if I wasn't as sad
I wouldn't be writing these
withering words when I'm
well aware that you love me.

If I had known that I was going to
be the last man inside you, not long
before your last breath left your lungs
and escaped your body along with
your tortured soul, I would have saved
us both the time and trouble.
Let love be!
Oh naive me!
Of course we both knew the troubles
your mind conjured, and maybe my
lack of intimacy was torturous, however, not all of the sweating and
moaning could be forsaken,
as foreplay was eased into,
which was wrongly confused as
a careless flick of the wrist.
But I suppose you knew your body better, and could take yourself
places that no one else ever could
without having their arms
pulled behind the back
and secured tightly, because
when you flicked your
own wrist and became
wet and flush,
the only moaning you did was accompanied with wincing
eyes and curled toes.

Now I'm reading the newspaper,
and your name sticks out, screaming
at me, exclaiming riddles that you can
never answer. And the one that leaves
me the most unnerved is the one right
before me, becoming moistened by
misunderstood teardrops.

What is black and white
and red all over?

I ask you,
but I know now
that you can never again
answer my call.

So I'm left with only one of
two options, both of which
feel like a handful. I can delicately
place a flower atop your new
home among the rest, or
I can palm dirt as you are
slowly lowered down and
covered with the mound
that lay beside the congregation
that finishes their final goodbyes.

With one look
You set my soul on fire
Lit it up like the Fourth of July

With one glance
My heart engulfed in flames
And my breath labored

An illness I never want to build immunity to

Shrouded in Liberty
it moves across the land
gorging on the hearts
and faith of
small ones;
they whose homes
invaded by the cause,
depleted of life,
of love,
of choice,
find protection
a misnomer.
Buried deep in details
of little consequence
where minutia
is a governor
stealing choice
to feed the appetite
of this machine.
Where has gone
the mighty power
that once united all;
will Freedom
end this war
before a mighty fall?
Bring back the ghosts
that won it well
the proud, the free and brave;
their spirits needed in our own
to lead us from our grave.
Apathy would bury us,
cloaked in ignorance of bliss
while shrouded in Liberty
the beast deceives;
No army advancing
but what we're sold,
driving back the small ones
step by step;
the edge of a grave
ready for us to slip
into darkness.

I am a Christian.
Do not look at me differently,
Do not roll your eyes or scoff.
Do not lump me in with every other Christian
You have ever met
Or heard of.
Do not assume that I am like the Westboro Baptists,
Or that I only believe what I do because of my parents.
Do not question my sanity.
Do not assume you know my views or my reasons,
But please, ask.
Do not suppose I will be extreme,
Or that I live under a rock.
Do not think I am naïve or a saint,
Or that I expect everyone to live
By what I think is right.
Do not presume that I fit your stereotypes, whatever they might be.
Do not take for granted that I have no idea how to have fun.
Do not associate church or my faith with being boring.
Do not suppose that you understand me or the depths of what I believe.


Please just do not assume that because you know one, you know all.
I am a Christian.
Ask me why.
Ask me about my thoughts on the world,
Or on political issues.
I will gladly tell you whatever you’d like to know.
Ask me about the wonderful moments of God I see around me.
Ask me what evidence I have.
Tell me all about what you believe.
Talk to me without reservations or awkwardness.
Ask me what traditions my family has, or how we celebrate holidays.
Ask me what makes me different.
Laugh with me about the children I babysit during Bible study.
Cry with me when someone passes away.
Look with me to see the ways God is working in the world.
Give thanks with me before dinner.
Join me at church one day to see what it’s like for yourself.
Love with me all the lost people in the world.
Love yourself.
I am a Christian.

because he is a successful man
because he wears a suit and tie
everybody, let's rally around
we should listen to that guy
-
-
-
because he lives in a cardboard box
because he just wants to die
everybody, let's look away
we should ignore that guy

Life is like a weather-man's parade,
A spun-out ride of calamity,
And,
Causation,
Such details lost like blue winds,
In ever-green plateau's
Or high desert mountains,

All of the images,
My mind displays,
Are radiating,
Yet transparently,
Confining themselves,
Into whatever isometric language,
They deem fit

Like a shooting star
Beautiful, yet so very far
Made of my wishes, hopes and dreams
Everything inside my heart
For a fleeting second
Seems you're just close enough to touch
Then there you go again
And I'm left wishing and missing you so much
Waiting until you're back in my sights
Covered by the darkness of night
The only thing that could make me happier
Would be flying by your side
Shining brightly together
As the rest of the world admires our beauty
From a distance, forever

Me and Mary Lou
Were married right out high school
Her soon to have a baby
Me with nothing much to do

Didn't get much of an education
From the high school social scene
Life is now one big social frustration
If you know what I mean

Got a job on the dead shift
Down at the Jiffy mart
When Mary Lou went to labor
Emptying out her shopping cart

Got the call at 2am
Telling me I had a boy
I went straight to isle 3
And bought him his first of many broken toys

Cause broken toys prepare us
For the book of broken dreams
That most of us later in life
Tend to sit and read

Got the call not that much later
Telling me Mary Lou had died
Pretty shortly after that
My boy let out his first of many cry's

I wish I could have been there
Though not much I could have done
Except to give last minute comfort
To the mother of my son

Still down at the Jiffy mart
Whats a man to do
With a now 2 year old by your side
Sitting on a stool

He loves to hear the stories
Of when his mom and I were young
But he always adds the saddest end
When he asks why she is gone

I tell him she's still living
Only now she's in our hearts
I'm not sure that he believes me
As that's when the tear drops start

But life goes on as always
Like the purchases that I ring
With both us boys missing Mary Lou
If you know what I mean

Take a chicken
From out the yard
Wring its neck
Until it's not
Put the carcass
In a ***
Filled with water
Boiling hot
Add some spices
Mainly salt
Plus some celery
By the stalk
Pick the bones
From off the bird
Nice and tender
Is the word
Save the juices
I have heard
Common colds
It is the cure
Pick it up
And say bonjour
Lick your fingers
Afterwards

I want a beard like Chris's beard
But I can't even grow hair on my chest
This may sound strange if not a bit weird
That I have a Chris beard full on man crush

I swear I'm not gay, why I'm even straighter than straight
You can call my house and ask my wife
She'll tell you I'm out back juggling chainsaws all day
And other manly things I do with my life

But with hair on my face there's not the slightest trace
Not a follicle will you even find
But with Chris's beard I think that it's clear
That sucker could grow over night

So yes, I want a beard like Chris's beard
And that is the straight up fact Jack
Cause with a beard like Chris's manly beard
I wouldn't have to put up with anyone's crap