A Ritual is Never Hollow

A ritual is never hollow; sweet words,
Happy ancient words, from the dawn of time,
Sung through the air, refreshing as a waterfall
Discovered at dusk on a marching day:

A ploughman bidding his beads to Jerusalem
A child who’d rather not sit still during Mass
A holy sister hymning along the Rhine
A wise man seeking still that elusive Star

Heal chaos through their living in the Hours -
Oh, no – a ritual is never hollow

There's a thin line between obsession and love
Often hard to discern
Obsession sits in the bathroom while you ****
Love shoves a magazine under the door

Dear Father,

I have sinned,
Even when I knew it was wrong.
I sinned when I acknowledged your presence,
I rebelled against you and didn’t care.
I am dirt who hates you at heart,
I can’t stand being in your presence.
I am filled with malice and spite,
I break bread with my sin,
I dig up the bones of my weaknesses.

Dear Father,

You loved me still,
You cared for me despite this.
You saw me as precious,
You called me holy.
You lifted me up,
Held me close,
Drew me near,
Called me to you,
Claimed me as your own,
Adopted me as your child.
You loved me still.

When pens run out of ink
We throw them away
When pencils break
We sharpen them

A Rosary from Jasna Gora

For, as always, Our Lady of Czestochowa
and for Kirk Briggs

A little string of wooden gift shop beads
Each bead a hymn along the pilgrimage
From Nazareth to Bethlehem to - to us
Praying again the Angel’s greeting-song

A hymn of the universe sung and told,
And written1 by Saint Luke upon a board
From the Table where all have come to share
Both feast and Feast, until the world shall end

O Lady of the Mountain Bright, please bless
Us through these humble wooden gift shop beads

1 *In Orthodoxy an ikon is said to be written

No one said life was gonna be like this.
Chasing these demons, throwing my fists.
No one said this cross was gonna be heavier than the stone rolled away from that empty tomb.
At nights I struggle with these temptations in my mind but I refuse to give and refuse to bend.
During the days I look into the eyes of that kid who I wish he would let himself be saved. But he refuses to cave. I look into those but I dont see his. I see the devils eyes and he tells me how much he hates me and anyone like me but that punk wont phase me. He uses my peers to try to haunt me but I kept walking while they kept taunting. He tries to break me with this temptations and he tries to destroy me with anxiety and depression but I refuse to listen. The devil just wont get it, he tries to throw me outta commision but I wont be pushed off mission.
He tries to make useless but I look down at those dog tags around my neck and im reminded just why im fighting because my master cant be beaten and neither can his warriors.
Im fighting for him and im fighting for the salvation of those who deny him.
My heart breaks for those lost souls.
This nation struggles with depression yet they keep chasing the very things causing their depression.
This nation follows the American dream but really its just an illusion full of confusion. I wander through that fog clinging to my dog tags that lead the way towards true happiness. Not this sadness.
I tasted the things of this world and I want no part in them.
The devil thought he had me but then love broke through and carried me, beaten and battered to victory.
Yet the war's not over, every day it's a battle for my life its a fight for whats right.
But there is a promise of victory.
I came into this war thirsty for water, im not hungry for sand.
The devil thought he could take me I remembered grace and the first time I tasted it so he can charge me with everything hes got. My general knows his filthy plot. Im in this till the finish so ill tell the devil to shut it whenever he tries to remind me. He tries to rip that cross from my neck and deny me who I am but I know who I am. Im a child of the king almighty

The Library of Alexandria in Our Seabags

…in the army…(e)very few days one seemed to meet a scholar, an original, a poet, a cheery buffoon, a raconteur, or at the very least a man of good will.”

-C. S. Lewis, Surprised by Joy

The barracks was our university
So too the march, the camp, the line for chow
McKuen shared our ham and lima beans
John Steinbeck helped with cleaning guns and gear

(You’re not supposed to call your rifle a gun)

The Muses Nine were usually given a miss
But not Max Brand or Herman Wouk
Cowboys and hobbits and hippie poets
And a suspicious Russian or two

Tattered paperbacks jammed into our pockets:
All the world was our university

Please Stop, put on brakes
I don't know how to answer...

Please Stop, pause the moment
Life won't go on forever...

PLEASE STOP! Let me take it in...
Spare me your time...

Please Stop, I need a minute to breathe
Be patient. This Era is harder to climb

Please Stop...


Please Go... Your wearing me out
My heart can't take this pace

Please Go... Your burning me up
These ashes are leaving a trace

PLEASE GO! Your making holes!
In my heart! You are so cruel!

Please Go... It's hurting me so
My body has become a blood pool

Please Go...


Please Come! My eyes long to see thee
I don't desire to live alone

Please Come! I don't know who you are
I'm not suppose to bare these burdens on my own

PLEASE COME! Join me in this world
To do the work of Christ, and reach out to those who are lost

Please Come! I don't care where we go!
I wanna serve the Lord with you no matter the cost

Please Come...


Please Stay! My last breath is in your hand!
My final second can come with your words

Please Stay! You have forgiven my Betrayal
An Eternal future? This indeed I've heard

PLEASE STAY!!! My time on Earth is for serving You!
I'll cut off every limb! And break every decree!

Please Stay! For if there was no you...
There is no tomorrow, nor any hope of being set free!

Please Stay...


Who are these Letters To? Read Below and You will soon know.

Distractions... Please Stop!
Sins... Please Go!
Beloved Husband... Please Come!
Lord... Please Stay!

*This is my prayer... and I will allow them to take their place...