"jobe" poems
Troubles chasing me again,
Breaking down my best defence,
I'm looking, God, I'm looking for you
Weary just won't let me rest and fear is filling up my head.
I'm longing, God I'm longing for you
But I will find you in the place I'm in, find you when I'm at my end,
Find you when there's nothing left of me to offer you except for brokenness.
You lift me up, you'll never leave me thirsty,
When I am weak, when I am lost and searching
I'll find you on my knees.
So what if sorrow shakes my faith,
What if heartache still remains,
I'll trust you, my god I'll trust you.
'Cause You are faithful and
I will find you in the place I'm in, find you when I'm at my end,
Find you when there's nothing left of me to offer you except for brokenness.
You lift me up, you'll never leave me thirsty,
When I am weak, when I am lost and searching
I'll find you on my knees, my knees.
When my hope is gone, when the fear is strong
When the pain is real, when it's hard to heal
When my faith is shaken and my heart is broken and my joy is stolen, God I know that
You lift me up, you'll never leave me searching,
Find you in the place I'm in, find you when I'm at my end,
Find you when there's nothing left of me to offer you except for brokenness.
You lift me up, you'll never leave me thirsty,
When I am weak, when I am lost and searching
I'll find you on my knees.
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 2:49 PM UTC
We were scaling Mount Si
when a cloud rolled in so thick
we had to wipe the mist from our faces.
Our shadows, already growing longer,
disappeared entirely
and the time we measured
by the burning in our legs
and the shortness of our breath
seemed to go with them.
Light no longer came just from above,
it was all around us, equally,
and it was then that I thought part of us
would never return and that moment
would never end, when you gasped
and whispered, LOOK,
your arm outstretched,
and there floating out of the fog
was a ghost, and then a shadow,
and finally stepping onto the rocks
as new as creation itself,
a beautiful, white ram.
From "Bird's Nest In Your Hair" by Brian Jobe
May 21, 2017
May 21, 2017 at 10:41 PM UTC
I was haunted. I'm not haunted anymore, rather, the ghost of you likes to knock on the door of my heart every now and then to remind me you still exist. Tonight, I let that ghost in for the first time in months. And I wonder what your life is like now.
Are you just itching with excitement that graduation is less than a month away? Are you finally getting out of Lubbock and moving to San Diego like you always wanted? What were your thoughts on the world cup? I know how much you love soccer and it's starting to get cold again...do you ever wear that Liverpool beanie I gave to you for your birthday? Probably not. I wouldn't be surprised if you threw that in the trash long ago.
I also wonder if you already met someone new. The girl of your dreams who will listen to Kari Jobe and eat taco bell with you (I never really liked taco bell anyway). I hope not--but that's just because I'm selfish.
I wonder how much you know about my life. Did you hear I got a dog? Did you see my halloween costume this year? You would have loved it. Did you know my new dream is to be a street photographer in New York City?
I wonder if God is changing you--more so if you're letting him change you. Or if you're just as stubborn thinking that leaving this town full of memories will solve everything.
I know you burned our bridge long ago. And I am way over trying to rebuild it, but...I'll always care about you no matter how many other bridges are built with new people.
11:05PM and I'm done wondering about you. I let you're ghost in and it's time to let him out. Because I need to sleep, and I can't sleep with you here....goodnight.
Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 12:27 AM UTC
Green grass, silver chain,
a low, slate sky waiting to rain.
My Golden Retriever finishes her yawn,
sits up, and takes off like a shot
towards the far end of the lawn.
In one, long wave the fine mesh links
are played out until the line yanks taut.
The dog never learns. My heart sinks.
From "Bird's Nest In Your Hair" by Brian Jobe
May 21, 2017
May 21, 2017 at 9:38 PM UTC
*Whence did thee depart the orb
To seek the pearls of Jobe ?
Whence did thou retire to rob
And don the elder's robe ?
Whence did thee run far from home
To flee assassin's work ?
Whence was good sense realised
That thee had gone beserk ?
Whence did good become the bad
And rampantcy run wild ?
For whom friend, doth the bell toll
In the slaughter of this child ?
What will the fate's bequeath us
With this legacy of wrong ?
From whence will come the melody
When wrong consumes the song ?*
Marshalg
@theCoalface
3 November 2009
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 2:07 PM UTC
Tantum tempus temporis
quoniam aliena femina in meo cubiculo dormivit;
ecce illi quantum dulce somnus est.
Quanta etiam libera somnia sunt.
In alia aetate mundum certe rexit
vel optimo regi in matrimonio fideliter ducta est
qui iuxtus flumen psalmos luce lunae scripsit.
**** me iri foras egressum et spatiatum
Nihil occurit hic, nihil umquam fit.
Praeterea si incedat iam volat me narrare;
habeo nihil, praecipue erga quicquid erat.
Viam cepi aviam
qua celeres non superant;
dignis praemia sunt
qui verbum veritatis distinguere possunt.
Hospes solus me docere potuit
praeclaram orem iustitiae contemplari
et videre oculum pro oculo, et dentem pro dente.
Nisi duo homines in mansionem,
Est nullus in viso; verem exspectant,
proinde quasi ver plaustro accederet.
Mundus deleretur ea nocte
sed meae amicae aequum esset;
illa meo cubiculo dormiret *** revenirem.
Meridiano me promoveo
adhuc in obscura parte viae;
in angustos corruere
et constans manere non possum.
Alius mea ore dicit
sed solum meo animo audit,
calcas omnibus etiam tibi feci
quibus tamen careo.
Ego et ego
In creatione quo ingenium alicuius
nec alicui ignoscit nec excolit.
Ego et ego
unus alteri dicit nullus et videre
imaginem meum et vivere possit.
From "Bird's Nest In Your Hair" by Brian Jobe
May 21, 2017
May 21, 2017 at 10:03 PM UTC
Loved to tell a joke , loved his Winston's , a pack always visible in a white dress shirt , cigarette in the corner of his mouth . Right eye quivered left eye open ,. seen him drunk once , alcohol on his breath every day , morning and afternoon ,. medals and commendations , not worth a cheeseburger at McDonalds , delivered the living , hauled back the dead , hosed chariot , back again , Purple Hearts and Silver Stars , another day at the office and Saigon bars ..A defeated man , No , a product of the sixties , American warrior with all its ambiguity , loved his comrades but cursed the ' system ' , face would palsy , voice growing deeper then silent , physically residing in Conley , emotionally in battle , at ease Major Jobe !
Sep 25, 2015
Sep 25, 2015 at 8:06 AM UTC
Nails on a chalkboard....cops to a drug lord
straitjacket to a madman....to a hoarder,the trash can
Rain to a bird...going against your word
Bleach to a stain...morphine to pain
Fear to creatures feared....and to the orcs,treebeard
By: Haddy T. Jobe
Mar 9, 2016
Mar 9, 2016 at 7:35 PM UTC
Snaching up Galaxies, I can't remember if it was Jobe who declared "HOPE AGAINST HOPE" but it spoke to me. Flames sparked, the waiter looked at me like universes would be overturned if he would've looked away. Hope, against hope.
Aug 2, 2015
Aug 2, 2015 at 7:46 PM UTC
Fifty feet above, the steady whir
of traffic and the slur of rubber
on asphalt sounds like a river.
On calm nights I can look down
at Lake Union and see the lights
of the city reflected in dark water.
No stars. Heaven here is I-5,
north to Canada, south to Mexico,
but below, as in an empty cathedral
filled with broken bottles,
random car parts, and old newspapers,
I lie here and breathe gas.
Some day these pillars will fall,
but listening to a river tonight
I'll sleep well under the overpass.
From "Bird's Nest In Your Hair" by Brian Jobe
May 21, 2017
May 21, 2017 at 10:13 PM UTC
could
killing hasselhoff
be the next
big lebowski?
well, to me it already
is...
i'd prefer the whole:
killing off monty python
sense of comic...
to stress the concept of
individualism,
but be "offended"
by subjectivity?
what's this?
a lesson in how
a pendulum works?
ball hits ball,
ball hits another ball
puritanical objectivism...
actually: talking to an old
man in a park about his
bike makes: pretty much all
the sense there is...
after all, the movie is an
archetypal study of
the book of yob / hiob / jobe -
have i suddenly plaid
a false note on a flute?
o.k.: joe'b:
i.e. 'b = blib.
******* really gagged
to get technical with
language...
it's called:
an oyster eating
a herring that churns it into
a pearl...
and how many human tongues
are actually
enslaved by Poseidon
in these shell creatures?
but to discount subjectivity per se,
and only allow an en masse
objectivism...
too, much, grounding
in physics...
physics with a ******
nose, i.e. having to discuss
biological (subjective) realism...
realism, i.e. ****
back into physical reality;
or rather:
subjectivism, yes, in the focus
on intra-space,
and yes, objectively speaking
in the focus of inter-space...
which:
hardly a case for the "offended",
as if getting ****** off needs
a thesaurus cipher-cloak...
now, in the vicinity,
in the immediate sense,
an anti-thesis
of dasein: or rather,
in english translation:
there's being...
which implies
an inclination toward: in situ.
i still think
killing hasselhoff
is the next cult movie on
the lines of
the big lebowski...
4.3/10 - 1,319 votes...
(out of) /
(based on) -
my ***
my my, haven't we become
very, subtle, creatures?
sure, others prefer the tailoring
of a tux, as opposed
to, being pedantic.
Feb 23, 2018
Feb 23, 2018 at 3:20 PM UTC