This is a work in progress. This is possibly a post that I will delete and rework and put into parts. I do sort of write fast. My poetic reflections can be quick, and rapt, and open up more space to be abstract.
This is a combination of years of thinking. 8 years in Kansas City from 2004 to 2012. California in between( where poetry started in 2008 and 2009) And the last 5 years now functioning in a place like Los Angeles where learning never ends( if you want it to). God does reach out in a box and with limited knowledge that is where He stays. However, the bigger relevant question is this:
Where is He now? Where is He in my life? Where, where, where? He used to be in one place. He used to be a moving cloud and pillar. He used to ask to be in a temple. And now He is where? Thinking about how we grow and move people then can ask: where are you? Are you really being you? So to think God remains in one place can be false and misleading.
The more we reach past that way of thinking the more you can realize that fear shrinks everything. Fear diminishes the narrow path and creates a narrow in a false sense. So, why he even stick with this pursuit of Him? Because the Ruckus comes from the substance. What you loudly proclaim, that is developed on the inside over years of fellowship and study. My job as an aspiring messenger is to challenge myself and you with these tensions we live. Don’t give up, God hasn’t. And He won’t stay where you want Him too. He is asking you to walk on the water, even if you don’t see Him yet.
That is the laboring,
Cause I got a lot about you,
I got a lot of things I might not
When it all didn’t matter,
I had a world to shatter,
I had a mirror full of disaster.
You had some memories to,
Some memories to get to.
I used to hear the old wisdom
Speak, ” all of life is about getting
Whole, and losing control.”
I heard those speeches about
Bitter like leaches,
It was sucking you up,
It was messing you up.
I heard those sermons to,
I sat by in blue, entertained by
At least I could run back to His place,
At least I had a temple to stay in.
At least I had You to pardon the sin.
Now I am just motel always,
In the flames of worry,
In the fray of your body,
In the memory of tragedy,
It was carving out a place for me.
You and I, we had some thoughts to
Share, we had some sin to bare,
But didn’t mom start this?
Didn’t dad add to this?
Didn’t church just ignore this?
Didn’t the spiritual matter more
Than getting rich?
It was painted thinly,
This truth of tragedy.
It was painted in safety,
That all of life should be about
Healing, or getting clean,
Or getting to a better place
Is the motel the sin?
Is running into the mess apart
Of the plan?
I can pack,
I can pack the heat,
I can carry the retreat,
I can fake it in the sun,
I can ask all the right questions,
You don’t know what I am really thinking.
I want to kill to,
I want to get faded to.
I want to do all these things with
The innocence in you.
“I believe you are the fire that can burn me clean.”
I thought the preacher had the answers for me.
I thought he was the Moses to set me free,
I thought it was like an onion,
But I am not working at it,
I am not looking at it,
I am just letting my soul sit.
Sitting in the temple you made,
The place you want all of us to stay,
The place I can never give to
Without having to come back for more.
I was loving the safety,
I was building that temple.
I was adding to your bricks,
I was yelling with all your tricks!
I, too, had some thinking to do.
I, too, wanted that same kind of
If I never asked another question,
And i just let it fall at your feet,
I would still ask for the retreat.
I can’t live this way anymore.
I can’t let you live for me,
I can’t let it be about feeling better,
I don’t see good anywhere,
I don’t see gain anywhere.
I don’t see blessings anywhere.
I don’t see my speech changing anything.
Did I create with words in the first place?
Did I make light,
thats His right,
I see cost and getting lost.
I see lust upon lust,
I see women after women
That has the same opinion,
And the same body,
And the same eyes,
Staring right back at me.
I see a thousand good opinions,
I see a thousand words you call
Future, and Prophets, And all
The benefits of listening to it.
I see a lot of wrong in the way I
write. I see a lot more easily in
The middle of the night.
I see a real kind of work,
The kind that makes you sore,
The kind that is driven by more,
I still got that same mattress,
And the same movie fortress.
I got the knock, I got your hand at the door,
I got a love affair with sleeping on the floor.
I’ve had more nights that looked like
More words that looked like promise,
More hours spent looking like righteous,
More nights with you in the back of my mind,
More time spent with the wrong kind.
More days that looked like light,
That felt more like bitter and sour,
And all those hours called study,
That did nothing but add to the options.
What kind of man am I anyway?
I do the same things you call sin,
And hate, and judgement.
I, too, have lofty in me.
I have wordy in me.
I have wisdom you can’t call
I got this strange ability to
Shine, and to take up all your time.
I got this gift of looking right at you,
But not seeing you, I mean, really?
It is just the temple I wanted,
Some bricks, some mortar,
Some safety away from the culture.
I can’t hear you cuss,
I can’t hear about your lust,
Or your weekend with her.
I can’t bear to see the truth,
It seems buried and hidden
And right in front of me.
I got that urge for the floor,
To call it waiting and patience.
To call doing nothing having peace?
To call fear resting
And to call blessing
The appearance of Gospel.
Cause I am taking all this money with me,
Money from the pictures I have been taking of you.
Money from all this work I am doing.
This earth that is fading,
And staying in the same place.
I got this temple,
It stays the same,
It demands no change.
It calls me worship,
It covers all of it up.
I got nothing to carry,
But all that is sown in tears.
I got nothing to prove,
But that I just am what I am,
I got no more ambitions to
Live in safety and to call it
I got some friends that are doing it right,
I got way more that are up all night.
I got no ending that I am sure of,
Cause if you want to listen to what
Has already been written,
Most of you are fading too.
You seem to think that certainty
Comes from getting clarity,
But the less you crave the clear
Path, the more you live for
What you have today.
You seem to think that God owes you
An answer, and a plan, and an easy way
To have all the great things you deserve?
That sounds so harsh and unloving,
And who am I, just this 30 something
Year old American, telling you what to think.
I am not saying anything about you,
I am talking about me.
I am the one that dies someday,
And I am not getting buried next to you.
I love my mom, maybe to much?
But she has nothing to say for me on that day.
I love my sister. She is incredible, but she has
A life to answer for too.
I love my dad, as much as its been up and down
With him, but he has more to answer for, He is old.
See, I love my leaders, pastors, and everyone who has
Ever said anything true, and humbled themselves when
They have been wrong, and all those people that stood by
Me when death was just a minute away.
I am grateful for others, but they don’t have a lot to
Answer for when it comes to me.
You are bare, you creature of light.
You are unfair, you creature of death.
You are unjustly justified by your own sense
Of entitlement, yet all of life is about facing
You could give up now?
Most of the world is going to Hell.
So, why even try to do any good,
You will just get your head cut off on Television.
Why say I follow Him,
When all you get is hatred and wrath,
Not from above, but from within.
Why, even end this ballad of observations,
And these real raw and exposed thoughts.
It might be easier to hide, for now,
But it won’t be on that day.