Meaning Behind the Prose and other Memorial Thoughts

The last few months has been a very prolific time of writing a lot of my stream of consciousness flow of poetry. This blog has had many aspirations in forms of video, some stories, mostly essays and movie/film reviews but out of about 1900 posts now at least half of those has been poetry. I am a huge fan of myself. And does it get anymore self-centered than that? Yes, it can and yes, it can.

I am a huge fan of myself through the lens of God’s saving grace. It is much more than just a one time thing when we embrace Jesus. Our lives tell the story. As Paul says in 2 Cor. 3-‘you are our Epistle!’ I am the living epistle of Christ and all He has done in me. My brothers and sisters in Christ, so are you. The greatest testimony to the world is our love for each other. When people can see committed healthy friendships and healthy loving this point in the world that says a lot about the God we love.

I am a huge fan of the journey. A lot of what you have been reading the last couple of months has been about living on this earth and knowing that you are made for another world but that world is going to stay on the earth in the form of a ‘new earth!’

C.S. Lewis( who gets quoted more than any other person I know) said, “If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we were made for another world.” Of course anyone can read this and think that anything on this earth really doesn’t matter so I can do what the gnostics and Greek thinkers did and disregard this creation we live in. NO!

The Apostles desired to be present with the Lord..they had such an intense expectation of heaven, yet it was their focus on eternity that enabled them to “enter the Kingdom with much tribulations!”

The line, ‘the earth is now, the earth is future, the earth is not going anywhere’ just makes sense to me that today matters and so does the future hope of restoration and so does an established truth that the earth is not going to disappear or explode. This is not the season four finale to Lost where Mr. Linus moved the disappears and ends up somewhere we were all really, really lost after that.

I am being a little funny but nonetheless eternity has been in my mind. We have so much emphasis on how to live today and how to pull God’s blessings into our lives right now but is that really it? Is the purpose of life to make a checklist of presents we want for Christmas and one by one God sends someone in the form of a man to deliver them to us? Is the incarnation just about gifts?

I am actually insulted by the false cookie cutter euphemisms that we champion as “the Gospel” that really just sound like a five year old getting told that Christmas morning is coming really soon and you better be good or else Santa might skip you this year. Yet, the heart behind the gift giving has more to do with how I behave in order to “receive” something. Yes, ‘we have received every blessing in Christ Jesus’ and Ephesians is an incredible book on who we are in Christ, but I think we mistake God’s blessings with earthly provision. Yes, God does provide for us so in that sense we are always to be grateful. Jesus commanded us ‘do not worry about your life’ and also says, ‘is not life more than..’physical’ things. But as followers of Christ it seems much more sound to say that before the gifts came to us the ultimate gift of Christ atoning for our sins was to be given to the world. What then was the point of Abraham almost killing his Son out of his unrelenting obedience to God? We see that God was testing his faith but God was also getting humanity ready for Christmas. God was getting the world ready for the ultimate gift in the closest form possible. Jesus as a man. Jesus as fully man and fully God. Hear gratitude in these poems and in these posts. I don’t want to relish in how much life can suck but you do have to embrace that. I want to relish in this unwavering faith in God’s goodness no matter the newscast, no matter the Drudge Report.

If you have heard the idea in the last couple of months that life is not always what we think it should be, then you are hearing correctly. I transpose the past into a lot of things so sometimes it doesn’t make sense. Here’s what I mean: “Ink from coldplay plays on repeat—” Yes, this song is so good right now and I don’t know why but I just listen to it and probably in writing but the next line is a childhood image on middle school and high school relationships: “All those past lovers, past flings, past heart strings plucked and thrown in the gutter, was it better?Was it worse? Or did I never know true love first?”

I think I want to change the world and I don’t really believe it sometimes. The other main idea here is love. Skyscraper love was from thinking about tall buildings and how the one time I went to Times Sqaure it seemed so insane how high up those buildings could go but the clouds, the darkness and the things in the air could blur the Skyscraper and the skyline. I wrote: “a city life is scary, A club drug is passed down to me, who drank this before? Come out of her it says, out for good, a shout for short, a proclamation for long!” The idea that we have built altars around sin and death and have called it ‘just having fun’ is sickening to God but heartbreaking more than anything. Our role as followers of Christ is not to point out people’s addictions( when we have our own too) but to do Ephesians 5( a passage I’ve been in for a couple of months). We walk as children of light and in this walk we expose the darkness by the way that we walk.

Memorial Day is more than just honoring the troops. It should also be a reminder of man’s identity crisis. When man does not know who he is, he is prone to violence. I don’t say this to make a trite statement against the military. It is not a small thing. I just made a presentation last week on PTSD and the treatment options in them. In the research I watched videos on these therapy sessions with those who fought over seas. It was very eye opening and something I can’t connect to. But I also want to cut through the sentiment sometimes and turn the camera on the person doing the filming. I love war movies and I hate them at the same time. I realize that my ethical compass gets broken when I see what I am seeing. Even films that add humor to mask the rather death like tendencies of war still work it for you and make you question your birthplace. I don’t understand war but I do make a RUCKUS about the Gospel. Their is something far scarier than war coming onto the planet. A great shift. The line in poems for me is “the great rearrange/ a rearrange.” Jesus returning to the earth will start the greatest war the world has ever known and it will be more severe then anything we have ever seen. Can we face this warrior Jesus and embrace his perfections and trust in His leadership?

I.S.I.S. is not our enemy. Islam is not the enemy. Though the expression in the extremists is gnarly and has yet to really interrupt our comfortable lives the forces of evil will make I.S.I.S. look like a high school shooting rather then World War 3. We love violence. We love Mass Effect and Call to Duty and Grand Theft Auto and everything and anything that has to do with blowing heads off people. For men its a disgusting perversion of how we are meant to fight and meant to war but for love. We are God’s warriors not just warriors. I don’t give a crap about trying to be tough and study how cool weapons are and how fun hunting can be( I am not slamming that) but their is a difference between thinking just being a man is being tough, violent and that you know about guns and engines. False love and false war is in us and upon us. The war against porn is in tandem to the war on false war. Why else would Jesus put anger and lust right next to each other in His Sermon on the Mount. Memorial day is about honoring those who have suffered but anything that is suffering apart from Christ just in turn is the creation worshiping itself. You will die in your sorrow without Jesus. I remember mercy and love but I do not support false masculinity. I honor and respect what the troops have done but I realize a more home front battle is being fought and it is over what the man is. A man is to be conformed to Christ and to be like Him in every way and which of our lives.

Let us remember our warrior King, King Jesus.

Lies in the cracks

I am new to daily life,

I am new to mundane

An expert at insane,

Sugar addiction,

Love friction,

Lack of fruit for this

Cup I feel is never to


Lies in the cracks,

Lies in the backs that walk

This earth–

Oh God, I have no answers for the futures that

Await me–

Just kids play in the background–

I am weak in every way of the word,

I am on that couch again where you

Sit with me,

A couch family was rarely felt,

Its strips of rips of cloths of colors

Blurred blue now,

Embarased–for I can’t even spell it right,

Never did I like that house we lived in,

It was always shaking,

It was always faking its appearance upon

Me, mountain view behind us,

But heavy rocks upon us—

Where is wrath now?

Upon the world or in

The home? Safety was never

Found, church affairs, no one

Sees your family life, the way you

Use the knife with words to send

Your kids out the door, to tell your

Wife no more saying no to me,

I am the man, submit to me..



I Am The Mission

Memories, a double-edged tragedy

Making copies, carrying past trophies,

Always on time, always loud in the morning—

Wake up call, five eggs and lots of coffee,

Daily is like laundry, same colors, same

Temperature, burger King memories, soda

For free, Starbucks in the wake up calls—

A daily pass to get out back in the world

So cruel—wrecking ball would appall us

All! White clothes for the darkened colors

Of the world’s best sinners! I have a feast

But are the lame invited? Are the blind around

Me even if they can’t see my faceless invitation

My heartless inventions—

I am a homosexual! Yes, I am! I am a lesbian!

I am a sexual predator, I am a_____don’t say it!

I am a blank page of messiness, I am a proclivity

Against gravity, I am in love with sin’s cavity—

I am shiny on the outside and gross on the inside!

All this depravity why should we say it ain’t so!

For failure is how you grow

Sinless is for the Savior

Sinful is for the mercy bender like me

I am in need of good news for all I see is bad

Words and letters written all over of me—

I am Your epistle! I am love’s missle!

I am the mission God—to save me is Your


Memories, a double-edged tragedy

Making copies of the old me,

Handing them out around town

You appeared like a gardener

You appeared for a garden like me

You appear to break the thorns I carry

I am the thistle

I am love’s missile

I am incapable of saving myself—

Start a fire God, burn that which is already

Smoke, is nothing but a joke of an effort,

Is a green screen full of fake dessert

Sweet, good and pleasure—its all from You

Teach me how to love what is right!

Is it over yet?

Is it over yet?

It’s a tepid stream

It’s a river’s dream

It’s a fiery stream

Absurd it sounds this grace

That abounds—I am dark in the night,

Hidden under the covers,

A heated lover,

A heated freedom fighter—

It’s a free fall in this city of

Angels, this love works all the angles—

Worthy is this life I live!

For Your gifts are still being unwrapped—

I have the mind that you died with,

That had thorns in it, I am regret on

Repeat cause I still feel the heat,

It burns and keeps me up at night—

Snowflake cities they were once apart

Of my memories—presence with the presents

On Christmas morning—dad had his coffee,

Its maker on repeat, its smell like a hollow shell

Of a shaped day, his munchies, his endless fights

With death—television was at the center,

Kids are actors, no, really we were!

Center stage we took,

Couldn’t read a book,

Put it all on looks—had those bright eyes

In the night sky, had those crushes to the

Sky—a hesitant soul lived in the hollow shell

Of yesterday’s dreams—what is regret?

What is the pain it brings? Is it just a memory,

Those things you could have done?

Is it over yet?

This life you have given—

To live it the weapon to wield,

To feel the dirt, to live in the light—

To embrace pain cause it will come—

To not live numb, to face being dumb-

To be smart, to be on the edge, to be

Sharp, but to love with all your heart

It is not over yet, there is still time for

No regret

Skyscraper Lover

L.A., this is my home.

Skyscraper kind of love

Empire building from above

Kingless will never be an endless

Dilemma, I am a period but you

Are a comma, You are the dashes

With continuance, You are the carry

Over before it’s all over—ink and pen

Is this tongue when you begin—the ready

Writer, the white horse rider, a name we

Don’t know, but wherever I go there is

The battle, I am the ax you swing, I am

The nation you reprimand, I am the nation

Of silly, of how come, I am the comma after

Sin’s death sentence, I am lasting, I am

Continuing because of You—this name

You drew is a free fall, an endeavor to save us

All—lonely in L.A. some would say, I know there

Are angels but where are its wings?

I have lost sight of the heavenly symphony

Made to enter into something greater than myself—

Made for love and nothing else

Made to pursue, to hunt, to rip through all

That fear has to offer, all that fear can falter,

My life on the altar, a man of sacrifice doesn’t

Think twice of the thrice fold promise:

The word, the blood, the water that carries

Me, the word of washing, the life of gushing with

Light—mom prayed it early and its sun is still rising

In me—hunger, thirst and a dearth of emptiness since

The birth of this Prophet—I am at school sitting still

Like I should, printing pages making powerpoints,

Making slides, printing out more pages of bank statements-

Going back down memory lane when the sky was plain, I

Have this love like an airplane—mom is on it and daily

Rides the heavens for me—death is faced but I won’t carry

Its sting—love, early at best, is ready for the great departure—

Where once again we will land on this fallen ground and set

Up a righteous town, one with Your endless crown—L.A. seems

Nothing compared to what is coming, but You are with me,

In the stars, in the regret, in the wet cement of dreams I can

Create—love is the answer, see it like a skyscraper

The Middle

Middle hallway nights
Fights and flights to catch—
Frozen love, frozen pizza, frozen
Growth—radioactive was the adjective
Descriptions for the heavenly prescriptions
Needed to sleep still at night,
Carved my name with a pocketknife
Waiting up til midnight with the hallway
Lights—can’t take this anymore, gotta love
Better, gotta make due with what isn’t here
The earth is crying now, the earth is waiting now,
The earth will not fade away—
Middle is never here to settle like water
In the kettle, I am a burner kind of lover,
I am a blue kind of flame, is it gay to love your
Man friends? Loyal is now called gay—
Called find another way, called never show
Your affection for men don’t need it anyway—
Respect me, love me, touch me but don’t hold
Me! Middle affairs on the way to work over there—
Never satisfied with one size with one wife, with one
Women, with one home to live in—never better,
Never weather we could run away in—
Middle hallway talk, meet me halfway God whenever
I can’t even step one step, meet me when I cheat on You,
When I love the forgery affair where my affections stay
Carved like in a tree at night when those beach days ruled
Us anyway—carve Your name on my heart, may it never
Move away—in the middle, up above or ahead in the front

Way Back When

This is dedicated to my older sister Alyssa Ahern who is moving soon! I love you dearly.

Met you way back when

Pain was undercover

Side room sitting, leather

Couch knitting, up all night

For the thrill of the light lost

Next to us—shortened bangs

With blonde looking ends—

Were they split? Was it worth it?

I never changed the inside of

Myself, it was the outer courts

That got to me, the outer places

Of superficial discovery—

The reservoir days, the reserved

Days of passion bottled up inside-

‘embrace this place’ on repeat,

Tears for the in between, joy

For the hockey games, for all

That I couldn’t blame—two

Hands in the stands, you came

With two hands—

My colors have changed,

That bathroom exchange—

Shared it and it never circled

The drain—why did you have

To leave so soon?

Jetway discoveries,

Jetlag love on delay

You moved to L.A.

Before those dreams hit

Our sleep too—

Sister, brother, love

For mother, where is your

Father? We always asked—

No just on vacation

But on placation for

The reservations made—

Someone to sit with,

Needed you daily,

What about girls?

What about those thrills?

What about when she can’t

Get out of this head of mine?

She never really did, but you

Tied the lid, never discussed it

Instead, race wars for you, the

T.V. on repeat, the VHS on

Repeat, the love we had on delete—

Empty has defined me,

Emptied out for Jesus now—

Couch family I wanted you

And maybe never got you,

But Sis you will be missed,

So I embrace the time we have

Left—though our love will

Never end


Sitting at the shoreline wasting time
Summer of fireworks, summer by the docks,
Summer with no socks—now these feet are dirty,
This heart is weary, this head has never rested so
Easily upon these shoulders You have given me,
Government where is Your governor? Is He righteous
Yet? Is the earth covered yet? Is this dirt wet, is this clay
The way I was made? Formed and fashioned has lost its
Fashion sense—
No longer closer do we stay but this love is to good
For me to receive it all over again—
Shoreline kind of living,
Those friends over there they have jumped
Right in, now a fisher of men, now a tax collecting
Fiend you are, now a friend He calls you, now a
Lover He divides You,
Shadow power for the shadow
Coward, murder in your hands,
Now I plead with reality, please
Don’t invade this weary land just
Yet! I know its dry and the river is
Low but we still gotta know how
Heaven can grow—
Is this message up to me?
Up to us self absorbed friends
That You have called—
Set apart, set in stone, set
On the shoreline of choice and
Destiny, of the mystery and the
Destiny—I choose, I have the choice,
I choose to crossover into that scary
River of life that is nothing less then
The whole truth—made for love,
Made for fullness, made not for
The dullness of selfishness—
Shoreline no more,
Cross over


Forehead reads deceased

Heart bleeds increased—

February strong, sanded memories

Mountain backdrop, I cannot get up now—

Out of order it reads—first to live, second to

Die, third day to be raised up high—three days

This stick will perish, this love will cherish You

All over again—that middle week, that middle

Weakness—I saw you looking, saw you waiting,

All my friends left anyways, corn mazes and empty

Fields could make me yield to You—It hurts now to

Think of the losses—the white box detox, the driveway

Memories of driving away with your loss, with your innocence

Lost—it’s a glory road paved with pain, just need some silver linings

Now, its just a sliver some would say

Forehead reads deceased but my

Story reads increased—

Death to life,

You are the risen one!

The cops chased the cape and

There’s still an ache—that black Knight

Never lived it right—no one can save certain

Memories—all will parish and love will cherish

The inside of me, clean me out and set me with

A fresh heart, one that bleeds love, bleeds mercy

Bleeds cherish me before I parish


16“Behold, I have inscribed you on the palms of My hands; Your walls are continually before Me.Isa. 49:16

Covered in ink, tattooed for glory

But should I show it? Something to remember You—

How the summer was never meant for adventure but

How it has come to that—do I make money off of this

Reflection? Probably not but the worth is in the wait—

This tent is for rent and I keep repeating that—this body

Is more broken then yesteryear, then the love way down there

Below the sea where no one can see—

Killjoy for this party called hanging out, called games and toys

And loud noises—but without love I am a no show just like

Those who once said yes, who once gave their best, where are they


Now I am covered in ink, it makes me think—

Something to remember Your mercy—

Hide us, run from us! The wrath is here to stay,

The lamb slain is here to stay—

I am a doubting kind of man, a hollow right hand seems

To swoop down upon me—I just have words and memories—

Those bright hallways, that half caffeinated waiting room,

That circular observatory, those hallways of glory, those

Daily take downs, those card game labors, those in between

Friends that sat on the curb with me,

Colored red for emergency, but isn’t mercy

The urgency? It hurts leaving some behind, leaving

To a new city to hide behind—

Like the ink I carry I will not forget those friendships

For they will be with me forever and in forever we

Will continue, for aren’t we apart of that continuing

City, will You build my walls continually—the right ones,

The bright one’s, the loveless adventures in the fluorescent

Sunrise, in this plastic city called reality—it is here, it is now,

But I wait for You continually, ready to call this place Your