Pennies Of Innocence

I had the bricks,
The cement, the dirt,
The flirt, the right things
To say, the sun to fade away,
In my mind is a castle,
Endless hassle, endless
Sand building, endless
Rewinding—had the spread,
The right food, the right mood,
The right sanded edges of you—
The border, the borderline—
The edge of night, the edge of
Doing right—
I have this bank,
I have this plank,
I have these pennies I have
Been storing up,
I have the money all
Piled up—
This mind is a pure blood
Bank, a streaming engine
For those it is saved for—
A reservation,
A pure and Holy invasion—
I have stained it, I have
Spent it—on me, on the
Parts, on the body,
On the endless conformity
To a life of not purity—
Pennies of innocence,
Pennies of white,
Pennies of right
Are not out of sight—
I have wasted purity
Wasted it on me,
On the many parts of
Those that have wasted
It too—
Shall another generation
Live dull and dead with
Feet like lead—blood bank
Gone and spent—now I
Need the oxygen—
To live and breathe
Again

History Maker

To my family, to my sister especially and little Noah. The future is scary to try to know sometimes but God is alive and we are not here by accident.

History maker
Heart pacemaker
Ambulance chaser
Find me in court,
Find me in the sorting through
Of the files and the memories
And the photographs of the past
Laughs we had, all that we never
Had, all the nights of extended
Adolescence, all the iridescence,
All the little things you said to
Me, you were older sister, older
Wisdom, older kingdom to come,
You went ahead, went first, went
Before me, dark has followed us,
The shadow and the sound it has
Come back around, the devil is
That bevel of a sketch around us,
History maker I say, for the generations
Can’t go away, their past is our present,
Our future is our kids, they walk and talk
Around us now, Noah to grow up, Noah
To own it, Noah to be loved more than
We ever were, I spent it, that thing called
Innocence—I sprayed it away, drew its
Name upon the wall, gave it to whoever
Would stay with me long enough to love
Me right—I cannot go back, I cannot change
That thing called purity, called clean, called
Never messed with—for this little sister
Generation, this little sister beneath me,
Is she spoken for, has she been claimed,
Modesty is far from those around me,
For they live beneath the surface,
Face lift, body adjustment, skinny is
Killing everyone! Blood is on our hands,
History can’t change that easily!
Bury me God, bury me in the ground
But let me live and change my generation,
Let me live a full life without thinking twice,
Let me live with a pure heart to impart it
To the one’s beneath me—for the love of
Family, and the love of the generations—
Change the pacemaker in me, beating
Fully, beating wholly for you, beating not
Just to survive, beating to come alive!
Save me, save this generation,
History maker is me

My Generation

This young adult land that we live in. The phrase ‘generation me’ is from a book by Jean Twinge, but it echoes true to this day. I am wrestling with my own worship of self and that thing that says, ‘do whatever the culture does, just drift, just do nothing(essentially) with your life.There is purpose in Christ.

I never meant to
Is the motto we follow
My generation, my eighties
Friends, the decade of change,
Under the influence I bring the
Sway of the norm, the most
Popular storm—just drift,
Just shift divisions, just
Trust in empty provisions—
Incarnation, God came near,
Generation Me, do you hear?

You drift and you float,
You gloat and you mope,
You are the highest of
Highest upon the depths
Of depression and the cavity
Of depravity—haunted we live
By many dissatisfactions, sick
It becomes, like a disease, like
An infection, like the intersection
Of good verse best, we settle,
We strive, we try to survive—

Living, abundantly, killing that
Force called happy, called full,
Called life not in a lull, called
Fanatic, called feeling, called
Never acting on that which will
Save you—all our ideals are
Spinning wheels—the freeway
Is giving up the dead bodies,
For no one knows how to
Slow down, how to stop
Destruction, how to end
Their own corruption,
I cannot save you Generation
But I can lead you—lead you
To Him, lead you to burn, again
And again—be still and know—
Get out of just coasting,
Or just drifting,
Men be men
Let us lead and
Love in that

Colluded Collision

Been thinking of my influences and the day it all becomes right, which implies much fear and trembling. Living to stay worthy.

Young Forever has me in this endeavor

Living resilient has wearied my flesh,

What am I gonna read about next?

40 million strong ten years back,

now a decade under the influence,

American Pie leading the way not

Mentioning the death of the legends

I am hearing it clearly now and then,

What sexual immorality has done to

The spine of understanding and the

Dwindling of a generation in disease

Its been enough to appease but I am

Certainly not at ease to read of these

Stats of perversion clouding the mind

Not to mention men not kind in their

Lucrative pervasive operations,

Nefariously pornography has become

Notorious and laborious to make more

Then just a couple of bucks, in the

Realm of protection I’ve been seeking it

With a new invention why so much perversion

These days? But I have to slip inside the sound

Machine of common sense and blame someone

For this current mess, I point and click all the time

That Hollywood is wasting my time then the

Generation effect hits me in the gut, this will

Never stop ceasing to amaze all of us, it will

Seem like it will pass but I must sit and rehash,

There’s to much backlash for what we see, it has

Done more to me then I can imagine, what we want

To believe about right and wrong come from the sound

Of the song and the waves in front of me that educate me

At nighttime, what’s twisted is uplifted, what sells is what’s

Promoted, what’s promoted is voted upon and continual

And will pay the price eternal, will last forever and will

Stand alone, will someday feel like it will own and last

And stay indelible but then the day comes for all the

Jail cells to be released and the crimes to be written down

And the books opened up and coolhunting will come clean

And the judge will not be mean, He will be right and that

Will be the end of the night and the continuation of day

Seen in the Son who payed the price for perversion, who

Went beyond just redemption, who rules and reigns in

The midst of this crooked generation and all my

Angst and anticipation will be seen in Him in perfect

Calculation, I will only bite the dust and go lower then

I exist to hopefully be raised up above the mess,

Then what is wrong will be right and I will answer

With all my might—choose Him tonight before its

To late—money will burn along with all that is

Wasted, let me not be late to this endeavor, what

You do carries on forever