OverCome
We must overcome
And not succumb
To body flirts
And dirt of
Dusts underneath
Fall leaves for
Christmas
Leaves me
As eyes fade
To black
And I sit
Back and
Talk the talk
That this year
Will be better
Than the rest,
And what I have
To offer is pure
Weakness, Its
All I know in
The shortness
Of this life
No End
No end to the healing lines
Blind eyes opened and
Spoken oppression
Dissipating
Anticipating
5,000 fans
Of winded revival
Fires, where will
This renewal go,
Where will this
Afterglow blow,
Where will all
The lines end,
Where will Heaven
Begin and the earth
End, it shall be both,
It shall be least severe
Means to save the boast
I Corinthians I shall
Lean, glean, and bend
To be clean, revival
Is not survival, its
Overcoming every
Shortcoming that
Seems to be in the way
Yes, it is true. It has been a back and forth adventure for the last couple of years but I am officially moving back to Kansas City April 16th. So, I hope to see all you there. I will be working with student ministries and the Awakening Teen Camp. Helping Zack, Caleb, Jamie, Sarah, Fran, Cristina and other people that I don’t know their names yet and o, yeah, Zac Efron, I mean Corey Asbury; him too.
Can’t wait..you all rock. And to make a plug for Skype, just imagine looking at the people you are talking to. GIve yourself some time and really think about it. Then think some more, then get skype for free, then try it, then let it change your life, then let this sentence keep going on and on and on…
Conspiracy
It was tears from the first time aroma
Of your love penetrating the pride in
Me to crumple into nothingness at your
Presence so easily dismissed as ethereal
Or abnormal, but deep inside it was real
Beyond anything man could conjure up,
Streaming piano sound of PB preaching
Us into the intimacy conspiracy,
Unproven theory that God had to be the
Instigator, the navigator in high school
Disaster, was it real for my sister, was
It real for my brother, the great disturbance,
The Ruckus of His presence, evading, impeding,
At any given moment, June humidity,
His humility granted to me, car gravity
A hostility, a cringing mobility towards
The majesty, could it be that in these blue
Chairs you hear lists of fears, lists of reasons
For not touching, not the second coming,
Just finding a reason why I’m serving food
To all these people in a bad mood,
Where is God in all that we do, is it possible
For weeping sessions to be our life’s
Progression, our frustration with knowing
Heaven is a minute away,
The world will watch and stay awe struck like
A dump truck emptying out the junk from that
Rag tag shed in the woods, is this our life,
Broken into pieces of desperation in sequences
Of writing as a disease unable to heal for what
I know to be real, its here in these getaway get ups,
And own it moments, brandings and scabbing,
Lessons and addressing new envelopes to the
Only friends who still just sit and listen, wasn’t
Winter Camp that changed our amp, our ability
To listen got clearer and since then we saw sky
Splitting heaven above us, just a tad bit more yeast
To the bread of our satisfaction, summer retreats of
Endless hours of prayer and supplication,
The conspiracy proven true through and through
Each day of simple setting devotion, past just
Retreats and a fire rally,
It was in the tears of hearing His voice
That I had no other choice but to raise
My own voice and demand change,
Demand a blessing, a life to rearrange
Around the heavenly, maybe it was just
Me that bought the conspiracy, that God is
All we got, in action, in thought, in high school
And in not knowing that tomorrow is a walk
In the park guarantee, maybe it was just me
That walked plainly with pad and pen,
Writing a weapon, to remember what he
Has done, waiting in the valley of the unsaid,
Maybe the conspiracy will prove true, if
We stick to Him, He will stick to us, and
Over a lifetime of trust, we will be one,
I say to the conspiracy—be done, intimacy
Has won.
The Everlasting Gray Floor
It was everlasting at 4am and
We were just acting our age
Facing the endless stage of
No guilt felt but love on a
Stilt step to heaven, a little
Bread and leaven this bunch
That just might skip lunch
Because much is required
To battle in flight the
Hay wired society that
Pulls its own gravity,
Fills in their cavity of
Slowing decay of humanity
Outside these cinder blocks
Under trailer parks, the lights
Never stop illuminating as
Well as the Spirit ruminating
Through damaged lives, to
The amaurotic narcotic victims
Of unwarranted hate, this is
Why we stay still and pray,
For power in poverty is our
Stability, the world, its upward
Mobility, its race to beat each
Other to death and eternal
Torment like climbing in
Wet cement, eventually
Grounded and unshakable
Until Christ the jackhammer
Comes and breaks over and
Over until next December, will
You come back to one thing,
And remember the song you
Used to sing, so elusively does
The confused bedazzle you with
Seemingly satisfying bling and
A shiny gold ring, what will church
Do then we he or she comes into
Our comfortable endless sanctuary,
Will we plead mercy and spread
Tersely are our arguments at
The door, our feet stay close
To the gray floor, we hinge
And abhor what we know has
Saved us.
Everlasting at 6am kept us
Up wondering when will
He come, when will this
Emergence of death to
Self be done, and for the
Million times this song
Sings, I think we have
A rock to hold onto,
We have a river to
Run into, we have a
Brother to have breakfast
With, we have a sinner
No longer, a mediator,
A man, a branch, a life
Like we’ve never known
And his everlasting presence
Sings and stings us forever,
He won’t relent until we
Forge together eternal
Union.
Here is the bread and
The cup of communion
Here is our union, hours
Of feet crunching this
Gray floor, whatever you
Desire, We are here.
THE RUCKUS JOURNAL 