We must overcome

And not succumb

To body flirts

And dirt of

Dusts underneath

Fall leaves for


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

No end to the healing lines

Blind eyes opened and

Spoken oppression



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

24 Days Til Kansas City

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…




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

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




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.