This is a prayer I’ve been praying. Hope you relate to coming back to Him daily.


Been transgressing recently,

Daily in fact been munching on the apple in the tree

Of life in front of me, been eating at the Garden of Eden,

Now hair is receding and chest beating, so suddenly and

Regularly it has become that I have become numb and

Thirsty for mercy cause lately I’ve been selfishly persisting

At the bite of the apple, the tree of life floating in the distance

Now a Cherub guarding the pathway into the veins that bled

So I could overcome, sweating as a reminder, heat always a

Good thing, the burner behind me, now a retainer in my mouth

For I have no words to express the mess of the transgression

Inside of me now, words of life, not in repetition, Holy will

Now in the intuition and he ain’t touching my condition nor

Changing the volition, male and female both fall apart now

And I split again inside my sin and fall down before Him,

Holy is the way, creativity has brought some severity, for

I have all the perfect poetry for standing perfectly guilty,

Now blood stains fill the carpet and I am left to harp on it,

Now a harbinger of mercy is needed to set me straight but

All that’s left is me at the gate—narrow you yell, that’s the

Way out of Hell, living hard but hardly living I seem to keep

Hearing my own voice all the time, then you pull the car around

And drive me out of this town, into new ways of Holy living,

See all I need to hear is that its worth waiting, all the pure and

Undefiled motivations they have been left on the side with guilt

And shame and all the wrong names, what I’ve forgotten is the

Only begotten and the way of death He already died for me,

Crucified I have become upside down on my own cross, get

Down from there Peter, you got to suffer another way, and

Love rooted deep makes me come to you with the ash heap.

Renewed and loved no more wasting it again, for selfish I am

And that’s not pushing you away, still I am eating the apples

Of transgression, daily munching, daily combusting, but now

Daily I am coming back to you again—please renew, I push

Delete and put myself back on my feet

Out Of My Grave

Out Of My Grave


I’m the only one coming out of my grave

For surely you are mighty to save, and

This I gave up my rights at the cross of

Christ, you don’t desire my temptations

Of the wind to be overtaken, my soul’s

Aching for a holy weapon, a holy weapon,

A holy plan to stomp out the candle wax

Dripping on my wrist, you twist and turn

Me in the right direction, all you ask is

Submission, every area where I need

Your discipline, I stand in awe of the

Holy one, for I am not satisfied with

These stacks of the spirit of this age,

With Hollywood and its newest rage,

The hot spa burns hot, melts away my

Argument to your hard target,

My getting what I want you desire I die

To these things,

So much open for me, so much potential,

So much special placed inside all of us,

For I am the only one coming out of

My grave, I declare that if I don’t

Have you I am already burning in

Hell, My soul is not well and the

Day will come when all will see

And all will hear what you have

To declare, commendation from

God, condemnation to the rod

The enemies held over me,

For this I see, I’m in need of mercy.

A New Start For Henry

A New Start


Can’t make this up, can’t tune it out, can’t read about

How time has changed Henry’s history, Henry and Sue Ellen

Have become separate movie scenes.


A new director each time, a new producer for every new line

David is, David was, David will always be the picture forever

Of friends beyond brother, and a heart forever after the Father’s mercies,

Dad’s endless sea of acquittal, never to belittle us He only lifts up.


What won’t be understood are the moments of departure then return again.

Prodigals gives us these signals, mixed with morsels of wisdom, that only

Come from leaning on heaven.


For each day that passes that the word slips through fingertips like dropping

Weight on Henry’s best toes, for surely He knows all of my days, my strengths to

Huck mountains into the sea, the mystery of all mysteries chasing down my

Only memories of me at the age of three fortifying legos as my refuge,

I feel I am sliding down this mountain, a landslide once written about

Getting older makes us better, stronger, more enabled to live free


But as I write these things at 2 in the afternoon, I feel He is coming very,

So very soon and I wrestle not with the 50 cents left to my name, or the

People I could blame for the way pain has caught  up to Henry, rather,

Just like the sea, you control every part of Henry, curling and swirling at

All the right times, revolving are your ways to kill the old man

Inside of Henry.

 This is a piece of my heart, for today is June frist, we’ve all been given a new start.

The Crash Of March

Who would’ve ever thought work would make some Ruckus. Here’s my perspective. And some pictures soon to come.

This took place on March 13th at Trader Joes.

The Crash Of March


For ordinary days to expect delays we are not

Featured for prays prayed, rather our group is

Peculiar in form and expression like comparing

Animals at the zoo, each of us has our cage, our

Fits of rage, our act on stage, our thrust to

Grow, battle with age and grays. Here is the

Indelible truth branded on our vision and told

In revision like aspiring writers writing responding

To the simple question: why is there a hole in the wall

And where is my wine?


The Crash of March has changed our vision,

Our perception, has rattled our cage, bent its

Bars, struck the chords of rage, altered backdrop

Displays to our stage and a slight increase in age


It began as just another simple

Day of delegated positions, all of us humbly

Not shirking our duty to fulfill obligations, everyone

Anticipated an early exodus, an extra smoke from

The cigarette, did we hypnotize ourselves to

Let our store walls break us, invade us, impede on

Our invincible lives?


This town, its glory and its vanity like the

Shows you watch that invade the endless

Tragedy of richness and maybe not everyone

Is a millionaire here, but in splitting wheat

From tare, I see a resilient society that has

Earned there retirement and down payment

On the endless waves that invade

Never ending ocean down the hill,

O, what a thrill for the storm to

Come, to wake us

Up from deep slumbering, not knowing

That one offset white truck could miss

A tree, geyser at Wells Fargo

Smack into our winery cargo,

Change our pattern, our limbo,

Crash like a kamikaze bomb,

Combust the empty space full

Of the wine that is so entwined

In high society, rushing like blood

Down his adolescent face we no

Longer had comfortable space but

Only heart palpitations and screeching

Proclamations that no was really hurt

Or dead but rather instead we saw

Through the crash of Friday the 13th,

We all still had our teeth, our bodies,

Our center of gravity, our balance

Beam, our clothes sewn at the seam,

Still together, unharmed but abruptly

Awake, that so far this life we’ve lived

Came close to ended. And in answering

The simple question and observing like

CSI we were grateful, we could’ve died.


Watching the emergency team stop

The unceasing stream, I reexamined

My keen intuition to dream, to believe

In things unseen, forces beyond my

Comprehending, protection outside

Of my own walls of comfort, for

Those too, also came down, for

As much glass splattered on the floor,

Split the ceiling, so the

Safe harbor feeling was shredded

And depleted, not money, not success, not any

Of this was on my chest, only

The burning awareness that life

Could be lost in a matter of

Seconds, the arch of the emerald

Rainbow could soon be asking me,

‘What have you loved for me

Recently?’ And God I wonder

Why there was no asunder, no

Storm cloud thunder but rather

This truck burning rubber and

Like me, asleep at the wheel,

Not awake until something

Starts to bleed, until out of

The ordinary comes the story

That some kid crashed into

Our walls, that no one died,

But I saw my pitfalls, my

Selfish ambitions and my

Jaded vision, that

Nothing could ever pull me

Down, not even the thrill

Of the winery, and dining

In this city, no pity for

Lucrative life, I saw it

Like a knife splitting the

Atom, when death is a phantom,

We are in danger, the arch of

Mercy is a stranger and we risk

Living like tomorrow is a guarantee.

I see, I love, I live in this city, I

Humbly choose to believe that

It was something not up to me

That 10 feet to the left I could have

Been taken like a thief in the night

And for all that is accurate and right

We survived the crash of March,

The almost fall of the arch of

Mercy that so easily hovered

Around each employee,

For this I am grateful and

Much able to boldly share

This story.


This is inspisred by some prophetic words spoken over me.



Damaged armor all

Around covering me

Helmet dented, He

Can’t see the victory

Ahead of Him.


Contend, let your

Soul, spirit, body

Bend into Him.


Ripped to shred armor

Like a grain farmer

I’ve been sowing

Seeds, I believe

You see Me,

Diligently reward

Fight for crowns

Not seen by

Magazines or

TV but on the Day,

When sun shreds dark to glory,

Earth split by Holy Fire.


Like a pebble in the sand,

My plan is grand beyond

Your hand plowing for

My approval, like a triple

Sequel you keep striving

For stain glass and

Steeple to hold you



I know, when it rains, it pours

Your fog shift will lift

And clear as rain falling on

A cloudy day, new light will

Enter my way.


Mercy surrounds

My mountain view

Of you, as the

Pebbles drift away

You command me to stay

Still in one place

Contender for grace

I can’t let you lace

Your own shoes and

Fight for what’s not yours

To earn.


Be still and listen and learn

You feel the burn

Of my presence invading

Your space, I want it all

From Spring to Fall,

I have answered your call.


Just kick the pebbles in the sand.


The rainbow hovering

Over the blue torched sky

Tells me I am gonna live

And not die.


Pacing circles in the rain

Searching for gain in this


Where I dub over

What hurts and

What stings deep

Beneath me.


Messenger of bitter

Scroll eating defeating

Thrill seeker sensitive

Church goer

That is clueless

To what is coming

To the earth.


But must know the love

Of the Father


Must be able to

Rest, little contender.


Face it here, face it now.


I read lamentations 3

Covered in verses

About your mercy.

God, please, let

Me see, I am only

23, but surely goodness

Comes from He who made

This rainbow bending its

Way around Me, stepping

In front of the choices

That can’t take back me

Into somewhere else

Put all the lies

On the shelf.

Simply Put: Help!

Mercy World

When I first began blogging I thought of this very simple phrase “mercy world.” I was reading Revelation 4 and 5(the description of the throne room) Which, if you haven’t indulged yourself in those two chapters, then I urge you to make it a part of your daily meditation.

The Emerald Rainbow signifies God’s infinite mercy toward humanity and the world is the place where humans dwell. He is merciful to the world, to say the least. He loves everyone unconditionally.


Mercy World. God’s world is full of mercy and love and compassion beyond our comprehension. I know for certain that I have made many claims as to where I want this blog to go and what I want it to be about, so I am not going to give you a long list of expectations but I am going to talk more about mercy and the character and person of Jesus. For so long, I am have read that “His presence is a Great Disturbance” up there on my header. And His presence can be invasive and awakening and alarming, especially if we haven’t been in it for some time but beyond just getting rocked by the Fear of the Lord, there is the gentleness and mercy of God. And as I am writing this I am thinking that they go together, and God wants it that way. He desires those paradoxes, where we can say mercy and judgment in the same sentence and say they go together, because they do.

So, wake up tomorrow morning with that famous verse that your pastor, or your parents, or whoever quotes to you: His mercies are new every morning. It is so true, and I see how much we, as believers in Christ, need to grab a hold of it.

And expect more posts and poems about mercy world.