Tell you Something (Part 2)

Love is your commodity,

Finding your body,

A hobby,

Now time has left me,

It has gone by,

I have reasons why,

Why I can’t love

Even just better,

Or not at all?

I got jobs without love

And money is the root

Of me,

I am a sinking man

Without a plan,

How do I say no 

To you again,

And again,

Listless over making

Lists and I can’t get 

You to stay,

Love is my commodity,

Lusting you like a hobby,

Trying to get sober,

But just getting older,

I’ve loved the voices you

Make,

I just know your gonna

Break and that’s my

Mistake,

I am not the one for you,

I am just the right now

That you got going before

You get going,

I am trying to move along,

Grow and get a life that 

Last long and this thing

We have is not the 

Future I want anyway,

Commodities,

Anyway,

Time is the give away,

And that has been lost to.

Poverty Gift

The message is in

God will win,

Yesterday was the rest of the

Best parts of me,

If I have passed then

I can outlast whatever will

Come my way

What am I missing if

I am fishing for a blessing

Without cost,

Without pain,

Without rain to work through

Without puddles to cover up for–

The just expect rust for breakfast

The criminals expect paper milk

And evaporated ramen flavors–

I do not get what I deserve–

I am so sick of the lack of love

I have for the abundance of stuff

I own—it must be harder for me then

To receive mercy

For the poverty gift

Unwraps the riches I think

I have, and I so have a need

To learn more on how to

Be poor

Full Of

God.Life.Love. Relationships. Connection. Eternity. And most of all, love.

Is there room for me,
Inside and around the things
That you do, the wonder of you,
The thoughts of closeness to you,
Where can I fit in, where can
I start to begin, infinite mercy
And infinite love is showered
Down upon me, like a rental,
Not in the mental, he came,
He was maybe to blame, the
Hits I took in secret became
Public and suspect to reject
The lovely things about myself,
And on the shelf my story lives,
My life it gives back to me,
For I alone know this memory,
To live, to die, to crossover,
To stand before Him with those
Eyes of flames and the name
Above all names—I am here,
I am infinite, I am full of greatness
I am wonderful, I am incredible,
I have not found yet someone
To share this with, I am alone
In the crowd and your voice
Is real loud, I dance, I entertain,
I proclaim that the world could
Satisfy but I try not to lie, I ache
Daily, I am restless, I am heartless
At times, I am resting on nothing
But those promises that await me,
Righteous choices to catch up
With me, but love to stay with me—
For I know now that all the good
In me will be seen and carry over
Into forever, accept me, don’t
Reject me, make me empty, so
I can be full of you—full of love,
And full of truth.

The Forecast

Its good to be writing some new stuff. I have been posting older reflections(some with weird, obscure formats–sorry about that) but it is because this blog just passed 100 subscriptions just the other day. I say this to say that, I want the new people to enjoy older reflections that have been long gone.

This is a fresh poem written today. I am just taking in everything that I heard this past week at the Onething conference. A whole post dedicated to that will happen. I am still processing but the storm will come in life. Life will be hard; difficult; full of disappointments(as some would say); and full of plenty of time to choose what to believe in. I am holding on to the fact that it will be hard until I die, but my choices will affect as Mike Bickle recently said, ‘the depth of my choice affects the depth of my experience in God.”(not word for word).

So, here’s my reflection..

Weatherman tell me the forecast
Do I have what will last?
Inside is where we should live
But outside the world does hide
Behind that, storms they are
Forming, winds they are coming,
Ears they are humming and
Deafening the voice that speaks
And calms the storm—disaster, once
Was my master and ruled me daily,
Steady was far from me, faithful and
Fruitful did drift away—my dreams
Kept me going, for so little was spoken
Over me—where could this life please
Be, the forecast is dark, dreary, deadly,
Not lively—cloud and loud hang over
Me for the future is full of conflict, full
Of scandal, full of a candle in need to
Stay burning—I ask if I can truly win,
When the world seems to be drowning
In sin, Noah save me from the flood,
From the pain that life brings, from
The things called suffering and
Resistance—forecast me a safe
Life with a good wife and a good
Thing and kids to add to my last
Name—bring me now, all these
Things—but truth be told, the
Weather is cold, a lie, a shadow
To come—for light and love shine
Through the seasons and the many
Reasons for my dedication—clouds
No more stay over me because I have
Given all of me—to this cause, to this
Flame, to this love that takes my name—
And one I know not of waits for me,
Waits for all who see the storm,
See the clouds, rejoice in rain,
Rejoice in the pain—press through
He says this new year, make it clear
Where you stand—that bad weather
Won’t change your stand—stay steady
When you feel uncertain, stay steady
When he pulls back the curtain—for
The one storm I can’t escape will
Come down from the sky miles
High and convert the earth from
Storm to clear, from pain to gain
From a life of suffering to seeing
His face—and that truly is what
Makes me wait—for weather, I ask
Come and stay, through it all, I
Stand—waiting!

Out For Me

Older Reflection.To all who struggle with brain chemistry.

Chaos it lives inside of me
Chaos it calls out to me,
What am I led by, what am I guided by,
Ocean tide, call my name, sweep me away again
Its that swell again, its that hell again, its that mind again
Always asking nervous questions, nagging me to change
Nagging me to rearrange a new life, one that is not pain
And suffering, you see the buffering is what makes me
Press into Him, makes me climb the mountain with hands wide open and I am wondering why all the time when I should no longer be full of shoulds and woulds
But rather be faced with mercy calling me, mercy falling

Me, leaves racking, soul still aching, good-byes to the seasons of life they change inside me all of the time, feet not on this hardwood floor anymore, cds on repeat
All the the more, hot shower and an hour of torment feels

More then dormant, lying awake chest burning and many
Petitions, guilty has stamped me and shame has had it out for me, standing now has become a hard thing to do for falling is the end of the line for me now to give into
Death—to try to past that test, the halls of the unit they don’t unify me they defy me and

The Great Exchange

The Great Exchange

Standing at the edge of change, waiting for the great

Exchange, the reward is the same, His love for all the

Pain, a pass for tomorrow with all the sorrow, the

Day coming when it will all make sense,

The Day of wrath and recompense, the Day of

The gladness of your heart, until then I sit still hearing

Myself break, waiting for the next earthquake, praying always

For clouds of mercy to shower over what I cannot explain,

Waiting still for the great exchange, for the depths of depravity

To rain down on me, for I’ve been living for the giving of

All my life, to trust you day and night, to love you with all

My might

Upheaval

Reposting this, I really like this..

Older poem but I like this..I love you family..

Close to my heart is my own story and those who have lived it with me.

The setting was just right, with you I was up all night

Rethinking and reworking my destiny, see it was like this,

Volatile man up late each night, bowl of munchies, drug free

Zone, he owned it, the sky and its exits, to them he shouted out

Loud, feeling the weight  of the world crashing down, mulling over

Reasons of regret and future debt, he later sold it and moved out

West, for the hopes of a better life, she slaved away without complaining,

Serving by his side and slowly dying on the inside, his shouts split wheat’s and

Tares and injected me with fears, doors slammed and bags pack there must be

A fur coat out of this, and there I was just me and my creativity crashing down

Slowly I hid inside of her waiting for the customary tuck in, warmth was my

Dream, safety a pipedream, protection what I sought in great introspection,

And there it was, always making an exit from the fights and the yelling tore

Me in two as I was the better man trying to craft my right hand in the sand

We moved and went and salt water became the better bet, but there it was

In the American dream of palm trees and a balmy breeze, crept in the slow

Disease of living not at ease, she greatly got tossed like the waves at hand,

And put her hand in the sand a line of boundary for the planned out contraband,

Exporting that was about to take place, an exchange for years of pain, now suddenly

Circling the drain, I heard the thunder in upheaval as the story would unravel,

It got the best of me as I crafted another getaway back to the east again, I was

Suddenly afraid of my own skin, why this upheaval now, plucking my best

Strings I finally closed my eyes to never close them again and soon my mind

Went slipping out of my grip I had a new grit to face and there I was lying without

Peace anymore and mulling over regrets to be destined to be like the ones that

Created me, I to was a mess on a shoddy body of tears and brokenness and there

It was 3 years later, rent paid in full and our lives spared from the raging bull,

Here we are now with our own stories to tell, and all at the border of Hell,

For next could be my own disease and those around me to rescue my homeless

Face as I to seem to be a wanderer looking for purpose

Hunger Pains

The hunger hunt has me second guessing

Who is it that I am living for anymore

Hunger now keeps me awake like a great steak

Eating and deceasing inside of my best intentions and those

To are examined exactly inside the poignant points that point to

The one that died for me, for it wears me out daily the things that

Don’t wear me out and the many wreckless hours I live before myself

But on this night I set it right and set it straight, the words of life have

Been recently slipping recently in the back seat of my car, trying real

Hard, tasting the tar of bad decisions and instant revisions of this time

I’ve been spending and this life impending upon my clarity and much

Austerity I jettison this luxury and taste the victory of pressing inside the

Sound of the industrialization and this constant hesitation in me to push

More toward Him and hunger is a gift that I do sift and search with at my

Best sides of spinning for constant grief teaches me to burn and relinquish

My rights inside my life now, so hunger pains come and words of life I pick

You up from the ground, read you in this town and bow down slowly against

My own pride, and choose now to abide

Basement Days

Living with toys listening to Beastie

Boys, winter break we didn’t hesitate and we got

The good right out the gate, Star Wars Museum and

Teen Symposium, a study of our futures was to good

For now, I thought somehow the romance would pass

And we would all mow the grass past the fences of

Domestic hostility when mom and dad lived it before

Us but somehow in these reflections now I see that

The car we drove and the love we chose still somehow

Keeps me going because all I ever wanted was to get to

Growing, adolescence what does that mean when the world

Seems to value the teen and the dreamer inside but what

I can’t wait for has now caught up with me, getting older

How it grows so dimmer, she said you see the beauty in

Everyone then why do I not stop loving anyway, you’ve

Put your heart out there to many times to fold up now

With mold inside and even if it takes a thousand times

I never want to forget how far I’ve come, past the basement

Days and out into a world of pain, suffering sweetly with

Desperation inside, all that seems manly has made me

Not smile, but all that keeps me beating now somehow

Has taken a beating, and pain to change the language

Has been a mighty tutor to learn how to work harder

At staying alive, and that is something I’ve learned

On the drive

Stories Behind The Prose

I have been writing a lot in the last few weeks….A LOT!!! And since I have I am also thinking that maybe some backstory to some of these pieces might help make more sense to the expression.

I have always been a little all over the place in writing poems or these pieces of writing that are double spaced rhyming(not all the time) and have one to two word titles. I don’t have a long history of writing like this. I went through the ringer of pain and suffering 4 years ago in 2007 that I feel I can now talk about in absolute gratitude and reflection. I had trouble sleeping which led to a bunch of leaving town episodes which led me to Orange County which led to bad medicine which led to me coming back to KC, where I feel I really live; and has now led to me getting off all the crap; which has led to me now writing about it.

I feel, as a fledgling young writer, so much of what you want to express in your life comes out of personal experience. I mentioned this in brevity a few weeks ago. Writing is about expressing weakness and human suffering or pain. Its about making sense of your fallen self and your responses, whether big or small, to all that is going on around you. Making sense of yourself is the most difficult thing and trying to love others along the way, in my mind, makes for good fuel for the fodder of the storywriter in me.

Its not a rule to use personal experience. You don’t ever have to, ITS NOT A MUST but it is a good starting point. Starting with what you have endured and pushed through and been redeemed by makes you appreciate it all the more. I have more gratitude and less regrets, almost no regrets over that which has pained me. My own suffering and pain from others and those that love me is what gives me the courage to keep going and stay alive.

I am living to always find the meaning behind what is happening in my life. When I was in the sleep swirl my family was also going through a ton of stuff that created much questioning. With my head looking up at the sky asking the Lord why? Prompted me to start writing on receipt tape at the grocery store.

The most profound piece was called “77 beats per minute” and I had been obsessing over my heart beat because of anxiety. My mom would have to tell me over and over not to worry about it. She was reading this piece from a book and this guy had described his insomnia as a spider-web above his head.

I took those talks and that pain and created this poem that was my plea to the Lord to stay in control of me even though I was feeling not in control, I prayed, with all my heart; Lord, please, crack the web above my head.

As the months moved on I stopped reflecting and then it happened again and a year later I started putting it together even more. What also became apart of the reflection was all the relationships I had in Orange County and the reflection on the way of life around me. Working at Trader Joes was a huge blessing but also brought me to see many ironies in the way of life. I noticed how much money had affected people and how disconnected it felt to live in this lucrative paradise. I had written ‘The Crash Of March’ based out of this kid crashing through our store, literally he did. Wine went everywhere and we could have died, I certainly mixed the description of what happened with my own eternal questioning of being asleep at the wheel and not living alive before God, fearing Him and embracing my own death.

As 2009 rolled out I had over 100 pieces of reflection. As time has continued I am still reflecting on Orange County Life. This past week I have been thinking of abortion and pregnancy. I had always thought of this stuff but watching Teen Mom And The Secret Life Of The American Teen has prompted me to reflect on it. In Belly Full Of Responsibility, Protection, Waves Of Control, And Your Adoption I am really talking about two girls I know who went through the situations I am talking of. Gina and Cheyanne are real people. I guess they know now that I care for them both a lot and am writing so you know I do care and hope all is okay these days.

Broken gravity is a term I created=(or maybe someone else has) that has made me appreciate the human mess. Talking of what I have seen has always been fuel.

I feel I am also always trying to talk about praying to Jesus and the many things that come in our walk with God. Pain and suffering and giving Him everything are always in my line of sight.

I talk about Runaway Town and Samsonite Days as the real thought that I’ve had so many times about wanting to run away from my problems and the pain that builds up sometimes. Seeking to escape only ever means that Jesus is who you want to run to in the midst of the self affliction. I find that me loving the airplane doesn’t mean I should love ditching everything and leaving but what if I did? I know I will never do that but I feel its real to want to run away.

And yes, there are plenty of references to old relationships. I will never actually mention who is what and when is what. It will always read you or her or then. Its not my goal to loathe in the pain of rejection but rather I want to reflect on the pain and how its made me better and more in love with the Lord. Love, or the appearance of love, is a dangerously painful process. We aren’t always received by everyone and we are usually so selfish that its hard to think of others. All my relationships have taught me much about myself and the Lord that I owe myself the debt to reflect on it. I have never been a fan of the melancholy songs that reflect not getting over yourself, that is so Dashboard Confessional; we can’t do that, its unhealthy but mentioning glimmers of limping teach you how to walk better in this life.

It Hurts So Good is one of my favorite pieces on the combination of something my mom said to me years ago. Its a reflection of the mixture of family hurts as well as other moments to. It hurts so good means its worth hurting to gain the meaning and the feeling of love. Hurting has made you better forever and ever.

Earning it and more bills are about the materialism that surrounds the mind. It is about someone specifically that carried different views then me about money. Spending that time seeing different views has made me reflect on its effect on trying to love someone.

The list goes on but hope this gives you some perspective behind some of these pieces of writing.