City Life

Got to get out of the city
Girls getting to pretty for
Its lights, and its hype, and
Its pages that are written,
I am in the building and its
Structure, I am the future,
I am the rock He will build on,
I am craving silence, I am thirsty
For noise, I am easily satisfied,
Easily distracted, easily redacted
And snapped like a twig,
I am the bruised reed that
He will not break, I am the smoke
To my own flame, for the world’s
Water has quenched this love,
Nothing shall separate,
Not even my own principalities,
My own priorities,
My own proclivities
To live like myself,
To put love up on the
Shelf, to die and live
In this city, for it conforms
Me, it calls to me, brokenness
Exists outside the walls I have
Been most comfortable in

The Couch

Many things to update on this blog. But I am really, just really hungry for the Lord in this season of life. I am making room for silence in my life and that is messing me up. I am hearing things I have not heard in a while. Here is my reflection and reflections to come on wanting all from Christ.

So unsure
So unstable
Still able was
I to sit and try to
Cry, truth came out
Pain came forth, drew
Me out, trying to sit
Culture does say might
Revisit dry places of cracks
And crevices and areas of
Weakness, I sat on your couch
I did soak then in that pain again,
I waited, I heard, I feel man’s
Problem is trying to respond,
Trying to unwind endless visitations
Of Jesus times, couch only I required,
For to sleep on it would separate me
From you, for I am not one God with
What you desire,

I used to see them sit
And wait for work to end, for dvr to
Apprehend and time to bend toward
Completion, never having it, Lord, I say
It everyday, my past gets in my way,
I have to sway and say I never had a
Couch, I never had a place to sit and
Revisit the dry places, the cracks and
The crevices of me—sitting is not me—
Running is me—away from all that hurts
And the dirt that I carry in my eyes, puffed
Up I am on all my libraries of knowledge,

But I don’t like the couch cause its there
I face it—the way I am, the way I’ve been,
Where you begin—find me on the run,
Find me on your couch waiting to
Discover my own despair, my need
For repair, my need for someone to
Sit with—lonely does it get trying
To make time for more of my dreams
That fill my nights with endless wants
And no solutions—sit me still Lord,
On the couch where we can speak
To each other, where we can be
Together

Silence

The issue of silence goes deep. I seek to expound more on this. This poem is the slight understanding that I feel I have so far. For silence strengthens and teaches us about our words.

Silence

Quitter to the twitter
Society I’m in like a
Vacuum sucking and
Waking me up in every
Hallway I walk through,
Silence to my status that
I might just pause on the
Importance of my complaint,
You desire freshly painted
Stories of histories of
Tragedies or psychologies
Of dreams and desires and
Each minute a new movie
Slides into the vcr, it sticks
Like tar my desire for the
World to know who I am,
For it is neither sin nor akin
To condemnation, rather silence
Strengthens and keeps senses
Alerted to the drunkenness of
The penniless, acute awareness
Of 90,000 homeless, for surely
We have discussed this, I must
Have power to dispel this great
Darkness

I stay silent to what I don’t
Understand, the secret place
And its invitation to embrace
Him in every move I make,
For without Him I will break,
With my right hand I guard
This fortress of success, I
Take a stand for righteousness,
I do not dismiss the desire to
Be known, for surely you see
Me at home and alone, and the
Words that leak out of me, for
In the future would they be
Heavenly, would they bring
You glory, would my silence
Be more truthful then the things
I cannot control, this is my hope,
This is walking on a thin rope,
Trusting you alone.

On The Thoroughfare To Somewhere, Pt. 3

Scarcity has evaded this blog and the soil of words. I haven’t had much to say, rather I have been sitting on what has already been said. And in sitting on what has been said I have realized without an epiphany that most of  what I have to say seems to fall to the ground. And when I ponder that truth I want the power of God and that’s where I am today.

Searching, reading, over and over 1 Corinthians 1 and 2. Paul is showing us why he endures so much suffering. What seems to be foolish and weak is actually the power of God. Therefore, to walk with the demonstration of the Spirit and power; we embrace foolishness. Meekness, the fruit of the Spirit, humility and the fear of the Lord produce a life-giving oracle and conduit to the power of God(so I believe). Yes, we already have the Holy Spirit but there is room for more of the power of the Holy Spirit to do what Jesus Promises we will do(raise the dead, heal the sick, set free the oppressed).

Nothing but the word. I am so grateful and I say this to encourage all who read this. Never give up on pressing into the word. Devour it like food. I can’t seem to even read anything else but the word. It is a true answer to prayer.

What little have I been reading? Well, I have been stirred to continue my study and pursuit of understanding the fear of the Lord. I am reading little by little The Fear of The Lord by John Bevere. I am curious to see how he understands it. So far, so good. Expect more on this subject.

Tennis weekly. Unfortunatly I have lost both series of games to girls. They seem to not try very hard and they win. I try as hard I can, with a sweatband, to get those backhands over just on the line enough to throw my racket up in victory, then get yelled at for mistreating the racket because its not mine. All  in all, being in the sun rocks and I am blessed that my Persian skin absorbs it and not burns.

tennis

Speaking of Persians. The family heritage has been 50 years without knowing where the dark skin and dark features come from. Of course from my mom but she hasn’t known her whole life until two months ago. An Internet service tracked down her real parents that gave her up for adoption. She found out that she is: Armenian, Assyrian and Persian. I conclude now that I am The Persian Prince, not of Bel-Air but of the O.C. And if you are of Turkish descent, my apologies for our history of belligerent hostility. I could playwright a play with the themes of West Side Story and The Outsiders only set in the middle east. The Turkish verse the Persians. Some serious oil barrel fighting(Z will appreciate this reference).

Life’s good and busy and sunny. And if you have a surfboard  I want it. Its going to be my first summer in Cali land so I would like to try to surf everyday and until I get a car I am going to have to carry whichever surfboard on my back while roller blading. And as I have mentioned in the past while roller blading to my server job in KC. If peeps gave me the stink eye there, how much more here? I mean, you are a little out of touch if you don’t have a Lexus, or BMW, or a car worth a house in other parts of the world.

Even with all its richness, this is still a nice place to be.

The deck shoes with Brown socks mean I am comfortable with my style and I think we should all be that way. If you want to wear some neon colors and maybe look like a safety cone, who’s gonna stop you? Only people will expect you to stop them, because you look like a cross guard.

I have been turning cd’s into tapes to play in my old school walkmen. Has it really been 10 years? Or even more? But I have decided to refer to RAP as an acronym of my own. Real Attributes of Power

Somewhere is here and here is good.

“He isn’t safe, but he’s good.” spoken by Lucy about Asland

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On the way toward L.A. A soundooff Mae would say…