Alone amongst Blurs

Sitting here, surrounded by sound

Voices of people and music invade

My ears and my spirit moves in slow motion

Acknowledging nothing

I’m sitting alone in a crowded room

Where the world and its people come to sit

To escape the hectic and dive within

Into their souls to see their true selves

Solving their problems, aligning equations

Losing their souls in masked invasions

To find a completion to all of this mess

And to place themselves

Where they just might feel blessed

As they sit and stop and search to find

They give blur to the truth and lose their minds

And as I sit alone in a crowded room

Without a soul to caress my lofty heart

No consolation to find for my plagued soul

Alone and lonely and broken apart

From a world of people who look to solve

The problem of pain and the earths resolve

As I sit alone and move in slow motion

I condemn the blurs and masses around

Breaking my soul… that tearing sound

As I seek to solve the problem of pain

But I have all the answers in my brain

Yet I am going insane as I try to solve

The mysteries of them, and the earths resolve

And the circle lies within my eyes

As I sit and peer down from statuesque seat

Unto the blurs of the lost, blind, wandering feet

And I discover why my soul feels so incomplete

Cause I sit and peer and I point at the meek

And I rest amongst the blurs as they are trying to solve

The problem of pain and the earths resolve

When I sit upon the truth, upon my statue

Knowing the truth, yet scared and broken

Until I walk, not lonely again

The circle appears and I feel the sin

Of the circle itself as I wander again

In the sea of lost souls as they are seeking to solve

But I bring clarity there and I bring resolve

To the searching the wanting the desire for truth

As my statue is shattered manacles let loose

And the slumbered awake but the world remains slow

But the blurs are now clear and I see without fear

But the circle has power, and I cannot win

But the strength of the beauty that now lies within

Is that I am not alone, nor broken, nor dim

But a lamp being used to bring light unto him.

The King-Slayer & Snakeskin

The King-Slayer

Who am I? Define my image.
What has been etched on the walls
of my soul? A beautiful corsage,
though life springs forth as it falls
on the wrist of a beloved,
is dying. So what facade
is my image revealing?

Doth my heart resolve to seek what is dying?
to betray myself with fear,
to give into this esteem so blinding,
do I align my fate with that of Lear?
Shall I force away my one pure love
to boost my pride, to find foundation,
and become blind to the devils masked as doves,
until betrayed, I am entirely alone again?

Shall my hair be cut, or sanity lost
whilst in this sea of troubles
I'm turned and tossed?
For the strongest kings betrayed themselves,
for a love they would never find
If they should fall, then to what Hell
should my soul be lost and bind.

Snakeskin

The skins of my path hath been shed.
They lie intact, though they lie behind
the skin is dead, what's said is said,
yet to look upon it, I'm still inclined.

Like the serpent leaves his common case
to freely move with a fresh exterior
his prints are left and you can trace
the scars and marks that he once bore.

So the dead skins of our past do reveal
the mistakes and pain we've left behind.
It speaks truths about us, and though we've healed
Our fingers trace the jagged lines.

The Silent Staff: Inspired By the Invisible Children 25 Event.

God-Ordained and rightly placed,
the staff befell his hand
and thus solemnity took his face,
as he led them to their land.

A brother torn, a prince no more
as he is humbled by the call.
With knees bent hard upon the floor
Enmity 's destroyed by the faithful.

And yet, Man's heart it hath not changed,
as brothers beat enslave and maim.
and thus our Lord doth call our names,
and with a silent staff we are ordained.

for God ordained and rightly placed,
our voices within our throats.
To scream against all injustice,
and to bridge our man-made-moats.

Or to sit in silent protest here,
while our brothers are at war.
To bend our knees with reverent fear,
til enmity is shattered on the floor.


To learn more about Invisible Children, visit http://www.invisiblechildren.com 

A Vicious Love: An Epic Poem.

This world has nothing for me.
though it's pleasing to my eyes;
It's a blanket of His glory,
yet The Devil's Paradise.
Malicious in nature, we
set our eyes on glory,
glory for ourselves to
build a sovereign dynasty.
Our hands and words conceal
knives; knives directed for backs
of our brothers whom we
profess to love above all others.

~--~

The Tiger sits among men
on an earth intended
for Him. His Ferocity is calm,
his claws burn bright. among
a dark world he is vicious
with light. With eyes like fire
he orchestrates his wrath
His teeth gorge and tear, they
scourge and they shred
at the earth made for him to share
with mankind. But amongst
all the pain the lessons are lost.
The tigers eyes weary as he
thinks of the cost. He closes
them gently and transforms
his being, and as he forgoes
this process, the enemy
Is seething.
                For as the
velvet glove befalls his
iron hand, he opens his heart
and releases The Lamb.

~--~

Little Lamb, who made Thee?
The world of man asks. For
They can't help but bask in  the
shadow he casts. His words
mystify us, and we are drawn
from our thrones, and for the
first time in ages, we
find our souls are sent home.
The Lamb becomes beautiful
though he is masked as
 a beast. He shows us a
glimpse of his throne and invites
us to feast, and my soul is
released, and I feel all at peace,
and I close my eyes and I
climb to my feet, and I
look at the Lamb, and he's
knelt before me. Then I
beg him to rise, look into
His eyes, but he remains.
Then I look at my feet, how swiftly
they have led me to pain
and deceit, but the stains
I once knew are no longer there.
And I rejoice with the Lamb at
this greatest of feats and look
unto him and see his stained fleece...

~--~

Evil Wins... Or so it may seem,
as they skin my lamb and
torture him before me. And then
They tie him to a tree. Then
they spit and mock Thee!
Oh, Little Lamb, who will save Thee?
Oh, It cannot be me! For
The Feet that you cleaned, they
already flee! to dirty again
to betray and to sin...
So amongst the demons
I'm in darkness again...
Thinking, and longing
for my sweet Lamb.

~--~

My weary soul wanders amongst
the dark world. No direction
no meaning, no connection.
My back's ridden with sores
with knives left to fester
left by men and demons
in pleasure.
                 My sullied eyes
bleed and shed tears as I'm
enveloped by my fears. Life
becomes a nightmare, Though,
it always was.
                     And what's left
of my being, slowly sheds off.
And I am cast from my body
to wander naked in fright, But
my weary soul spots the
ever-present light. And as
I draw nearer, I realize
I am carried, for by my
own fruition all weakened,
and wearied, my soul it was
tethered to my remaining flesh,
captivated and sentenced to death.
Now I float freely and wander within
the tomb of my Lamb, the Temple of Life.
The Tiger, He smiles, I feel no fright.
For his claws have been drawn and
he calls me in; to rest easy, beside him,
I am finally home.

Shipwrecked Refugees. (a spot in time)

So, I was just lying in bed, when all of the sudden I was overcome with an overwhelming sense of a vile presence. It was very unnerving at first, and i tried to shake it, seeing as I get similar feelings most nights. A little confession of mine is that I am semi-scared of the dark. I mean, I can handle darkness, in fact, often times I embrace it, but there are many nights that I fin myself a little anxious in that 3 steps between the light switch and the bed. (I blame my dad for showing my poltergeist when i was five). Anyways, tonight was different.

I could not shake it. I prayed, I recited scripture, I prayed, I texted my lifegroup, and I prayed. It didn't leave, and the nervousness started to turn to fear. Then I got to thinking, which is something I often do, and i found myself in a "spot of time," or an epiphany. I realized how much I did not want to be on this earth forever. Now, a lot of you might be thinking, well duh. We ALL want to go to heaven. But in actuality, this is something i wrestle with a lot. I always fight the desire to want to go to heaven by placing value in what this earth has to offer, like marriage, a career, kids, etc.

Lately, i feel like God has been doing a number on my heart, in tremendous ways. Things that held great value and importance to me no longer satisfy my obsessions. God has really been filling me up with himself. saturating my soul. I have been feeling a healthy apathy for things that I used to pour myself into, like school, money, and girls. God has very much surpassed these things lately, (i say this in all humility knowing that in time all that can change, and it is only by the grace of Jesus that I can say such things).

So, relevance? I honestly think that god allowed me to continue to feel that presence of evil tonight. He wanted me to have that revelation, he wanted me to finally understand that I truly do not belong here...and he wanted me to write about it. Because even after I had that little spot of time, I could not rest easy without writing about it. So i grabbed a notebook and a pen, and in a couple of minutes, I had a new poem scribbled up. You see, God knows our passions and our talents, and he wants us to use them for his good and for our own good. i have recently come to an understanding within myself, and with God, that I am supposed to write. Why? Because of moments like tonight. When i have a spot of time, I literally feel fear that I might not remember.

Lately, I have been lazy in my writing. I do not always write when I feel inspired. I make excuses that I am too tired, or that I will do it another time. NOPE! That is not how it works. It has to be a spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings as William Wordsworth put it.

So, You see how God can use ONE situation, ONE feeling for a multitude of lessons and good. As I write all of this, I KNOW it is truth, and not just a hunch. He wanted me to realize that this earth is evil. We are hunted and harvested by evil, as cheesy as it sounds, it is true. He wanted me to realize this, and he wanted me to write it out. I didn't even plan on writing this blog, I was just going to post the poem, but I feel this is very necessary, and honestly, i don't think these words are all mine, but rather, His.

So, here it is. Take it for all that it is worth... love it or hate, at least read it.

SHIPWRECKED REFUGEES

This world is a graveyard, a minefield of souls
that are prey to it's wrath, a wick left to kindle.
This land is not our land, it belongs to the flesh
and as we burn and decay, so all turns to death.
We shant want to remain here upon this war-feild
of fiery arrows, of loves cloven shield.
Hack away at the manacles lain down by our minds,
yes, remove us from darkness, restore sight to the blind.
If this ground's the foundation of fiery hate
that gives breed to our pride and defiles my slate,
then what shall I want from a world such as this-
thats imperfect as me? - Enveloped Darkness.

For like the mist it captures the minds
of the lonely, the weak, the scourged and the blind.
It feeds on the weak like a crow to dead flesh
and on the horseman's last ride it shall all turn to ash.
But alas, The War stands as we are forced to our knees
To stand firm as One, as Shipwrecked Refugees.

A Well Behaved Beast

This Poem was inspired by Lucy Pevensie Sill, and is dedicated to all well behaved beasts, including myself.











My master calls, I run to him,
my heart is filled with joy!
To escape the yard, to see the world
to protect him, I employ.

Excitement fills my heart to it's brim
as he straps me to my leash.
and though I'm content to be with him
I beg him for release.

I break away, I'm running free
as the wind blows in my face
and the sweet and soft smells of the air
declare heaven of this place.

The grass of the earth, it tickles my feet
as i sprint until my legs won't let
and as my soul feels most complete
of my master I forget

My body grows weak and I stop to rest
in the darkness now, the sun is gone
it's then I realize that I'm lost
and that I'm not alone.

Along with the night the pests do come
and in the dark  hear them stir,
with a desperate soul, my heart does groan
with thoughts of my dear master

I wine and yelp as I search for him
In the shadows of ferocious trees
and the fear in my heart is dark as sin
and I no longer feel the soft wind breeze

As my world collapses in the night
I lose all hope and sit alone
in the coldest air with my mind in fright
I hear a distant drone

My ears perk up as I hear the sound
of someone I used to know
so to the voice I do abound
the dark I overthrow

I see the light and find him there
my master calls my name
with descending ears and tail tucked in
I go to him in shame

But he comes to me and pets my head
and straps me to my leash.
and with a firm but loving tone
he calls me "well behaved beast."

Flower Epoch

Gentle night, flower of life, roots ever searching
digging deep, sharp and broken, as the air grows course.
Wind takes flight, cuts like a knife, into pedals ever fading
and light creeps, skies silver token, lays shadow on remorse

Deepest dark, ferocious front, stem in desperation.
Holding fast, roots lacking anchor, hastened futility.
attempt to hark, become unbent, to find a foundation.
Broken mast... falsified fervor, the roots then release.

Wretched skies, horrid freedom, uplifted in darkness.
Lost direction, wrapped in chaos, fighting no longer.
Cast aside, wind dies down, landing on pages.
Found protection? trapped when lost, in the spine, now stronger.