poetry

autumn’s song…

autumn's song by Silence and Chaos I’m awakened by the morning sun creeping through my blinds.
my hands caress my face over my eyes to fight the light.
my legs massage the ruffled sheets as I turn over to hide from the light.
my eye’s are greeted by the soft light that cascades across her face.
I smile.
my limbs graze across the bed and drunking-ly find their way to the floor.
the cold wood floors send a chill up my spine as my feet shutter at their greeting.
I sit and stare into the bathroom for a moment and allow the remnants of sleep to linger.
my eyes refuse to adjust to the glare off the mirror sink.
I reach for a t-shirt draped across the bottom of the bedpost.
I put on my socks with rulers stamped onto both sides and head for the kitchen.
the light from the kitchen window stretches across the floor into the foyer.
I clumsily reach into the white cabinet for a coffee cup.
i press the power button on the Keurig.
I popped in the K-cup and I wait.
the coffee drips and the aroma is morning.
I lift the cup up to the light of the window to see the steam.
i exhale
I walk towards the front door and stare into the yard
I look up and acknowledge the tree has began to change.
i exhale
I reach down to pick up a leaf and admire the details.
every vein.
every point.
the gradient.
I take a sip of my coffee and I place it on the ground.
I reach for my phone and focus it on the cup.
i snap
I look up into the tree and say a silent “thank you”.
I walk back into the house and down the hall. coffee in hand…

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INKED THOUGHTS

Evening LightIt’s been overcast all day, only remnants of sun barely piercing through the cumulus balls of fluff. I was so late to work today that I was ashamed of myself and I allowed it to get the best of me. The remainder of my day was off kilter and I simply couldn’t get it back together. I drove home down the backroads listening to NPR but not paying attention. I think they were discussing ISIL but then again, who isn’t? The world is truly a frightening place though most of us have become numb to it. The tragedy in the lives of others rarely affect us if we don’t allow ourselves to feel the emotions.

Today’s Inked Thought is from my junior high school year’s. I’m not truly sure what the basis of it is, but it is one of my favorite poems. As I look through my  poetry–I realize most of it is rather moody but I guess that’s just who I was and partially still am. I believe it is from the era of my parents relationship beginning to deteriorate in front of me. But any-who, as I sit here enjoying this ‘good’ evening light, the dilcid swoons of Birdy– I hope you’ll enjoy this piece of me from yesteryear. so please, feel free to grab a cup of dark roast, turn on some indie tunes and just read. its good for you.

 

UNTITLED

as time goes on

and days go by

my life seems to fall apart at the core

where the lava of spirit boils over

my desolate night sky

invaded by inquisitive midnight creatures

and crescent moons ascend

that interminable darkness of my mind

seems to get trapped in the depth of my soul

where the stars behind my eyes gaze

alone and awaiting to be lit

 

the field of my heart is sinking

to new lows of despair

which can only be revived by another’s spirit light

a lantern that sets upon the shelf of my soul

adorn my lonely hedge of blue

with your tears of sullen joy

that I might feel your void

 

and together

we. will die alone

I want to be yours…

Abandoned Home I’ve always been a dreamer. I can’t tell you when it started or if it will ever end, but I can tell you that right now, in this space–I still dream. I get lost in foggy mornings and rainy days on a regular basis. The smell of rain has to be one of the most intoxicating things I believe you can experience. I’m not sure why anyone does drugs. I’m not sure why we don’t love life more and take in all the ‘little’ things. Have you ever stopped and listened to yourself breathing? Every inhalation is a divinely crafted push of air from God to you. Take a moment and run your finger from your palm to your shoulder blade and notice how the feeling changes–its so subtle and yet so magnificent that I tend to get goosebumps. What is this? All these beautiful things that God has created and yet I neglect Him daily, I pray less instead of more. When life gives me lemons–I cry in the silence about things I can’t control and I refuse to believe that He will free me from these burdens. How is it, I can be so ungrateful to a God who’s continually covering me in grace?

When I think about the honor it was to grow up in a Christian home where I learned the Bible and drank God’s word on a regular basis–I feel so blessed. But when I think about how far removed I am from it and how I can barely recollect many scripture verses, my heart weeps with discontent. I find myself wanting to exchange literature of poets and lyrics of musicians for that of scripture. Why, have I become so lost in these wordily things and forget about my maker until I’m knee deep back in sin?

I pray that God have mercy upon my soul and lead back to where He and I were in constant fellowship. I pray that he would restore in a heart that yearns to learn more about Him without hesitance. I pray that He would consume me and lead me to drink from the well of life once more, to leave behind the things of this of world in exchange for the love of heaven. I want to be more like Him. I want to see people as he sees people. I want to love people as He loves people. Dear God, I want to be yours whole-heartedly without condition. I simply want to be yours.

Inked Thoughts

English was one of my favorite classes in school but I never cared for grammatical guidelines. Conjugating this, past-participle that. All I knew was I thought without commas, periods or semi-colons. Words just flooded into every cell in my mind like the interminable journey for happiness. Which brings us to this Inked Thoughts selection. I broke it down to make it easier to read though I think it is best in block format. I was sitting in a grave yard when I wrote this, and I know you will think how morbid or disrespectful. But I can assure you, they don’t care. So you shouldn’t either.

Life in Run-On

I think in long bits and pieces
it never seems to end
it just keeps going
sometimes im afraid ill crash
ill run straight into something
because i was too busy dreaming
dreaming about things that may or may not
come silly things
serious things
things that only consume my mind and no one elses
dont judge
i merely dont have time to defend my myself
imthinking
thinking of something great and full of grandeur
im curing aids im reading books
im curing cancer im giving hugs
im healing broken people through my prayers
i dont know what i desire from this life
im doing Gods will or am i
maybe im just existing and i have no earthly idea what im supposed to be doing
maybe im not praying enough
maybe im not living
speak to me please im talking to you
yes you there in the corner
doe-eyed in sullen shades of gray
speak to me
im thinking out loud
when was the last time you thanked someone
greeted a stranger
or stretched a helping hand
no judgement just questions
im breathing rather irregularly
my chest feels heavy and is that wheezing why yes yes.it.is
dont leave me here to rot
i dont like to be alone
im not afraid of the dark i just dont like to be alone
please leave the matches on your out way
ill catch up with you later oh my
where did all these ashes come from
dusty sut smeared upon my heel
whos going to clean this mess
i suppose it is i
doe eyes has already left
what are we all doing here
are we breathing
are we living or just existing
NO no no no no no no I want more for me.
I want to do more than just simply stand here on the sidelines. There is a plan for me. I just have to wait it out. I have to be faithful to a God who’s provided more than I could ever imagine. But will there be times when I will revisit this hole? Why, yes. I would say so but I won’t dwell there; I’ll only stay for a moment or two and then carry-on with the plan. We’re all apart of the plan. The bigger plan…right?

Inked Thoughts

It was a rainy day in June 2009. I remember riding home on my way from work and I was listening to a bjork album, but had begun to tune it out. You know what I mean if you’ve ever heard bjork. But I vaguely remember being overwhelmed with the want to cry. It came from nowhere. I wasn’t thinking of anything painful nor was I having a bad day. But I remember pulling into a gas station to write this down.

desert arrhythmias

she appeared out of the blue
concocted from the winds cold hands
and the warmth of the sand
there she lay barren to the suns harsh heat
and the stares of souls past
she was fragile and as frail as a starved child of many wars
awaiting a vessel of hope to be offered
from a warm hand
overwhelmed with the cracks of times
hurt      anger      pain       love
the pearls of perspiration waltzed across her mountainous brow
where the agony of the heat pierced her shallow flesh
and the sun contrived hills and valleys from the pain in her soul

Inked Thoughts

I can’t always place my emotions or begin to understand their source. There would just be moments in time where these phrases, words, vivid imagery and thoughts would just overwhelm me. Usually I had to stop the task at hand and write it down whether or not I understood it. This poem was birthed from one of those moments.

Untitled

The dark grains of life
once filled with a bright glowing hue of oily noir
seemed to slowly fade away
they were stressed away with every
stroke of bristle
only to be massaged by the wind

today’s new thoughts are just yesterday’s reincarnated worries
carrying a brand new grain
to a brand new death
when will it all cease

Inked Thoughts

I have been writing poetry since I could remember. I have about 5 or 6 journals that are filled with the rants of an emotional adolescent. I don’t even remember the rules and guidelines to writing proper poetry but I know that it was the best way for me to capture the vivid thoughts I had. And it was better than continuing to store my thoughts in dark places.

I can’t remember what I was feeling the day I wrote this. But it was probably feeling guilty about doing something I shouldn’t have. That’s when I was the best at writing, is when I was convicted about something that I knew God wouldn’t be pleased with. I hope you can relate but if not, simply take a moment and reflect on the things you might be storing in the dark corners.

Dark Corners

i’m so afraid of being judged
that i’m a prisoner to my flesh
i can’t allow anyone to come in
because the floors are dirty
and the walls are covered in grime
you’ll find flickering lights
and critters that scurry at noise
there’s a stench that plagues the nostrils
and a smoke that blurs the eyes
refrain from applying too much weight on the floor
to the quicksand, you’ll fall captive
i’d find you liar if you say you never been here before