Saturday, June 21, 2008

Heartbreak Cannot Break Me

Today is breaking into the most beautiful dawn of a new day
Today is the day I have made the choice
Today is a revolution within the core of my heart
Today I choose to live and thrive

My past has its pain and hardness
My past has crept under my skin and eaten my spirit
And though I have succumbed and fallen and darkness once ensued
Today is a new day and I refuse to fall, to be consumed by the darkness
I refuse to waste my life anymore

My future is uncertain for events which are to come
But my future has its certainty and clarity in the strength and vigor I demand
My future is intact for the choice I make today
I choose my freedom to live, to love, and to arise

I take the stand to preserve my life
Untouched by his unfortunate hand
He is not my life, he is not the substance of my heart
He is but one man who will fade as surely as he first appeared

My life is a force all its own
It rises above all the sin and sickness and death
And it takes me along in its unstoppable stride
My life is mine, so safe, so untouchable
So long as I raise my voice to make this choice
To embrace the goodness abound and live

Wednesday, June 18, 2008

God = Spirit

Spirits rise from the watery depths upon the dawn,
A mother’s love gone from this worlds view,
Sins of man, a biter tale so foregone,
Ranks of the unwashed left to construe.

Across the star washed bays and rustic glens,
Ringing with the crash of pikes and wounded men,
Long before through watch men’s star filled lens,
Monks in joy, bent in prayer to say ‘amen.’

For id a man is born of spirit, of water.
Entrance into the kingdom of God a waits,
And all of this lands sons and daughters,
With revolution’s passion they raise.

Through the clover, little did they know, over the sea,
Christ their savior bled to make men free.

Tuesday, June 17, 2008

God = Freedom

They cut cold steal from the richest summer clay,
Breast plates which light shine most brilliantly,
Across the seas, above waves of gray,
To a land of souls, to time so resilient.

To see a light shinneth in darkest void,
Across endless seas of ice and bone,
For the darkness comprehended not but destroyed,
With iron and fire, swallowing up his throne.

But across the sea, shores of golden sand,
Sweet and blood of rebellion so bittersweet,
Barefoot children of God, marching hand and hand,
A land of liberty, fields of meadowsweet.

For the weakness of man is the strength of God,
The uniqueness of sin, liberties fa├žade.

Monday, June 16, 2008


Companionship is a relationship
Between, among, and through two
People who instinctively demand
Spending the time on this earth-ship

Companionship is a loveship
Deeply rooted in dual hearts
Which thrive in the strength of the bond
And strive to continually go deeper

Companionship is not a relationship
For the weak, the lazy, or the passive
It is a mode of life
Requiring one to be active, attentive, and persistent

Companionship shakes your emotionship
Can you take it?
Can you, will you fight for it?
Because shakes are tests
Which distinguish companions from all the others

If you pass these tests you prove that you care
More about what is compatible than what is frustrating

Companionship is all relationships combined.
It is the commitment to finding new ways of relating if old ways have faded.
It is the friendship, the love, the strength, the weakness, the persistence.

Companionship is what I share with you mother of mine.
It is what brings out my tears and my cries.
It is the healing force that bonds us so inseparably.

I love you, undoubtedly, unavoidably, and instinctively.
You are my companion. Thank you,
Happy Mother’s Day

(obviously written for my mom, 2005)


My heart is going down with the sun
In your absence it feels more like negligence
I don’t need you to live, I don’t need you to carry on
But I’d like it if our hands fell into one another’s
I’d like it if you and me together were written into the stars

This isn’t set in stone
And though I’m in this for sure
I’m only as sure and you’re surely there for me
No one said it was easy
But no one said it would be this hard
I’m choosing us every day. What are you doing?

I’ve never needed someone to survive
But as I build a life with you, needing is part of it all
And there’s no one I want to need more than you
Without your voice on the other end or an affirmation that you need me too
I’m slipping further and further away

I get what you’re going through, and I wish I were there to help
But at the same time I’ve got stuff too and I want to share it with you
Your distant love isn’t love enough. And the occasional I love you won’t do.
Where were you when I cried, where were you when I disappeared?
Did you even notice? Did you even care?
Or did you just go on through your day, completely unaware

Maybe I’m just bitter and maybe you have a good reason
But it’s getting cold and regardless that this is new
I need you to tell me that you wish you could hold me so I’m reminded of what I’ll come home to
If you don’t need me then I can train myself not to need you
In your frozen state, if I stick around I’ll freeze over too
So I’m sorry to say my love,
But I am breaking away and drifting out into the unknown
Unless you have something to say and care to pull me back
I'll be gone forever, and God knows I won't look back.

(written 10/07)

The Depth

I’m feeling this night; the darkness presses strong against my body
I’m reeling in the depth of your eyes and the subtlety of your intensity
Falling and rising, together we be
Tonight I’m yours
Take me unreservedly

I thought I locked my heart away,
But you’re the warden with the keys to every cell
There’s no place for me to run and hide, no distance too far away
You’d still find me and spell-bind me
The air I breathe is tasting of you

(written 10/07)


Taking this vacancy, she’s helpless in his wake
Waiting by the coast line, the moon is rising late
She’s holding in her pocket the only thing she knows
She’s falling through his heart again, with only scars to show

Watching the faces of the people wandering down the avenue
Looking for some answers to her questions from the wise few
She’s making her way down this crowded street of crimes
Her troubled past is her only sense of time

Compromising the world for the promise of tomorrow
Saying that somehow it must get better
Unable to wake from his fatal spell
She’s in so deep, whether she’ll make it out is hard to tell

Sleeping through the days for the moments that aren’t bad
Fading in the light. He doesn’t always get mad.
She’s half of everything she thought she could be
She guesses she was never supposed to be all that her mama could see

Blamed and guilt-stricken, she crumbles on the bed
Run over by a railway train, she’s mangled, but not yet dead
A life of beauty forgotten, she’s weaker with every fragile step
Unsure of how she got here, she turns over and takes her last breath

(written 9/07)

Wednesday, June 11, 2008


My mind twitches in anguish, reaching back into eternity as it claws beyond the deepest reaches of my conciseness. Each memory from that night feels like a knife. The razor sharp edge of each memory plunges into my soul with each passing thought. Every attempt I make to recall, to remember, even simply to put to rest that night yields only the greater terror of regret. I toss and turn each night still. I fight the sheets curling my fists into the pillows as if I can still feel the warmth… the glow…

…having spoken so softly upon the night air, having drifted so light heartedly, only to find that so much passion could have ended in so much pain, that she must have been carried from that place, that time, that infinitesimal moment of our lives humiliated, betrayed, defiled; so many emotions I can not begin to imagine! And I to would be betrayed, I to would become conceded and lost in my own selfish pride.

Ye think sin in the beginning sweet,

Which in the end causeth the soul to weep,

When the body lieth in clay.

My body is yet to rest in clay for it has yet only to come to rest in a pool of crimson red. And if the concerns of the Everyman may be tossed aside I found my self asking, as Hamlet had:

Must I remember? Why, she would hang on him

As if increase of appetite had grown

By what it fed on; and yet, within a month –

Let me not think on’t!

But what, thy name is woman? Frailty she did not show but instead the very cunning of a prince. A devil she was and pleasant shape she did take. As Hamlet I to was robbed of reason’s sovereignty, and drawn only into the madness of my youth. To brotherhood and friendship nothing was conceded, and so much more lost. The bitter sweet dichotomy of wilted roses and crossed swords never more would be seen again.


Speak softly in the night air,
For I have written of a soft trite love,
Gone in the dim of my heart,
It darts about the four walls of my mind,
Apart from all of life,
All but rife with grief,
It floats out among the country lanes,
Trying in vain as It might,
Fighting for a place upon the night sky,
It whispers to me and you,
For it grew anew upon this night,
Bursting with the fruits of devotion,
With notion of only desire,
For it grew of a slow birth,
Full of self worth born of the earth,
It dawned upon this world,
Growing lust only from love,
As a dove slipping from only the whitest glove,
With an innocence so soft,
Showing me to love and follow again,
Never to folly in this hollow land again,
Speaking softly in the night air.

Monday, June 9, 2008

Old Poems

This is a selection of poems that where returned to me some time ago. They where written while I was still in high school, perhaps they might shine some light on to my early thinking.

“The Beautiful Day” and other lost thoughts.

I sit but to rest,
And rest but to sit.
As I rest,
My mind,
My body,
My soul regenerates,
From the slings and arrows of another day gone.
I sit but to grow,
And grow but to rise.
I rest and sit,
Waiting for a greater day,
When the slings and arrows will stop,
And the door way to a thousand new loves will open,
A thousand battles will be won,
And a thousand friendships will be gained.
I rise but to love,
And love but to be victories.
Sadly night will fall quickly on this day,
And I will be left alone too,
To bear the slings and arrows,
By myself,
But I will not be alone,
For I will have the memory of,
A thousand loves,
A thousand friends,
And a thousand victories.
I succeed but to remember,
And remember but to live.
My life will trudge on from this day,
And I shall remember that wonderful day,
Till death knocks,
But this death will not be sad,
For it will lead but only onward to the next beautiful day.
I live but to die,
And die but to bring life.

The Regiment

Icy steal in the cold of night,
Covered in a icy rain so slight,
Soon the bitter cold will break,
Hell will soon come to take,
In the dragon’s icy breath,
Consuming in a dance of death,
And there in the dark of night,
Silken earth to pull in tight,
Away from the dragon’s breath,
Locked away in sudden death,

Am I my brother’s keeper?
For the sun rises on the reaper,
Cries go up, as the drum rolls,
The drum and bugle pour from the soul,
It calls for the deadly charge,
And the regiment follows the flag at large,
May no man turn toward mother’s breast,
All went forth with youthful zest,
Drawing out the dragon’s blood,
Turning the icy field to mud,
Running the rivers red,
Washing away the dead,
The regiment’s colors bled,
Black there soul’s lead them on,
Along the grey road between heaven and hell,
The gold splintering paths that reach down,
To the pearly gates of hell,

Our souls fight on,
Our bodies long broken,
And in the glinting shards of that token,
Which was the regiment’s glory,
Now it breeds a great story,
That has grown in the summer’s heat,
So bright to blind us from the lord,
Are we our brother’s keeper?
For the regiment has fallen,
We are befallen,
For God must forgive us,
God to forgive the regiment.

Seasons in Contrast

Winter snow,
Blows to and through,
The lonely hills,
Nothing fills the void;
Like my love,
Of wooded country side,
Of a country of old
And a city of new,
Love of winter snow.
Warm and rare,
The dew does drop,
Covering the lonely tree tops,
Dripping and dropping down and thru, to the forest floor,
Cool, calm it is,
The summer dew,
Warm and rare it is.

The Minstrel

Minstrel tall and proud
Never lost in a crowd,
Marching to and through
Never touching a drop of brew,
Long In frame and sharp in dress
His uniform never a mess,
His music drafting from corner to corner
In no place was he a foreigner,
His pipes sharp and bright
Shining as brilliant as a knight,
Crisp and clean was their sound
Filling the room all around,
In reels and jigs they danced
All where entranced,
And tears did pour
For ballets of war,
Of lands long forgotten
Scores of clans lost to lore,
A man of tradition
A true musician.

Night Walk

Last night I went for a walk down past the house and along the edge of our pound. As my feet carried me along the edge the water I found my self drifting from thought to thought. My eyes followed the edge of the water and then out into the deep black of its depths. And their in the darkest of the water I could see small twinkling reflections. I looked up to be completely engulfed in brilliant lights. With no moon in the sky I found it to be absolutely exploding with stars. Stars I felt as If I had never seen before and never would again. It was as if, as I stirred into the night sky I could see out past the furthest reaches of the universe. Out beyond mans imagination. Past all limits of human reason. In that moment it seemed as if something was stirring back.

I’m not sure I knew what it was. Or, if it was a kind of thing one can even know. I was, although, very certain it was something I’d like to know. There is I know something which keep all those stars up there, and keep me down here stirring into the water and out into the universe; Something akin to the laws of physics or nature. But this was nothing like that; this was something more, something behind all of that. I felt that it must have been something like what Einstein or Kepler felt when they stirred into the heavens for the first time. It was not, on the other hand limited to them, as I pointed out before it was beyond the simple laws of nature. It was much more then the simple how of some indefinitely complex machine.

I would at first have ventured to suppose it was some great moral force, something which was akin to the presents of God. I’m just sure that it was. To do so I suppose is a lapse of faith on my part, but this felt different. It was most certainly not the God of the Old Testament. It did not come down in fire and lighting. And for the God of the new covenant, it still seemed to be almost to sublime.

I would hope that it’s the sort of thing all humans experience, Perhaps one reason to still hold on to the broken fragments of the human condition. The very presents of it may be all that is needed to hold against the maddening fear brought on by the Dawkins syndrome. The ever steady creep of progress which in the darkness consumes all… a light shineth in darkness, and the darkness comprehended it not… I wonder if I can, I wonder if even Euclid could. But did he even need to…
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