On a Day Like This...

Take a deep breath,
hold on tight.
Get a good grip
with all of your might.
Realize now
that no one pushes you
quite as hard
as you do.
Understand that
the one pressing on
your path and temple
from dusk until dawn
is the same one who
controls the pedal
currently pressed
to the metal.
Just let loose
of yourself
for a moment to
enjoy yourself.
While it may be hard
and never seems easy
you can still smile
on a day so breezy
and enjoy the good
God blesses upon you
in all you say
and all you do
for He never turns His back
on a child like you
but rather will
always carry you through.
On a day like this
just simply remember
the love He shows you
through every endeavor,
a love never failing,
never faltering, always strong,
one that lasts through
every trial, all life long.

Weakness and Fragility

Weakness and fragility,
signs of my futility,
yet no signs of utility
are coming from me now.
Fatigued and tired,
found with much ire,
as if cross-wired
with no function any more.
Thoroughly confused,
in and out of news,
piled with the refuse
as I should be.
To the side discarded
with no need to be guarded
in a sea never parted
away from anguish,
on a drowning ship
going down so quick
as the slow drip
now rushes in falls.
Efforts last ditched
with ideas pitched
without anything enriched
with any meaning.
Emptiness abounding
with nothing surrounding
but a chest pounding
with a heart soon to quit.

Expectations

I get discouraged,
get so down
for every time of need
I feel you're not around.
I need something done,
I need You to come through
exactly when
I want You to.
I know what
and who You are
but that's a cry
from what I want, so far.
I don't always
want what's offered
for I expect
something other.
It is at this point
that I remember
that You are no genie
but rather Someone greater.
You don't solve every
one of my petty
problems when I want
but rather when You're ready.
You don't succumb
to my selfish whims
for that would bring
an outcome too grim.
You don't listen
to me when
it would destroy
my soul right then.
Instead you say "no"
and upset me
to, in the long run,
make me happy.
You steer me away
from my desires
that would lead
me to the fires
and instead protect
me from all bad
like You always have,
my eternal Dad.
The love you show
day by day
is one I could
never deserve this way
but no matter what
I've said or done,
you hold on tightly to me
as Your child, like I'm the only one;
and for that, I love you.

Draw Me Close

Draw me close to You,
into Your arms,
safe from myself
and the world's harms.
Preserve me from
the coming attacks
to which without You
I would succumb so fast.
Blind my eyes
when evil comes to,
to show me all
that it can do.
Break these knees
so I cannot walk
towards the voices
that do stalk.

And Lastly...

...change this soul
that resists so well
all You do
to save it from hell
and bend it to
what is Your will
as to You be the glory
for all of it still.
Amen.

In Check

In check
and supressed,
feeling down
and depressed,
it's my fault,
this giant mess
brought by me,
whom I detest.

All happening,
all so quickly,
this situation
making me sickly,
getting even
more prickly
as time passes
and speech becomes thickly.

Confusion runs
rampant still
with no one to
receive the bill
I must pass
before the spill
further runs
the full mill.

One effort
last ditched,
one trailer
last hitched,
with no more
ideas pitched
there's no chance
for a last switch.

Ignorant Arrogance

An aura around,
a scent of stench,
an attitude full
of consequence,
an arrogance supreme
to all except
an ignorance that
solidifies no respect,
this human is
blind to all
that steps in front
of his pathetic crawl.
So blind to his
inferiority,
he is convinced
of his superiority.
He does not care
to hear the other
side of things
from another.
Speak to him
if you choose
but it's a fight
you're sure to lose.
Until the day
he dies and sees
the errors of
the way he leads
he will continue
to amount
to nothing but
an eternal fount
of arrogance
and lies that spew
nothing but
recycled refuse.
The worst of all
is the lack of any
possible
happy ending
for it will not be
found here,
a terrible truth
all but him fear.

Your Protector

I think about the times you hurt,
the times of pain,
and I just want to hold you.
I just want to make those people
who made your tears appear
get their fair due.
I want to console you,
assuring there is no permanent
damage that has been done.
I think how I would yell,
how I would scream, would curse
those who hurt my love, my one.
I think how much I wish
I could simply be where you are
at this, your greatest moment of grief.
I want to be the one
who intercedes and stops the offenders,
the one who provides the much needed relief.
I want to be the one,
your protector for all days,
and never be apart enough for you to doubt.
I think about the time
I can show you this truth,
a time that is approaching quickly...
that is here now.

Words to Sound Waves

Words I could share
would do no good.
They would be as empty sounding
as you would think they should.
They would be powered by
emotions that carry so profoundly
more emotions found layered
in a psyche, a heart, a soul so soundly.
These things to be spoken,
alas, cannot be said aloud
due to the fact they are rejected
by the few around, those so proud.
Therefore the words of meaning
that could have potentially gone so far
will never make the transition to sound waves
but instead stay captured, in a head, with a screeching halt.

The Shadow Strengths

They tear you down.
They show others the truth,
the true colors of each person
becoming clearer through.
They come on the back
of the wanted attributes,
on the ground below
without any disputes.
You know they are there.
You know they are waiting.
You know they won't leave.
They're not even debating
because as long as you have
those strengths you so love
you will also have the shadows
that you can't rise above.
As soon as you realize
you cannot rid yourself of them
is the moment you can cope
with living with these anti-friends.
You can realize they won't
disappear overnight
while simultaneously knowing
you don't have to take them without a fight.
Just because you know
they will be there for a time
does not mean you have to like them
for that would be a crime.
Instead you must remember
they may, at some point, step into the light
joining the strengths you so pine for
and leaving behind the weaknesses you despise.
As previously acknowledged
some will always remain
until the day you leave here
for the eternal rewards you gain
but until that day comes
and is a present present for you
you must simply be aware of the fight
you must put up as that which you must do.

Yelling and Accusation

S/he never has a
moment of hesitation
to shy from the instinct
of yelling and accusation.
S/he has a certain knack
for passing the buck
onto someone else
who has no luck.
S/he doesn't keep hidden
what s/he is thinking
as others' hopes and dreams
begin an immediate sinking.
S/he hurls the insults
and words that hurt
as if a grave
needs any more dirt,
but all the while,
while the others' is pain real,
it is something
that she feels.
The ones s/he channels
the anger towards
are only pawns
she tries to push forward,
yet s/he's beginning
to see so clearly
that all the screaming
is due to all the fearing.
When it finally hits home
is when she finally sees
nothing but a face
that she now buries.
The tears show now
where this anger has gotten her:
to a place of regret
where the real scars last forever.

Choice

Which way to go
when the heart's pulling both ways,
what path to take
when the strings are too tight to stay...
incomplete thoughts rushing,
incomplete moments taking place,
incomplete processes not acted upon
in an incomplete, yet finished race...
decisions to be made
by a heart so apart torn
with suppressed emotions
that were long ago born...
only thoughts strung
together in a nonsensical line
with emotions hung
in a nonsensical time...
choices to be made
but only one that matters,
that one of the heart
over the others of cling and clatter..
all down to one
final reveal for good,
that one only time
tells if what happens should.

Idolatry

It blinds you to reality.
It clouds your clear vision.
It strips you of your freedom,
in exchange, to be imprisoned.
It preaches happiness
only to take, to strip.
It grabs you by the seams
and immediately begins to rip.
It can take a good
and turn it on its head
until it becomes
better off dead.
It can cover itself
under the guise of usefulness.
Its power to do this
renders you powerless
until you raise up
to scream in its face,
to set it so far back
you can take your rightful place,
yet the courage that it takes
to stand up and say
what must be spoken
must take place after you pray
for if you ask the only
God that can save you
to lead you away from sin
He will always bring you through.
It just takes that first
bit of courage, leap of faith
and our Father, the Lord of lords,
will carry you away.

Bleeding Out

Pushing so hard
to obtain the goal,
pawning off parts
soon to be the whole,
he stands up
to scream this, to shout
until his throat
begins to bleed out.

The claim presents that
it's all for the best.
It's all looking out
for all's interest.
The claim being pushed
is soon it will remove doubt
yet the job that is at hand
will be the one to bleed out.

The day does approach
quicker than before
as the promise made
is at the front door
but the fulfillment
of which the dreams were about
suddenly, unexpectedly,
gushes, bleeding out.

Sacrifices were made,
lives were put on hold
as things that actually mattered
were bartered off and sold.
After all of it is said
and all done with the bout
the pursuing of the passing
leaves the soul empty, bleeding out.

A Budding Romance

They walk down the hall
yet to be equipped with many of life's facts
as they "inadvertently" bump
each other's little backpacks.
Though few in years and perhaps wisdom,
they speak to one another as if full grown.
They've been told of the cootie epidemic
but they believe it to be overblown.
They ignore the surrounding riffraff
as they are currently preoccupied by the walk.
With hands clinching straps,
their little mouths continue to talk.
They talk about all that is important
in their little worlds today
but also about all the mundane
that happens to join their conversation's way.
That certain feeling being felt
seems to begin to cast its trance.
Though having no more than six years on earth,
this is obviously a budding romance.
It began before this current scene
with previous groundwork previously laid
and will surely continue forth from here
to a later time and a later tree's shade.
It could end at any moment now,
yet it could last the rest of eternity.
It could end at this current young time
or it could go through the years of maternity,
yet the beauty of this painted scene
is found in the hearts and minds of the kids:
it doesn't presently matter when it concludes
because the current present is ignorant bliss.

An Immature Overture

Making a move,
an attempt at being smooth,
a pass so rude,
nothing else is remembered.
A denial,
a claim at a pretrial
for a crimeless guile,
a character dismembered,
yet facts show
the real offense didn't go
unnoticed in the flow
of the grind of life.
That gross overture
made so immature,
a disgusting, tasteless nature
to only add unneeded strife,
but the prevailing of justice
to justify all of us,
to end all the fuss,
to return order to the world around
allows us now to go forward
without another word
of how this incident turned
into a devastating truth found.

Anticlimactic

You think it's coming,
you think you do:
you think you know
but you have no idea.
You love to jump
ahead and anticipate;
you think it's good;
you think you're perfect.
You think you can
predict the next move
as if you are so suave,
so sleek and so awesome,
but you have yet
to realize what's coming,
hitting so abruptly
as it hits you so surprisingly.
Just heed this warning
as it may be your last:
never again judge first
for the negative of judging too quickly
is a surefire recipe
for a disastrous finish
leading to a future
that will only wane.

A Refusal to Niceties

The chit-chat stops,
the small talk ceases
as tensions rise
and pressure increases.
The one-liners prior
that meant nothing
turned so quickly
into something.
They turned a simple
encounter of two
into a battle
that began to draw a few.
The refusal to niceties
and shallowness rehearsed
came to one
abruptly and unversed,
but this explosion
should have been
spotted a mile
away by all men.
The waste of time
and amount of facade
that went into the
eventual lightning rod
tore all bridges
as down they fell
and burned with people
torn and hurt like hell.

A Respite That Renders

Designed and created to help,
it now controls you,
but now that it leaves
you don't know what to do.
Its respite renders you
helpless in every way.
You can't think, you can't act,
you don't know what to say.
Instead you react
in a state of sheer panic,
like an addict attacked
by his paranoia, brutally manic.
Your irrational dependency
that, prior you thought nothing about,
now strikes you crippled
without even a voice to shout.
You cannot shift blame
for there is only one
who lacked preparation
when all was said and done.
Now that you feel
a world crashed and crumbled
perhaps the ruin that remains
will cause you to be humbled.
Perhaps now you won't
take advantage of the situation
but rather serve as more than a puppet
so you are full of more than consternation.

Lead

You take turns, switching off,
changing who takes the lead.
You take turns, grabbing mics,
changing who first speaks.
No one knows, nor should they,
who will step up at any time
because it's not as small as one
but rather a greater goal to shine.
Once the focus shifts from that,
the vision is immediately lost
as the genuine passion, and message, too,
is the communication that is the cost
for this is not even about your group
but rather the others you inspire
and a passion not soon to be forgotten
by loyal followers who never tire.

Ms. Trust

So many questions,
so many opinions,
never knowing
when which happens,
but where should
I place belief
when encountering Ms. Trust,
when instantly I need relief.

I met you long
ago, Ms. Trust,
when faith in others
was a much needed must.
I did not know
where to turn to
so I tried on for size
trying on you.
We had some good times
together then
as I let down
my guard when
I listened to
your words said
as all the utopia
sunk into my head,
but just as I
was fully prepared
Ms. Trust, you blindsided me,
leaving me impaired.

I opened up to one
who sounded so good,
whose name itself
was misunderstood.
Now I know better
than to turn easily to
the downfalls of Ms. Trust,
the downfalls of you,
but be rest assured
next time won't follow
for I will be equipped
as better I will know.
Things will never again
for me be the same.
Ms. Trust, I will never
again play your game.

The Fight

My life is so perfectly fantastic without you,
yet you try to convince me otherwise.
You try to order me what to do
as if I am equipped with blind eyes,
yet somehow you seem to continually
be a dog in this internal fight,
one that is trained impressively ferociously,
one that packs a punch with its bite.
You take what my vision daily sees
and, for your own beneficial use, turn it on its head.
You take truths known and twist them into deceits
turning what was once common knowledge into confusion instead.
My mind's eye can get back onto the right path
but your trickery does not permit that for long
as your faux-friendship, disguised anger and wrath,
wastes no time in leading any soul down a path of wrong.
The definition of the blind leading the blind,
one of us is bound to cause the other certain death,
an outcome already dreamed about in each mind,
a goal desired, pursued until nothing's left;
but you must remember something in preparation
for a battle soon to be a near endless war:
you had better allot time for recuperation
as this fight will be all you asked for and more.

Thoughts Down

Not much time
to get thoughts down
with nothing but
a rush that surrounds.
The time begins to slow
in the mind that tries
to accomplish goals
that just try to die,
yet simultaneously
the time flies
as sense of accomplishment,
in no surprise,
escapes my grasp
and flies out the window
as my need to do anything
besides to go
diminishes with
all hopes of finishing
all that I set out to
as all sense is diminishing.

Ghost Lives, Dies Around

Touch me
so that
I know
you're alive,
though the
bitter truth
is that
you died.
Look at
me with
your eyes
open wide
while mine
stay shut
hiding what's
not fine.
I will
be content
to let
your ghost
haunt all
that I
once cherished,
now lost.
Dreams leave,
rise, fall
with all
else around,
to die
so loudly
as only
death resounds.

Seed

It starts with a seed...

...that little thought
thought not to count,
thought it will
to nothing amount.
It's just a blip
on the mind's radar,
something that won't
go that far.

That little comment
thought not to harm,
thought by others
to be full of charm.
It's just a word
or two come out
that is thought
nothing about.

That little contact
thought not to mean
a thing to either
in the grand scheme.
It's just a hug
that neither seem
to care too much about
as innocent it's deemed...

...until it's not.

That little occurrence
thought to mean nothing,
thought to not
amount to anything,
it went too far
as imaginations ran
and ruined their lives
in the shortest span.

A Nightmare to Be Weaned

We pine for a life
normal and mundane
until we get it
and do nothing but complain.
We want the action,
the excitement and pursuit
for which we're ill prepared,
something about nothing we can do.
There we are in a place
of which we said we dreamed
but appears a nightmare
now to be weaned.
This nightmare will surely
for sometime continue
as we worked so hard
for it to do.
However we now know
the place we are in
is the most fulfilling
again and again.
We, perhaps, will learn
to be happy and content
in a current disposition
instead a constant lament...

...or perhaps not.

Why Mock the Maker?

Does a painting mock its artist?
Does a toilet mock the plumber?
Do the clouds mock the sky
and is math mocked by numbers?
Do feet decide to mock
the ground upon which it walks?
Do pencils likewise mock
paper that allows the bearing of all?
Then why must I hear
the mouths that were made
mock the very hand
that causes them to be fed?
The creation needs to silence
themselves before the One
who put them where they are
is, with His mercy, gone.