a rant on overextended adolescence

Overextended adolescence has taken us by the throat. The child becomes the grown up- yet the bar remains all too low. Generations before laid the floor too far down. Their ceiling is the first steps of these to come. But they too often don't invest and only suppress. Creativity tried to thrive-but maybe good intentions, maybe indecision, only cause the imagination to die. We don't give them room to breathe, all we do is chalk up their inefficiency, shoving it in their face."Be a child-live your life, at at 35 I'm sure you'll realize, now maturity will arrive." Instead we watch them go from edge to cliff no finger is lifted to help. They all have troubles at this age- but we don't try to help them learn the lesson from our book, our name on the page. 'Cause the dark pit is swallowing lives.You see David lead an army and ruled a nation, "but these youth- they're full of vain imaginations." Mary carried a King when they don't have the ability to even carry their own dreams. Anne wrote the diary of an era-but they die before they realize they have no need to wait to see their story start. Rachel started a reaction of hope-but we have lost all of ours in this out of control nameless mass. Lets allow the children to grow up and be who they are-reach out and guide them- help them cling to a Greater Cause. For its up to us to see this through- where the next generation goes- relies on the trail you've left to follow.

Desk of Memories

Pages mount on the desk of memories.

 stories, poems, thought and lesson plans

  No red marker to correct

   Only pen and paper to revise

    a constant student of words I am

     books of life lay inside these lines

      What is it all for?

       They lay there graded by me

        critiqued by me, on the desk of memories

       there is no rubric for the form

      no time for rough drafts

     these stories, poems, thoughts and lesson plans

    are written in bold emotion

   with italicised mindsets 

  and underlined meanings

 lay it down to get it all out

As the pages mount on the desk of memories

The Words I Whispered

Standing there with your hands on my sides

The grin on your face mirrored in mine

Our laughter could be heard down the road

This moment too sweet-can I make it pause?

These words are caught in my throat

As my eyes get pulled to the lightning from afar

The thunder above echoes our applause

A kiss on the forehead nearly pushed me over the edge

Butterflies rise inside as a sigh escapes

If I could only get this out- do you know I feel this way?

This memory remains now- on my heart engraved

With my cheek in your hand, my lips ready to say your name

Yet as we said goodbye I watched my moment slip away

Still I whispered those words to the dark in your wake.

Letting the Thoughts Flow

The tick of a typewriter wont compare to the frustrated rhythm of thoughts.
A constant whack of hammering stress tries to latch to my every breath.
Heavy is my chest as the soul gasps- grasping to be free of these worries.
What the heart knows- my mind wont be convinced.
He who has promised is faithful, what does it look like to walk in trust?
Like the typewriters tape, thoughts snake and choke my words.
Prayers come desperate and quick. The bar slides-am I just losing ground?
You see me confident; standing tall. 
But inside with every strike of the key my stature shrinks.
Insecurities spelled out.
"X" marks the spot where a typo was exposed.
Reword and try again, fingers tremble a the slurred prose.
I may be wavering but BLAST! I will hope.
Learn to dance in rhythm with the ticking thoughts
The hammer is a chisel to reveal the soul on the inside of this marble shell.

Where Does the Lightning Bug Sleep?

Lightning bug in the day, 

Ive never noticed you before!

At night you shine-

You are the star that hovers close-and shoots far!

But when the dawn meets the day- 

I've never considered where you go to stay.

Do you try with all your might 

To continue to shine and show your light? 

While all we do is walk on by-

Ignoring you and your unique design.

Sometimes I feel I am at fault

Of ignoring creation in all it's facets

No second thought, no time to halt.

Though the Father whispers-

Slow down in this moment and catch it!

I will choose to both look for and see

All that this day brings to me.

And when dusk meets the night,

Lightning bug, I'll appreciate even more, your beautiful sight!

Inhale With Body, Soul and Spirit

Each breath- laborious to take

Rest you say.

Sit still you say.

Peace you say.

The breathing mask cups my mouth, 

As tender as a loving hand to my cheek.

Deep inhale of grace.

Rasping vocal chords-

Sore from frustrated cries.

Pained from desperately screamed prayers

A soothing cool balm,

Coats this voice of mine.

Inhale. Faith pierces my sore lungs.

Heart beating too fast to keep up.

The rhythm out of place-

As my mind flounders in these thoughts

Pounding my chest-

Seeking relief in Your eyes.

Inhale a deluge of love. I catch my breath.

+ 1 Timothy 1:14 (MSG)
"Grace mixed with faith and love poured over me and into me. And all because of Jesus."

Fingerpainting

Ive never doubted your character

Only on occasion mine

You call me a Masterpiece-

My Artist has no flaw.

But me, I see only finger paint

Strewn across thick skin

No distinct form to view

Colors mismatched, they simply bleed.

Individual merit seems mixed in

Possibility was once a seed

 A thought to translate to paper

But when the attempts played out

The product is far from imagination

Ive never doubted your design

Only on occasion mine

When I'm done smearing the lines

There is paint all across the floor

Who will help see the picture

Does your flattery only go-

As far as a child's hand? 

Maybe the worth is less then quoted

Creative planning seems now eroded.

I never doubted the Hand I hold

Only the work of mine.

I will never doubt the path you set

Only these steps of mine.

Another Drive Home, Another Day

Driving down this familiar way. Here all distractions fade. So skillfully avoided in the fray, were the constant plagueing worries of my day.

With rain blurring the turns, like bad medicine- reality comes with a burn. Apathetic day dreams only make you loose your turn. When will I ever learn?

This drive is autopilot in my mind. Walking in the storm would bring solace of a kind. Music blarring avoiding preception's rewind. Engine reving, I'm another day behind. 

Hands left with nothing but to grip the wheel. I dont have control- thats all I ever feel. The end decision is something so hard to unseal. The yellow center line-thats what is real.

Forget The Birds With Broken Wings

Watch the bird as she floats on the wind

Invisible hands giving her flight

A furrowed brow wonders at the miracle

So free and naturally she goes, it only seems right

I've come close to flying out in the great somehwere

Felt the wind in my hair as I ran

Kept pushing forward as I waited for the right moment

At sight of sun shine-my lift was weighed down by the quicksand

Cruelly clipped many wings have been

I see passions all around fallen to the ground

Thats not me- I'm created for more

My Father lifts me up-Oh his voice, just the sound!

From my stomach to heart to thoughts,

The possibliities stir with the rustlingt of the trees

I lift up my face to the beauties in the sky soaring-

Thats when he whispers, "Ohy dear one, thats how I made you to be"

As The Unsure Deer

As the dear seeketh out a shelter

   So my soul seems to find something to fear

You alone set my spirit on fire

   And I long to cling to thee

I alone choose to bend my knee

   I alone make the choice to see

I alone choose to fan the fire

  And I long to die to me.

+ Psalm 42:1
As a deer pants for flowing streams,
so pants my soul for you, O God.

Inception

Suggestion of a path diverging from my own. Possibilities untold with an outcome appealingly unknown.

Not so deep yet that I cannot swim ashore. Still the waves of "what if" leave me shaking at my core. 

Imagination's sigh quickly bonded to the thought, as my limp hands empty of a map, scramble to find a route.

God, is this right? Do you want me in this place? Seeking your wisdom; I only want to obediently run this race.

Doldrums

Step by step
into the fog
where sight is forgotten
and lessons are blind
Transformation's
momentum
is brought to a halt
upon the precipice
above the plateau of
default.

GOD I want to
absorb this life
purpose in sight
gut adrift with butterflies
thick blood astir with passions
Spirit's breath
sets chest ablaze
where neutrals no longer an option
I stand at this cliff; there is only
action.

One Week of Apathy

Day One: On your knees with tears streaming- cause you so want to be closer to the Son. 

Day Two: Knees sore so you take a seat. Lips move to silent prayers- do you believe he hears? Is it true? 

Day Three: There is distractions all around that drown His voice out. Its not longer just you and He. 

Day Four: Busy days are a clamor overwhelming- you walk out and close your heart's open door. 

Day Five: Peace washed away as stress sneaks in. Trust now has fallen to your attempts as you in your own strength strive. 

Day Six: Directions confused as you try to remember how you got here. This must be fixed. 

Day Seven: Memory triggered and actions ensue. You're turning around and running hard after Him. Tears fall this time because your eyes strayed from Heaven. 

What does complete devotion look like? God in our impatience may we wait. In our distress may we trust. In our confusion may we cling. In our weakness may we lean in- and amidst our week may we listen. 

Story With the Untold Ending

Stories told throughout time

            The first line often ambiguous

            The timing unexpected

            Ending all assumption

Yours was a tale that pulled me in

Every line deepened the curiosity

All the new discovery only deeper drew

I devoured pages excitedly

            The smile you display in narration

            A tool that got me hook, line and sinker

            Twinkle in your eyes unquotable and nearly indescribable

            Possibilities building a shaky tower

This epic poem of life—so beautiful through your sight

Lines of connection heavily drafted by my hand

Expectation overwhelming though I tried to make it stem

Dam of emotions broke—knee deep too soon

            Comedy or tragedy?

            I tried to color inside the lines

            But all the same the shift came

            In my life—characters like you never stay long

The volume closed—epilogue unseen

All my guessing doesn’t reveal the timeline

Direction unclear—reader left feeling lost

Building resumes with feelings subsidence

            Story left untold, words left unsaid

            Lines all blurry with what’s underneath

            Timing all wrong for pages to align

            Ending entirely, always, ambiguous.

I Broke the 10th Commandment

Thou shalt not covet your neighbor

Do I know what that means?

For everyone around is a piece

of the puzzle that makes up me

But tonight as I look out my window

The heavens display a scene

that has no owner-just a Creater

This artisan behind this artistic display

Gave us an all access display.

Other nights I marvel

Sometimes I simply ponder

Tonight a sneer passes over these lips

Because a bitter weed has wrapped itself

Around the stem of beauty spreading overhead

For I look on the starry array 

With a cloud heavy and near.

Clarity: their primary characteristic.

Jealousy may be mine.

They belong to all-but I want the right

To learn the secrets of their decisive sight

What I wouldn't give to have their view. 

Thou shalt not covet your neighbor

God forgive me- I broke the 10th commandment

Exchanging Exile For Homecoming

Frustrated wanderings- I wont forget my aim
Not a measuring stick, but the smile of One King
With head held high, Forward I go
See I wont stay here long, its not my home.

Tripping on the ruts along this twisting road
I brush myself off, Its okay they don't know.
Whether vintage, average or the "next big thing"
A time will come where all will see-

That no matter our rank- this life is an excursion
Exchanging exile for a homecoming.

Hesitant Seedling

Covered in mud

thats all I have known

i try to stay small

no threat approaches that way.

Keep it inside

no one can see

i dont even understand what is there

The stretch hurts

the preasure from inside-

it tries to break through

Why now?

ive never betrayed my call

bureid deep, not bothering anyone

But they say the cold is leaving

i hear rumours of a light to come

they break.

Theyre weak.

insides now spewed out

they stretch up to the unknown

Im losing my grasp

then it happens

with a stab from inside

My protecion is broken

as I looked down all was black

but up I felt welcoming call

Cautious and begrudging I move

the mud was now more gritty

i felt it scratching at my skin

Until my first breath of sun

my lungs expanded

fear gripped my chest

But I opened my eyes

greeted by a world

i never knew it was here

Danger and growth

a risk now at each side

but before, all i knew was mud

I allow the piercing expansion

i trust the rain

i breathe the light

A petal blooms

covered in sun

I never wouldve known

Hidden Sun Above Frozen Branches

There is a beauty found amidst this forest of ice

the heavy branches bow in submission

To the storm which left its imprisoning remains

As the sun flares down the branches shimmer with delight

Then a cloud passes eliminating the glint

If the frozen branches had voice-would they speak of pain?

There have been creatures before that were in such a state

Living, growing as they reach out for more

Until the unavoidable took hold with its cold grasp

So numerous; you may not recognize them alongside the others

Their voices frozen in the shame of lost hope's shadow in the past

Allure unmatched has a breath frozen in time, 

Why the fascination with the remnant of an event endured?

Could it be the hearts empathy for renewal on the other side? 

When clouds clear, the hope and clarity come alive

then is when the frozen one in the Son is able to abide.

There is a beauty found amidst the forest of ice

There have been creatures before that were in such a state

Allure unmatched has a breath frozen in time

Still, ice melts

Hearts remain,

Just hold on.

Photo by Twelve13 Photography/ Ashley Porter

Common Place Grace

Common place grace, a phrase too familiar.
Steps I take just shatter the display.
The pieces carefully crafted,
colors decisively chosen to create
a picture that will pacify the every day.

If we would realize the awe beneath,
then maybe we'd see the amazement
engraved an ancient scrolls.
Words build up the stage so pretty.
Actions an agent of decay.

The stands we take look more like promises that we love to break.
Amazing grace, once was a sweet sound
a wretch I may have remained to be
Who have we left unclaimed at the lost and found
Why are so many too blind to see?

The blood that flowed to the ground
Should forever be enough
But the power endowed gets lost in the crowd
Miracles only a show,
provision just false gain

May tears fall and soften the faint hearts
Where moss has covered
the foretold testimonies of the saints.
Altars built must be revisited
Binding their words around our necks.

May the grace once shown
Never be forgotten, overlooked or disdained
Instead may the Light
shining through the colored glass
Be a reminder of the awe to which I will forever lay claim.

Journey Through A Window

The snowflakes fall outside the window
Emerging from the solid white sky
Until they break with the horizon
You can't see their form as they cry
Once apart form the mass
The individual design takes flight
Bouncing and flitting the flakes come
Large and beautiful-you'd swear fluffy
They sway in the wake of their kin's path
Until, the cluster gets close
Though you'd rather catch it on your tongue-
It instead finds its way to the window pane
I watch with interest as the cold friend meets its end.
For that moment
I hold my breath,
As I watch the flakes cling
To the cold for just an instant
Before it conforms to its creation
The flake met by a surface unfamiliar-
Folds
Wiggles
Melts
The once solid, now just a droplet
Awaits further addition
I watch the drop-
I look through the small display
To the cloudy white heaven above
I see the snowflakes fall outside the window.
Their journey has just begun.

Continuous Destination

Where are you going and where have you been is more than a life question
its a continuous destination
we travel along on the fast passing train with
abrupt stops
that sometimes linger with pain
Yet we go forward slowly making our way
to the place we think we will stay.
But do we ever come to complete stop?
And if we do is that really where you want to be?
Never growing
only wishing for a location in your dreams?
Get on here
Stop at this terminus
you may not forsee the things you could miss
people pass by-- cities they melt
but all I want to do is look back
and know I've both lived and felt.
A life with direction doesn't always have signs
but a life worth living has a Map of a different kind
If you listen to the Conductor you will travel with out a care for the clock
only thoughts of whom with you rides,
ask them the questions-
where have you been and where are you going?
Maybe your going in the same direction.

"I know People Don't Like Panhandlers"

I walk out into the cold, leaving my crying babies behind. Just doing all I can to make people understand.

I'm not some deadbeat bum but a husband who can't find, what happened to the job upon which 

we built our lives.The empire I'd dreamed of seemed to be in reach, that was until the curtain

 fell on the show,the money wasn't there. We got kicked out of our life- with no where

 to go. Pinching every penny still didn't help.The puzzle pieces of our lives

 we had to sell. Head hung low, I walked to the mission, too ashamed to 

look 'em in the eye.Though whenever I was there they'd always smile.

Yet here I am in this parking lot, Scanning the cars for a kind face-

One that wont twist in disgust and look away but give me 

a listening ear-just a moment's glimpse of trust. 

I have a story to tell, and nothing to sell just 

a guy trying to help his family survive.You 

roll down your window- Did you just look

 me in the eye? I didn't even see a mask of 

fear. Feel my heart beat racing, what 

brought me to this place? I open 

the conversation with

 misplaced haste,"I know

 people don't like 

panhandlers but-"

There is always a but. 

"I know people don't like panhandlers..."

The Weeping Prophet Said It Well

Near God…Far God, the weeping prophet said it well

At Times we can stand immersed

While others we stand aloof

My stance, not yours

As I stand amazed at the sight of the moon so full

I wonder when my heart can feel that swell

The waves off shore crash

Where does the tide lie tonight?

Presence forever and always surrounding

Though tangible an adjective I must seek

When waters recede-yet I will trust

This ocean’s breadth wide, its depth overwhelming

My hair loose-in shambles as it falls about my shoulders

The evening breeze tossing it to and fro

Here I stand exposed

No fake and fancy adornment you won’t see through

I close my eyes as I will the tears to stay at bay

My desire for my King overcomes like a tidal wave

On my knees the sand digs deep in its mocking way

The drops on my cheeks a testament

If I could but be drift wood

Though seemingly displaced-your strong waves transform

Humility embraced-it rocks in your arms

Won’t you determine my destination too?

A shift in the winds as I open my eyes

The tide is coming, watch the waters rise! To my feet I stand-

All reservations lay beneath where my knees once did bend

Your melody of the deep harmonizes with my disappointed lament

Stars piercing the oil black sky; light my way

Drawn ever onward to the mysteries that ahead lay

Arms spread wide, heart laid bare

Hope manifested in the answer to a prayer

You are here.

Had to be my choice, not yours

While at times I stand aloof

I’ve decided to be immersed in submission

No matter what my feelings have said-

All the same, I stand on the shoreline of your presence.

Near God…Far God, the weeping prophet said it well.

+ Jeremiah 23:23-2 “Am I only a God nearby,” declares the Lord, “and not a God far away? Who can hide in secret places so that I cannot see them?” Declares the Lord. “Do I not fill heaven and earth?”