Basement Acoustics

Constantly running
From tragedy's hallowed porch
The distance is all but a blur
With the eyes turned backwards

No goal was ever in sight
Just a forlorn starting line
Glory's distant shores
Tend to be a memory
...a fleeting one at best

Feeding on the dirge
Feeling unworthy of the flute
Joy seems so much farther beyond
Anything that could be grasped

Solitude's noose is in the corner
Next to the ash of a million bridges
Never wanting to call attention
So a trophy case was built

Be still My child
May these arms carry you
The fractured legs
Will never escape disfunction

Hush my beloved
And let My hope arise
In the heart of my children
I will consume the gaze

A time will come for everything
Everything in its place
Even you believe ot or not
Do not scorn my grace

The love beats stronger
Than your rusted shell
Completion will run its course
Your vision should never be hell

In the stillness of silence
My breath will overcome
Soothing the wounded wings
My strength will take you home

The Great Plains of Kansas

For too long it seems
I've been lost in suspension
Like a dandilion
Blown across a rolling plain
The placid visage
Keeps getting to my head
Yet together we float
Dotting the sky like tiny angels

Destination unsure
Expectation was our place of birth
Light hitting every hair
With the wind pulling us skyward

Caught in the currents
Presumption mixed with passion
Musing forever onward it seems
Never content with the atmospheric home

Unless a seed falls to the ground and dies
It will never live

Agrippa's Indictment

There will be no moral outcry without the shedding of blood. The weapons of our warfare are not of this earth but they are powerful to tear down strongholds, taking every thought captive to Christ and tearing down every single high and lofty argument that sets itself against the knowledge of God. Unicef has left thousands in its wake as casualty counts grow amidst the differing of opinions and the mad lib constitution declaring peace. Much dreaming and many words are meaningless, empty, worthless, hollow, dead, obsolete, and fluff at best. Candy coated frivolities trickles down the ear canals as arousal beats down the eyes into subconscious euphoric ideology. We see the corpses as channels turn highlighting another reason why Zoloft prescriptions need to be refilled.
The bottle will be empty and the words will be tested. In the beginning was the WORD and the WORD was with God and the WORD was God. The WORD became flesh and the shouts from His blood rings out through every drop of rain, in every corpuscle of sand, of every tear, and every breath that is breathed. To and fro the hearts of kings are shifted as the lofty are dethroned. Who can build an empire? Who can create breath? Who can tactfully navigate the synapses firing in the brain? Acknowledgement has long been deferred to science, greatness is only as far as the Aryan race they say, once said but people keep looking for other examples and we may just be one more dead child away from finding the answer.

No one is righteous, not one. Far less than two or three and beyond the accomplishment of one righteous man. What can righteousness gain. What flaw can construct the perfect society without trampling the destitute or running from house to house with a noose looking for a scapegoat. Divine providence answers this question as homes and brothels are washed away in the wake of a tsunami.
As if the mortal can control the tide and a thousand butterflies beating there wings simultaneously will accomplish nothing if a voice cries out “Be Still!” So speak of worthiness. So speak of magnitude as the blood of the weak drip down your ever so nicely chiseled chin. I mean let us speak honestly, when was the last time one was born without inflicting pain and taking utter delight in the suffering of the so very worthy recipient.
Bel stoops down and Nebo falls low off of the carts along with the iPods and plasma screen televisions. All will become plunder and all will become dust. Which empire is that which will rise above entropy? Who commands the skies even now or paints the sunrise or sunset, even through the smog the radiant light bursts through the combustion of meager convenience. Trailer park trophy wives and wall streets window shades become the talk of the town as both collect dust with fervor.
As if within the confines of a conscious thought or originated idea can peace be spawned. Jump out of the hummer sporting Che on your shirt and write your manifesto in the crimson of there own blood they will fleet away to nothing. Communism brought us nothing more than 10,000,000 more graves, isolation, and a fourth Rocky flick, is the the epoch of man? Some sort of hope because like the drunk uncle in the corner is the knowledge that we cannot do anything on our own.

There is one who sees every tear that hits the ground the one who declares Himself to be the Father of the fatherless and the defender of widows in His holy habitation. Who judges the deeds of man and who holds the seas within the span of His hand. There is one who will wear crimson once again as He redeems for His sake those who have cried out for the salvation. The is one kingdom that will overcome and there is one who will avenge and it is His to repay. “Vengeance is Mine!” Thus sayith the LORD. He reigns from on High and His is the kingdom not made by human hands. The whirlwind will come and judge the hearts of man in a sieve and there will be a mess on the threshing floor. Blood will be shed as teeth are gnashed against there Creator.
What becomes of this vindictive Man? As if the great fascists could serve as counterparts as this appropriation of violence. By no means. God is LOVE. God is meekness and humble. God is the sustainer of life and is good to all. He cries out for those to enter into the kingdom of peace yet ears are shut and opinions are elevated.
A wise man heeds direction yet a fool delights in airing his own opinion so take heed all who pine after another manifesto. There is no Tyler Durden, he was all in your mind and will pass away just like the millions of other pipe dreams that spawn for ubiquitous iniquity. A high and lofty opinion will do nothing to alleviate the vendetta we all have. There is one vendetta higher than our own and it stands firm in the heaven shining forth the brightness and splendor of holiness. There is one who made for love and who was scorned. There is one who gave breath and is spat upon. There is one who bled and is parodied.

What is man that God is mindful of him? This goes beyond rhetorical but every answer holds its own gain and thoughts. There is nothing to marvel at except for the volumes of self righteous and inflated thought. Upon the dusty shelves of law offices spawn the decisions for why people do what they do and why AIDs is spreading through Africa and even why compromise becomes the best blanket unless someone happens to be a bigger spender. Yet there is a law that stands in heaven.
It stands firm assaulting every offender as guilty of high treason and shines as anarchy breeds under the guise of civilization and social contracts. Yet it is pure and all will fade away save for that which is found in the law and that which has been redeemed by such. The fruit was eaten and the tower’s foundations were in fact laid. The plans of man will be laid barren as the spiral into utter deprivation of that which they were knit together for. Sheep go to heaven and goats go to hell but all we end up wanting is a girl with a short skirt and a long jacket. We have built our religions and built them bigger by widening the corridors and adding more lanes. Yet in the previous statement all that stands out for the most part is the fact that I (the writer) is or at one time was a Cake fan.

Oh but to speak of love with utter joy and full blown exuberance. Beyond the confines of the most articulated sonnet breathed from the pen of the greatest writers of all time heralds that which is solace love and beauty. A regal joy holds attention as the thousand monkeys on a thousand typewriters concoct nonsense that which was done goes thoroughly through the gate of incoherent babble to that of awe filled silence enveloped in mysterious light and color surpassing visions the temporal can even fathom. This is love. The uncreated on a rugged piece of would; held onto a thing in which He held together with the word of His own power and created good. Bearing the full cup of wrath for His enemies to bring them into utter pleasure and euphoria, that day calling forth the condemned to join Him in Paradise.
Awaken you kings and awaken you peasants. Proletariat and Bourgeois alike this is your redemption. There is a king who will come and reign. The lines are being drawn between territories just as His hands drew in the sand whilst forgiving a harlot. Do not rage against the mercy for wrath will be poured out and blood will be avenged. Under the Scarlet fountain sins are atoned for and the sinful nature is dashed like pottery. His blood will cover all including the prominent “A” we all wear. Jealousy is a husbands fury and the drops of a bucket are about as much regard as the fortunes of men. It will fall. Advancement goes beyond petty servitude. Humility paves the path letting the only righteous one be judge and jury. Your heroes will all be dead yet there is one who is alive. Who can trust man who has but a breath in his nostrils.
Beyond manifesto and beyond writ the kingdom moves forth the Father of lights who sustains His children. The vapor of all that is done under the sun will flee away as soon as He splits the skies yet He knows every sparrow that falls to the ground how much more will He avenge, uplift, uphold, and bless His children. He is love. He created laughter and song and still is opposed. In His presence is fullness of joy. His adversaries will quake at His presence and He will come with the shout of the archangel. Look to the sky heed the warning. The shadow is coming. The shadow is coming. The WORD became flesh and will break out of the cliché He has been made.

Night will be no more.
There will be no more tears.
There will be no more death.
The increase of His government and peace will know no end.
Their worm will not die out.

See how I dance
On the embers of the mighty
The absence of breath
An all fades away
To what do I owe this pleasure
The pomposity of your empire
As I spin and dance
Amidst the moths sent from above
Futility falls within your ranks
As bloodshot eyes
Evelope perplexity
Who can straighten that which I made crooked
The poignant path was not discovered by you
Tremble before My throne
You frivolous kingdoms
The spendthrift armies march forth
Salvation they do not bring
The more that is built
The brighter the fire will burn
Refinement lies undermeath my every syllable
May gold remain
For the ashes of stubble will linger among the moths

Some Words

A petrified example of a modern conundrum lies within a slue of countless epitaphs. The statistics continue to pile up until you have books. After books we progress onto volumes. Box sets and collectors editions as well; sold at a bargain price in order to collect dust in a library as the owner totes their ownership in sophisticated conversation propping their ego among their peers. Hard copies are so wonderful to get hold of. The numbers pile up as the kill count rises. The news at ten will show it unless you happen to catch the nineteen commercials during the Simpsons, that way you can know before anyone else and let concern wrought your face. Nameless and faceless, yet they demand our attention ever so much. Maybe it is a comfort that we are alive, perhaps it is a dulling contentment knowing that not all the bad things in the world happen to us, and to others it is a tragedy quickly remedied by Friends re-runs and a case of Diet Coke®.
What have we become? Has blood become so dispensable that if a death is not gruesome enough then it isn’t worth any attention. The streets are littered with our malcontent as well as posters and pop up ads alike. The frivolity of humanity dances along in a Meow Mix commercial with all the subtlety of moss in a redwood forest. Yet onward we move. Life goes on a grief is ignored as weakness and the cycle begins anew. This is a society far detached from its own existence. We are made to feed. Born, bred and raised to consume to fix that pain that gnaws away, anything to make the voices stop and anything to bring a little bit of solace.
This isn’t to say that it is a new thing but lets be honest for a second, when have we had so many numbing agents so rapidly available for our consumption. We move on with the sands of time ignoring history while brashly stating, “Those who forget history are condemned to repeat it.” What is there to offer anymore? What is there to gain in the never ending hierarchy of thought, conjecture, promise, and delight? There is nothing new under the sun as with a single bullet or a single car wreck all that was ever gained perishes if not moves down to the descendents.
Branching out into the insipid the disdain of actuality strikes the masses as nonsense where inside is there birthing a hope that somehow inside there can be a breech of duality in which we all have our own secret Tyler Durden. Of course there is no contentment, we have no knowledge of what being is. We have come to a place in which we do and we perceive what we can and go from past assumptions scraping by to find their due. We grow up as victims there has to be some way to get vindication. Years of mistreatment and pain squelched into a malaise of bitterness begins to seep inside. We are owed something right, where is the justice. Thirty-three dead, this is the triumph of the will. What is consequence and what is justice? Who even has language anymore holding a line of obscurity demanding the line be held with utter fervor.
The hangman is calling and the law is becoming a thing of the past. Presumption courses through the veins of the obsolete yet one thing betas true, we can achieve nothing. Who can straighten that which God has made crooked and who can fix that which God has bent. Given over to the divine hammer we become formed and fashioned after our own liking. He is the potter and we are the clay. The brittle and the cracked have melded together into a defiant cry for certainty.
There is one. Only one man who can bring justice. He saw and was displeased that there was no justice. He made the rebels for a kingdom not made by human hands, one filled with joy, peace, wholeness, and tranquility. Yet they rage in ignorance and in full knowledge. Apart from this kingdom there is only death and obsoletion. From His throne flows a river which brings life to that which is dead and whose trees bear the fruit of life and whose leaves hold healing for the nations. At this throne does the justice flow and from none other. The foundation of this throne are righteousness and justice and from it floes mercy like a raging torrent.
Speak of revolution and I will show you 10 million dead alongside the grave of Che Guevara. This is no revolution, this is a siege. A clash of empires vying for dominance. The two will be revealed and death and Hades will follow. Marching into some glorious sunset will decadence burn up.
Wisdom and truth call forth with the violence of love calling the vile to enter into their home. Invisibility warps the mindset as fear has come as a proper diet for far too long now. The kingdom advances and the violent take it by force. Yet ignored goes forth the orgy of defiance. Heaven calls forth as voices begin to pipe up. Negotiations were thrown out the window years ago as Death was nailed to a rugged piece of wood. Lines drawn in the sand are no being redone in wet concrete and an era begins to dawn. The kingdom of heaven breathes life and rest onto its warriors hidden in the cleft of love. The battle will soon break out from skirmish and a highway will be paved with blood. They will overcome by the blood of the Lamb and the word of their testimony loving their lives not unto death. Joy is their strength and life is the product. Fear has died in their eyes as boldness grips the depths of compassion.
There will be a day when there is no pain. There will be a day when sorrow will cease. There will be a day when no longer war will be studied. There will be a day in which the child plays with the cobra and the lion lays with the lamb. There will be a day of peace. There is only one who is righteous and there is only one who is worthy to open the scroll. It will be opened and lawlessness shall end. The increase of His government and peace shall know no end from ocean floor to distant stars. Cling to hope for redemption draws nigh, let us lay aside the vices of the contemporary and put to death the cocaine of humanism and enter fully into His glorious love and through abundance of joyously given grace enter into the life wrapped deep inside the jubilant dance of the Triune song. Put to death the former things and enter into the glorious dawn of the new day. Christ is the only way.

An Oboservation

So I just finished watching Blood Diamond. Good movie I thought. I have various and estranged thoughts, feelings and opinions regarding it but I only feel compelled to leave one. The entire movie was to depict the horrors and the atrocity of mankind in Africa. It evoked the grief and terror of merciless bloodshed, violence, destruction and devastion of human life for personal and vain gainings. Prior to the feature there was a preview for the video game based on the movie 300 in which you the participant hack and slash your way to a gruesome victory letting your main accomplishment be the heap of bodies in your wake. Amidst all of the sentiment and attempts to grab at our heartstrings to bring justice to a fallen and maimed world there is nothing sheer exposure will permanantly bring. The world is spinning in its own circles. No one has an army to intervene, the UN is worthless, the US is tied up in its other obligations and as soon as we would entire the nation within 3 weeks the war would be protested by the same people who demanded they be sent. As Darfur was rocked for there was nothing brought. No peace, nothing. Is there any settlement now. Has Rwanda become a haven of utopian conquest. No. What are opinions and what are thoughts. Amidst words there is nothing but rhetoric and empty dreams. The masses come demanding food and drink yet the only true answer is to eat the flesh and to drink the blood of Christ. We have our movements. Let Bono seel all he has to give it to the poor to only let them purchase weapons and then continue to feed off of each other. Lets drop food and feed egos letting us know that we who are good, who have been blessed with a greater and higher moral authority, who know better than anyone else, by mere providence are the sole salvation for these pity cases that demand our all (by all I mean our two cents both literal and metaphorically speaking). There is a crisis. Yet how can we as a culture mitigate that which we have no grid for and at the same time still posess the depths of wickedness we are trying to squelch. Do we therefore abandon hope and drop what we do, by no means. Do we cut aid and pull back, no. To we hide to be enveloped in ignorrance, of course not. We, I say we as Christians, are to go before the throne and command the kingdom to come. The kingdom yearns to go forth and take the land with violence. Through intercession, mercy deeds, and the release of the Gospel can any true change can happen. I mean within the entire war torn continent the only real change for good is being done by men and women like Rolland and Heidi Baker. Not only are people the problem but so are principalities and demons. We need God. I sit here kind of stunned and left with a sleu of thoughts regarding the recent release of movies like this. I mean for me personally I take it as an oppurtunity to see the world around me because the scant news articles I occassionally peruse really don't paint that great of a picture. Yet I am left worried. Americans love entertainment and we love sentiment. We love to boldly go forth and parade a cause. It is like a fad. Trapped within our suburban landscapes many march for declaring truth, justice, and problems. However, there is a day coming where every prop will be knocked away and even those in mansions will manifest the truth of their humanity, which is wickedness. There is none righteous but God. He loves righteousness and hates wickedness. Apart from His sight there is only flaw and evil. In the ever growing world community we need sentiment to begin to wilt and true compassion to take its place.

Melvis and Me and a Damme Too (The Great Ohio Excursion)

2 days. 24 hours in a van. 1,400 miles.

*Friday 6 am me and my brother Josh (Melvis, Captain M, the Captain) embarked to take him to meet up with YWAM's GX international team in Continental Ohio.

*Our escapades went forth with the commanding ballads of the singer/songwriter Raffi including: Banaphone, Michael Row Your Boat Ashore, C-A-N-A-D-A, Got to Sing, Who Built the Ark and one of my all time favorites Shake Your Sillies Out. We were pretty bummed that we couldn't get some of his others like This Little Light of Mine, Baby Beluga, or especially Down By the Bay. It was grand none the less.

*Moving on we went through other such greats as ELO, Blue States, some Canned Heat, and other estranged music such as the delightful Mickey Finn. Its not a real trip until your vehicle sounds like a 1930s speakeasy. Some good times. We discovered some marvelous places. Our number two favorite was Gas City in Indianna. I mean who wouldn't want to live there. Shoot we nearly stopped in the Taco Bell there. So As you roll your eyes at the wonderful sophmoric humor let me tell you my favorite new town: Effingham, Illinois. I mean seriously, just say it a couple of times. And yes it is a real place, with its own fairgrounds and everything.

*For any Sufjan fans not only did we see road signs for Chicago but also Decatur. We passed Carlyle Lake and crossed the Kaskaskia River.

*Like every great trip we packed some great food. Amidst the green tea, fruit chips, cookies, and sandwiches there was one thing that we pretty much stuck with, a five lb bag of Gummy Bears. Yeah, that is alot. I mean five pounds. After about two and a half lbs we just got sick of it. We ended up just throwing it out the window hoping for bears to grow. We had both Grizzly and Polar varieties and they should be full grown by late August.

*Indianna and Ohio are very boring states. I mean sheesh, wow. It was so painfully long driving through them. It was like "Ah-ing" for hours without a single "Choo." That and I think I found a city with worse roads than KC, Indiannapolis. Yikes it was confusing. I mean if you like the country and nothing around I guess it would be a cool place to be but, I have to pass.

*On our way to Continental, which is a small town in rural Ohio, the Captain and I were pretty antsy. It had been about 11 hours in the car and the back country roads were getting to us. It was wierd, next to every other farmstead was a nice personallized pond. I mean nice clear water, nicely set boundaries and lovely tractors in the distance, some good times. So in the spirit of the land we were kind of hoping for a sheriff to cross our path. I mean we wanted to be chased. I mean plowin through hay bales kind of chased. We foud some banjo music and cranked it in the van and went a lookin'. Granted had we seen one we would have slowed down, just due to time contraints but seriously, I never was a Dukes fan but something in us just wanted a chase.

*So we got to Continental High School, home of the Pirates, while blasting some banjo music with the windows down and met up with Darren who happened to join us out there. We went inside and watched the presentation. It was really good. I mean there was skating, dancing and some really good testimonies. Honestly, it was really good to get outside of the bubble, I mean really good. It made me miss doing youth ministry, its been about 4 years since I have done any. At the end there was a huge response, alot of people came up and got saved. Funny thing is that as soon as the altar call was given Darren and I instinctively just started going at it in tongues. Good times.

*I am really excited to have my bro do this, I mean he doesn't really go to churhc but he loves God. That and it was really rad funny seeing the people flock to the presenters who they were so impressed with. I joined in and got my buddy Mickael Santillian's autograph on my hand. He is 5foot nothing and 14 and I give him a ride home about once a week with my bro. He was taken back, Darren even got a dollar signed.

*Darren and I then ventured to the Comfort in about an hour away and we crashed for the night enjoying some pizza and recanting tales of the previous week. It left me jonesing really bad, I mean bad. I need to get back east, see the outer banks and just get some Bojangles chicken, its been years.... I miss it.

*The next morning he left and then I headed back home. 11 hours in the car by myself were good. I ended up listening to a bunch of music I hadn't really listened to in a good long time including Blindside, Mae, the Insyderz, Maylene and Calibretto. Not to mention some good old fashioned Bob Dylan. Also I jammed out to some sermons from TACF. Interesting thing is that as soon as Ed Piorek (one of those preaching) started talking about getting lost in the river of God I drove across the Mississippi, it was a good visual. It was a good time. I mean God and I had some really good talks. 11 hours and 15 bottles of green tea later I finally made it home.

*It was a long two days. But good I would have to say it was good. This has by far been one of the most peculiar spring breaks I have ever had.

Intro for the Next Little Red Book

All hat are left are caricatures of dreams that once lived. They fly through the air whimsically asking for the owners to join them there. What is there left to pursue? Anything of conquest or grandeur seems to be a blowin’ in the wind as pomposity sinks to record lows. Nothing more than marketing agents are left selling products and namely themselves, always cutting the best deal for the most compatible of cliental. What is left? Are there words? Are there songs? Sure we can rehash a few feelings, throw in a couple new scenarios, campaign for a cause which will ultimately go ignored as the world continues to turn.
Truth cries out in the streets for an open ear. Ears not plugged by headphones and Apple devices are clogged with opinion and jargon that even the one who spews it is not even sure of. To use vocabulary for such dubious gain, enjoying the accomplishment of using something new and exciting where even the painful expression of Homer Simpson has been immortalized within our hallowed vestibules. Like a pen tickling an ear so go forth the droning of the resources at the skeletal fingertips of the ever advancing megalopolis.
Left with nothing but bytes identity has been erased without a glance. From the big yellow bird to the kid with his pie we embrace one another with the conquest of the familiar roads. Voices in an endless supply on play lists churning through cognition that flickers like a dying light bulb. It is clearly dying yet it is lauded for its uniqueness and nonconformity letting the sputtering hum chide in with the volumes of public opinion. Sure it isn’t glamorous but may the glamorous be damned. For too long has propriety held down the visage that has berated this people long enough like the crack of a slave master’s whip. Decadence pours forth as splendor as the grunge cried out “Rape Me” and the children of years later join the parades that make Tim Burton seem like Mr. Rogers.
Yet we are left with the pedestals. An inward spiral of a food chain that preys on that which is weak and nullifies pain as an identity or as a gift of attention. Daddy’s little girl grows up to be all she ever wanted. Writing songs of heartache and glamour as she bares all in magazines inviting thousands to rape their minds. Words scream for meaning as “love” has been torn down to just another empty orgasm crushing the innocence of a naïve child. The seal is broken and the ache pours forth. Confusion fuels animosity as the vacuum perpetuates nothing but verbose lies and pimped out rides. Even those who despise the culture cannot live without it.
Opinions run like wildfire consuming all sense of cohesiveness. Millions march against that which they do not parading a cause that gets them attention. Vengeance lies in the heart of the masses as injustice continues to gnaw away at their lifestyle. Spanning all scopes of social class, the bourgeois and proletariat alike sink there claws deep within themselves as they do each other. A vendetta will come as the wheel is being spun to select next year’s scapegoat.
Lenin has been long dead. As has Lennon, but his message was at least catchy so it sticks around today. The banners of yesteryear have been traded in for blogs and home movies. Wayne and Garth would be proud, but frankly they were a joke to begin with. Pomposity and Novocain are sold side by side with Mountain Dew in vending machines; there is no Yellow Five which makes it less of a hazard. Society has now been left vapid. With an empire of crutches that would even make the Big Bad Wolf laugh. There will be a huff and there will be a puff.
Truth cries out and will be heard. Awaken my friends from the inebriation of the status quo and rise beyond the noise of the neon signs and personal dating ads. Truth runs up and down the streets looking for a friend in her time of agony and loneliness. In her is the wellspring of Life, a radiant kingdom paved by the blood of its humble and tender King. Blood alone turns the wheels of history and the kingdoms of the earth will become the Kingdom of our Lord. Truth will lay waste to every crutch holding up only those who have answered her ringing call.
Amidst concubines and gardens, conquests and riches, wisdom and folly there was only vanity. In a time where even that which is concrete becomes a platform of change and interpretation how much more is there vanity. He calls to pull out the IV line and feel. Awaken to that which is real and be long in the affection and groaning of heaven. He is the only physician. Escapism leads only to a catatonic state rot with cynicism and bitterness. Truth rings out and may her friends make her known, only that which is known may be trumpeted. This tree is sweet to the taste but amidst many counterfeits may she be solely feasted on.

Residue of a Lucid Thought

As a dawn melds into the burning haze of dusk I come before this time and place with nothing to offer you except that which beats fervently deep inside me. Unto your mighty and glorious face I lift up that which has been breaking for what seems an eternity pass. Succumbing once again to this unobtrusive medium of solitary composition I feel the breaking begin to ensue. As the words dance around me in lucid symphony the brilliant hope pierces my soul separating light and shade. Of cataclysm and memorials twilight lay far in the background as almost chapter turns seem eminent. Your mercy moves through me like the silhouette of words long spoken ago. Truth echoes from the streets looking for just a friend and by happenchance few have inclined there ear. Each letter the silver lining of infinitude unlocking a chasm deep of joy and mystery laced with the sting of agony. Before time they stand still spoken to embrace the one who ventured in the garden. So speak words and calloused tones the light pours forth out of Your radiant lips washing over the fledgling youth as with each loose end you play my heart strings and move from dirge to waltz to symphony and back again. Lost amidst the frailty of misconception we drift along hearts laid bare before Your gentle hands. Destiny commands within the sheltered minds as You even now survey your promised land. Without regret fearing remorse I fall into Your arms the delicate balance of safety and affection in the tears of confusion and ache. You surround your people and whisper through the skeletons each word wrapping tightly around the brittle bringing new life to that which has fallen away to despair. Dusk comes yet all that is left an unsettling. Heart in Your hands and a breaking most emanate. The angels dance through the movements of the tears and planets alike each one you cherish like a Father over His beloved children. The times and seasons seem useless as the one who changes them continues to remain aloof. I pine for your touch and your breath to consume just one second of this haggard pursuit. In tenderness you look down peering deep into the well of my gaze drawing deep the water that He once poured. The bubble out into tears washing over that which for so long holds a scrutinizing reign. Fists broken from beating the wall and tongue dry from years of rhetoric He calls out to rest.
“Rest in My arms and partake of My table, Oh my child whom I delight. Your heart beats into the night and each palpitation wraps around the inferno that burns deep within mine. Come behold the pouring of weakness as disdain trickle from immature cravings. Each tear flows into my heart covering the depths of each chamber as I long to make all things new. In the broken places I have found you faithful My friend in whom I am utterly ravished over. The day will come when the words will ring true as the Word becomes flesh and absorbs every ounce of your precious frame. A wedding is planned and a day of gladness will come, in the meantime find your solace in me.”
Galaxies spawn overhead lapping up the cosmos in an array of supernovas and black holes. The trees clap in the wind as You suspend even plastic bags in flight. The foundation of jubilation to be laid from Zion into the halls of the courageous and uncertain alike. You breathe your breath with burning flooding the absolute with that which is beyond comprehension. The words continue to dance through me as chapters unfold and homesickness grows. Oh to be of another age to see the land that stretches afar and behold the King in His beauty. Thoughts will ponder the former terror as hope arises from the ashes of His wonderful creation. Even the weak shall become luminous as justice will be poured forth. What is man that you are mindful of Him that blood screams from the dust a victory cry over the broken body of Death. Beauty will arise in due time as rotations begin to plod onward. Yet I cry from this place of humanity, “Oh to know love and to know Christ. To live beyond words and fractured feelings. To drink deep of the vats of the goodness of God and the pleasure of the joyous Son. My Father in heaven Holy is your name I praise and bless You. Oh to drift into the sea of reality to be lost in that which awakens the dead. You have not forgotten me or any of your children, I pray that I would see your face.”

Hillbilly Hunting

So I am going to the woods by myself for a couple of days. Looking for God, solace, and contemplative stuff. I am going hopefully in utter silence. I will be in the middle of nowhere, if you wanna throw out a prayer for me I will greatly appreciate it. Anyhoo..... thats all be thoroughly blessed!!

It Must Be Beautiful

What was dim becomes clear
With a dulcid roar
And a hint of sunshine
Like the meadows of spring
The wind is caught in its untimely dance
With a voice in the distance
Warming the uncertainty
Hope rises through semi poetic thought
A new day awakens as will another tomorrow
Destiny collides with destiny
Letting the uncreated one marvel
At the work of His glorious ways
Nothing is forgotten
Say for released sin
Wholeness grabs us by the hand
Linking a people to the radiant homeland
At the end of the yellow brick road
Gold and cinders glowing beneath our feet
With a heavy sigh we move on certain He hears
With a heavy sigh He longs for the day
Which every tear is gone and there is no sorrow
Songs will be sung with great joy
Symphonies and ska will fill the air
As a mighty chorus pulls us through the bog

Journally Nonsense

I don't really know why I am writing, just something I felt like I need to do. To be honest I stare at the screen hoping that by some miraculous way that questions I have will be answered, solace will be gained, and that someway somehow there would arise through these many words some peace and comfort would be gained. Its interesting the way the mind wanders. Honestly I am not posting really for any of my four readers but really just for myself. Looking back the past month I can do nothing but say that God is good and that He is faithful. His gentleness and provision have far supassed anything I have attempted to conceive. It's not good for man to be alone. It isn't and man let me tell you, after years of living in haunting isolation and obscurity it is so good to have friends to run with. Honestly, I mean from the depth of my heart my friends are so dear to me and yeah.... I'd say more but I have honestly no words or attention to do so. Shoot I still want to be in love hardcore and everything, but shoot, who doesn't to a degree. I mean right now I stand with contentment with what I have smiling at God with a big goofy grin, He returns it with an even bigger one. God is good and prayers have been answered. Shoot I kind of am getting a picture of why I am alive and the fruit of God's redeemingand healing work. I mean we need to know the Father and we need to know love. We need dignity, security, direction, and identity from the one who made us. I guess it kind of is the more manly compatable view to what the Bridegroom offers, I mean don't get me wrong there are probably a million theologically wrong things with that statement but it is kind of how I see it now. I mean shoot we are a broken orphaned people raised by a glowing box. There is ache and a void which only He can fill. You can't give answers unless you have the answer in living breathing moving wonderment in you. Processes can be a pain but God is good.

So if you are still reading, I assume you are one of my beloved comrades. Meaning you are amazing and just all in all spectacular. Be blessed. I mean seriously ask God to bless you right now, that'd cool. I mean the prayer of Jabez did make it into the Bible..... anyway, I need sleep. Peace out!