Monday, 29 December 2008

Foneticlee

Mi frends sa I rite patheticlee
Mi tcher sas I rite foneticlee
Shee luks at mee simpatheticlee
I thinc I rite asstheticlee

Tuesday, 14 October 2008

Fitting In

Dammit why?
Why can man not live without,
The acceptance of others
Their love, understanding, acceptance?
Why can I not live one day
Without the determination to forever strive
For the acceptance of my friends, peers, strangers?
I see only with envy the luck of my friends,
Why when one is content must the other suffer?
Can we not live a day without hate, envy, greed?
When one is high; the other is searching, falling, questioning
I hate to be the Faller, but never stand on the soaring
Rejection, as harsh as it is, seems the only way of life
I fight each day for a goal that is useless, pointless, short,
But my mind is only capable of thinking these things
My heart prays for me to be respected, not envied,
Looked up to, not frowned upon.
We decide whether we’re willing to fight
And yet it seems involuntary.
Unwilling, I enter each day as another battle, challenge, fight,
Naked against voices that tell me so
Yet I hand them my clothes
Is it worth it?
…?
No, but I know the truth

To You, Mom

With a smile on your face,
You walked through the door,
“Mom; Dad and Christina…”
I couldn’t mutter more.
Then once you heard the news,
I saw the pain move through you,
I couldn’t even look,
I didn’t know what to do.
There were a thousand questions,
Running through my head,
Though the most terrifying of all,
“Could they actually be dead?”
But now it’s five months later,
And I remember that frightened face,
So I look back at it all,
And thank God for His love and grace!

Summer Breeze

With summer breeze
The air is full of joy
The days are light
All is right
Within the summer breeze

With fall breeze
The ground is getting hard
Frost is waiting
Hearts are fading
Within the fall breeze

With winter breeze
The water’s frozen stiff
Days are cold
Dreams grow old
Within the winter breeze

With spring breeze
The world begins to light
Plants are growing
Ideas flowing
Within the spring breeze

We Should Be More Like the Chicken

We should be more like the chicken,
Their life containing only of,
Producing, protecting, nesting.
Some may call it a simple life,
Some just call it dumb.

We should be more like the chicken,
They eat and drink and sleep all day,
As their lives just pass them by.
They will always refuse to comprehend,
And never stop trying to fly.

We should be more like the chicken,
They don’t have gay marriages,
Polluting SUV’s and Jeeps,
They don’t have corrupt governments,
They just eat and drink and sleep.

A Light in the Doorway

I’m lying in my bed
About to lose the fight
Of maintaining consciousness
But then, I see the light
It’s creeping from my doorway
Its beam right in my eye
I’m too lazy to get up
So I just lay there and sigh
Finally I gather my strength
And chuck my bedside toy
But the door just refuses it
Like a stubborn little boy
I angrily throw my shirt
Which was naively lying near
But again the door rejects it
The light becomes a sneer
I am thrown into a rampage
Hurling items with all my might
Grabbing anything within my reach
To destroy that cocky light
Exhaust settles over me
I begin to settle down
As my mind returns again
I begin to look around
I lay huddled all alone
Just lying on the floor
And all my junk is piled up
Against that stubborn door
Outwitted, I surrender
And with a giant groan
I stand to snub that stupid light
And the door shuts on its own
With a scream I open up
And slam that haughty door
Satisfied, I retire
And fall asleep upon the floor.

Lost

My silence is erupted
I’m labeled as a shy
I can’t find my balance
I look to the darkened sky
Nightmares of my past
Seep through my every thought
They mock me, reject me
Kick me till I drop
I try to hide, never
Wanting to be found
I want to find myself
Six feet underground
I need my soul to open
The lock shut round my heart
I need someone to find the key
And rip that lock apart
I don’t want it to be me
I want it all to go away
I want the peace I once had held
Why do I have to pay?
It’s a disease I never asked for
It just snuck under my skin
And now it’s taken over me
And won’t let my true self in
It won’t let my true self in.

Poetry Forms

Faith to Fear

(Diamonte)

Faith –
Dependable, resolute
Assuring, comforting, strengthening
Trust, loyalty – hate, doubt
Haunting, hurting, hindering
Terrible, sly
– Fear


Rescue

(Cinquain)

I am
Falling softly;
Unsure of where I’ll land.
But I know I need to clutch on to
My faith.


Hatching

(Tanka)

A fluttery bird,
Lands softly on her new nest,
As she gazes down,
At five bright blue eggs that are,
Shaking with prospects of life.


Seasons

(Haiku)

The leaves drifted off
The sturdy tree onto a
Forming pile of snow.

The Broken Sword of William Wallace

With a grunt from his hand
Flew the sword of his king
It soared through the sky
With a powerful swing
It flew with control
That was unknown to man
With a “whoosh” and a “thud”
And a quivering land
The silence was power
The meaning was flawless
And there sat the sword
Of William Wallace

Twenty-three


My name is Todd, I am nine years old, and I have been told twenty-three times that I am “excessively innovative”. Whatever that means! I live in a small country, in a small province, in a small city that flashes green and blue twenty-three times every Saturday at 11:11. My mother is a baker as well as the Spanish super-hero VeintitrĂ©s and my father manages money. Harshly indifferent, they manage to live their lives without any acknowledgment of me because I am not an essential part of their social lives. I have no siblings, no pets (except for the odd fly that chooses to accompany me), and no friends that I am aware of. Writing is a passion of mine that helps me to effortlessly and evasively escape from this broken down shack apartment on this broken down street that has no other kids my age. I may be “excessively innovative”, but at least my world is always exciting.

My next-door neighbor lives in house smaller then ours but not nearly as well lived-in. She drives a black convertible, which is only there for half of the year. After the snow has melted she slides into its leather seats and takes off without any luggage and does not return until six months later; no more, no less. On the days when she is home she wakes up at seven o’clock everyday to walk her pet Affenpinscher down our street until I can no longer see her around the corner. As she walks, her tight black leather boots click and clack on the sidewalk as her dark green leather coat camouflages into her surroundings. She is one of twenty-three administrators on the Board of Uzbekistan Espionage and a spy in our country. I always feel more relaxed when I cannot see her shifty convertible sitting idly on our street because I do not trust that it is not constantly watching me.

The man on our right is an inept old man who never comes out of his house. He sits by his window and fantasizes about the glory days and the life he never had. Sleeping and eating are oblivious to him as I have never seen him move from his staring point. He never moves, period. His twenty-three rabbits keep him company and escort him into his dream world. Listening intensely, I am sometimes able to hear their purrs at night and pray that one-day I would be able to look upon their beauty because it is said to be like that of a radiant angel. I have only seen his granddaughter once and that was at a cafĂ© my dad took me to for a treat. My name is Todd, I am twenty-two, and tomorrow I am marrying that inept old man’s granddaughter. I pray that one day I will be able to move past the childhood I never had and finally turn twenty-three.

God's Creation

God's creation is one of awe,
It's the most beautiful thing I ever saw,
Tiny little insects flying around,
A slimy snake slithering on the ground,
A lazy lion finally up and about,
A koala eating bamboo without a doubt,
Lord Jesus made this earth,
And it's definitely worth its worth.

God's creation is one of awe,
It's the most beautiful thing I ever saw,
The whisper of the ocean,
The palms swaying in slow motion,
The brightness of the sun,
A crab’s feet clicking on the run,
Lord Jesus made this earth,
And it's definitely worth its worth.

God's creation is one of awe,
It's the most beautiful thing I ever saw,
The mountains look almost fake,
The blueness of a lake,
The loud rumble of a waterfall,
That loud rumble echoing through a cavern wall,
Lord Jesus made this earth,
And it's definitely worth its worth.

God's creation is one of awe,
It's the most beautiful thing I ever saw,
White, black, tan, and brown,
Some are beggars, some wear crowns,
Humans are the best things God ever made,
And when we were created a price was paid,
Jesus Christ made this earth,
And it is definitely worth its worth.

Christmas Break

There is absolutely nothing to do,
I'm completely bored and insane too,
Hey, I know. I'll go outside,
For a snowball fight and then a sleigh ride.

Snowball here and snowball there,
I think one landed in my ear,
Throw and miss, and miss again,
He's thrown over a 110.

Throw, miss, jump, duck,
Wow, I've never had such luck,
Ow, he hit me in the head,
I think I'm gonna go to bed,

Maybe snowball fights just aren’t my game,
I think I'll try something a little more tame,
Sledding is where my hopes could lay,
Hey yah! I'll start that right away.

Slide and bump, and bump and slide,
This sled is taking me for quite a ride,
Ha, I’m good; they can't get me,
Ow! I never saw that tree.

I think that I will go home instead,
And lie around, then go to bed,
Cause being bored and insane,
Is a lot better than all this pain!

Blanket

Blanket, my blanket I call,
My friend, my companion,
Through winter to fall,
Who I sleep with at night,
Who I look to at fright,
Blanket, my blanket I call.

Blanket, my blanket I haul,
All over the place,
And in the mall,
Who I will take to the ball,
The best blanket for all,
Blanket, my blanket I haul.

Blanket, my blanket when tall,
Blanket, my blanket when small,
From 1 to 10,
Until I’m with grown men,
Blanket, my blanket,
The best of them all.

The Perfectionist

I’m not really a perfectionist,
Everything doesn’t have to be just right,
It’s just that when it’s not,
I can’t sleep at night,

So when I saw a piece of paper,
That’s edges weren’t straight,
I realized that for a perfectionist,
It would have been perfect bait,

But instead of snatching it up
I just walked right by it,
And I smiled in my head,
So proud of what I just did,

But when it caught my eye again,
I just couldn’t hold back,
So I ran for a pair of scissors,
And soon began to hack,

After cutting for a few minutes,
I held it up and said, “There,”
For now that curvy line,
Was a perfect square,

I was so proud of my accomplishment,
Until I realized,
That what I’d just committed,
Was what I’d just denied.

A Child’s World

I’m so confused,
I’m so confused,
I’m a child still growing,
Into a new world,
Expected to play the part,
Of mature, responsible me,
But I get so confused,
Between acting and reality,
I don’t understand,
Why I’m forced to grow up,
To act so much and be who I’m not,
Some days I’m high,
But when I hit low,
It feels I’ve hit rock,
And then gone below,
I’m just trying to help,
I’m not used to this world,
I don’t understand,
Why I can’t just live in a child’s world,
I’m so confused,
I just don’t understand.

Perfect Christmas

It’s funny how,
When it’s the holidays,
We all get in,
A little craze.
We strive and strive,
For the perfect day,
Where all is merry, joyful, and gay.
The food’s just right,
Everyone’s having fun,
The nativity scene’s out,
And the cleanings all done.
So for that one special day,
Masks are put on,
All is so perfect,
And nothing is wrong.
For this one year,
Let’s put away the niceties,
The matching sweaters,
The glowing Christmas trees.
The false smiles,
The polite chatter,
And focus on what really matters.
For this one Christmas,
Enough is enough,
Put away that “perfect Christmas”
Let’s focus on love.

I Want My Mommy

Why am I here?
Where is my mommy?
Who are these mean men shouting?
Why is daddy crying?
Where are they taking us?
What’s going on?
I want my mommy!
I am so tired but I can’t sit down,
I am so hungry but they won’t feed me,
I have an owee on my knee.
Why are they shooting?
What’s going on?
I don’t understand.
Where are all the other kids?
What are they saying?
I want my mommy!
I don’t want to take a shower.
Daddy says I have to but I don’t want to.
Why are they pushing me?
I don’t want to take a shower!
I want my mommy!
I don’t want to take my clothes off.
I don’t want to have a shower.
I don’t want obey you.
I want my mommy!
Why is everyone crying?
Daddy is holding me tight so I don’t get lost.
He is crying too.
He says everyone has to take a shower.
Why is no water coming out?
I’m so confused!
I don’t understand!
I WANT MY MOMMY!

Father

Fell my pride
Fortify my soul
Free my mind
Find my fate
Fatten my humility
Form my morals
Freshen my spirit and
Fan my fire

Comfort

My tear-stained face stares,
At God’s majestic beauty,
And I have to smile.

A Moistened Tissue

A moistened tissue,
Crumpled together,
By tears of pain;
Sometimes joy.
It holds secrets untold,
And prophecies prescribed.
It comforts,
And yet it separates.
Amidst the love there is the hatred.
Hatred for that which is right.
Hatred for games concealing fight.
It is uncommon, but gladly welcomed.
A tissue full of promises,
That one can only hope and pray,
That one day, one day,
Will come true.

Someone You Can Trust

Your world is covered in shit and dirt,
There is an omnipresent hate,
Your world is consumed by dealers and bums,
It is almost your undoubted fate.
And when I look into your eyes,
They plead for so much more,
And yet all your world can offer you,
Is to become a pimp or whore.
I look at you, you smile back,
And though no words pass between us,
You know that all I want to be,
Is someone you can trust.
I can’t help seeing your beautiful face,
Surrounded by burning flames,
Or being beaten, abused, and raped,
Until you’ll never be the same.
I just can’t let you die in this world,
And become another victim to,
A place where you never had a fighting chance,
I can’t, won’t do that to you.

God please give the strength and power,
To help me reach my goal,
Of one day through Your mighty love,
Save this young child’s soul.

Holidays are Murder

Holidays are murder
The mind begins to turn
Holidays are murder
The heart begins to burn
How can one spread love and peace?
How can one spread joy?
How can one be thankful?
When his heart’s a broken toy.
How can one have feeling?
When he’s thrown upon the floor
How can one find freedom?
When there’s so much against his door.
I plead so much with all my heart
That I’ll find peace again
That I might know the one I was
But until then, until then
I pray that I find You.

Them

I wish and wish to be one of Those,
And when I finally am,
I look around once more again,
And wish to be one of Them.

Junior High Makes You Think Too Much

Junior High makes you think too much,
It’s full of people who think as such,
Does she like him?
Will I ever fit in?
Junior high makes you think too much.

God Bless the Ignorant

God bless the ignorant
For those who want nothing else
For those who cannot find the evil truth
And do not seek it.
For those who live in bliss
Who live for their life
For those who live to survive, love, enjoy, fulfill
For those who do not care about the worries that our culture has burdened upon us
But accepted the life of simplicity.
And find joy
And find peace
God bless the serene.

Seeking Salvation

I settled on my knees at the base of a wall, my world of burdens weighing on my mind. I have come to the wall out of desperation; to seek solitude and deliverance from my burdens. I am overwhelmed with tears of exhaustion. I’m exhausted from fighting my own will, from struggling against the conflicts of my life. I am exhausted from life. I tried to ignore my cargo again and again, but it became so large I had to deal with it.

I had no intention of coming to this wall, but to it I was led. I am not one to be caught on me knees, a position of weakness and surrender, but here I am. As I struggle against my desires to run my eyes search the wall. I need some sort of answer or something to distract me from my pain. Some type of magical remedy that will free me from my own evil.

Finally, an anomaly. A brick out of place. My mind is relieved that I can dwell on something other than my sorrows so I focus in on the object. Mystically, the figure grows closer and closer to me. My eyes deceive me as the far away image seems to come to life. Finally I am able to discern what it is. As the object approaches all I can is a picture of a man. His arms are out to his side by his waist and his palms are facing me. He seems to be floating. I do not know why but I assume it is him who is controlling the picture to come closer and closer. It is a stained glass window in the wall and its vibrant colours seem to leap out at me. The image is almost at me now as it hovers above my head. Then it stops.

My eyes are captivated by its beauty and for a moment I have forgotten all the sorrows that lead me to this place. Everything about the man in the picture is majestic and dignified. His body portrays such elegance yet his face is blank. I look at it deeply, excepting some hidden wonder but I find nothing beneath his blank shallow stare. It is as though his face was cut out from a magazine and pasted onto the painting; it does not match its surroundings.

I stare at this picture with a sense of awe and wonder. Who created a beauty such as this? I wish I could meet the artist to congratulate him or her. To my amazement, as I look at the image the colours seem to become more and more vibrant, something I did not even think possible. The individual glass pieces seem to leave their holdings and float above me. They shine so much my eyes begin to hurt but I cannot look away. They float and soar and hover and… fall. In a snap the pieces collapse to the floor. Every single shard falls from its place of glory and lands in pieces on the ground. Some land in my outstretched hands that I had no recollection of reaching for. My mind forgot to realize that the shrapnel may be sharp as I encumber my hands around them to catch them. They cut deep into my calloused hands causing blood to start seeping. I do not even feel the pain as I am so mesmerized that something of such beauty could be destroyed so swiftly in front of my eyes. All that is left in the wall is a gaping hole and the outline of what used to be a masterpiece.

Distressed, my heart yearns for the pieces in my hands. Did I cause this glory to shatter? Again my mind returns to the burdens of my heart and I have forgotten the peace I had felt only moments ago. I begin to sob as guilt, shame, and anger wash over me at my own stupidity. I hate myself; a deep passionate hate. How could I be so dumb? My rage grows as each passing thought of hatred plants more and more seeds of agony into my soul. I clench my fists, forgetting the glass shards and scream in anguish. My affliction is too great, my burden too strong. I am overwhelmed and want nothing more then to through myself against the floor again and again. Why?

Before I can do anything the glare of red catches my eye. The blood from my hands is now flowing onto the ground. As I see this I can do nothing but cry. What have I become? In defeat I fall from my hardened position and just sit on the floor observing my hands. Why am I so overcome with this force? The glass from the window begins to knit with my tears and blood. Before I can question it this concoction has formed a silver mercury liquid in my palms. There are no longer any scars or gaping wounds, just this liquid replacing my blood. In front of my eyes my skin absorbs the liquid until there is no more. I am so overwhelm with exhaustion and disgust and hate and brokenness that I do not have room to question this act. I can only believe. I can feel the fluid move through my body; through my blood. From my hands to my arms to my chest it flows and I can do nothing to stop it. As it shoots up my spine a feeling so intense occurs that I cannot even describe it. It is like power and passion and peace and joy and love all rush through my body at the same time. It is overwhelming beyond compare and yet it is… comforting. It resides in my soul and exhilarates my heart but with it comes a sense of serenity. A greater peace then I have ever felt before. The burden that had almost destroyed me is lifted like a bucket from a well. It is tossed aside and replaced with a flowing, redeeming water that is indescribable. For once in my life I feel free. And then…

I blink. I open my eyes and I am once again kneeling at the emotionless wall. Shock runs through me as I try to recall what had just happened. It was real… wasn’t it? I search for the passion I had only just felt. What was going on? Then I look up to see the portrait still there. The man was the same once again, the same dignified presence and poise. He was in the same position with the same background surrounding him and yet something was completely different. My eyes are caught by his face. No longer was it the blank, expressionless face that had dwelt there before but it had been replaced by something new. It had been replaced by a countenance immersed with sorrow and pain. It contained a silent burden that forced the owner to grimace. A face I related to so intimately and could recall effortlessly. And then I remembered. I remembered the peace. I remembered the serenity. I remembered the grace.

My Christianity

We are the child begging for food;
We are the burden on your back,
Yet still you feed us.
You strengthen our souls,
Your love is what drives us on,
You’re the reason we live.
Like a single note in a melody,
We seem to forget our importance.
Instead we fight to become prominent,
To become more stable and sure.
We lost our priorities,
We lose you.
We are the sweat from your hand;
The blood in your body.
How silly; we try to satisfy
Our need to be accepted,
Our need to be under control.
We will not be content until we have complete control,
And you will not be content without all of our entity.
We are your hammer and nails;
As soon as we become content you rip us out again.
We see it as punishment,
But truly you are saving us from mediocrity.
Father do not let us become like rocks,
Lifeless, uncaring, emotionless rocks.
Knock us off our pedestals,
Kick our feet out from under us,
Until we are bowing down at your feet,
Until there is no one before you,
Until we are once again the sheep you designed us to be.

Monday, 21 April 2008

Time Shift

As a child, time speeds quickly by,
Going through the motions.
To ever stop moving,
Would be an unspeakable notion,
Everything is here and now,
Speedy are the days.
It’s hard to remember five minutes ago;
Yesterday’s a haze.
Bam, it all changes,
Livin’ life till it’s full.
Everything’s a constant blur,
Life won’t ever be dull.
Boom, there’s not enough time,
So much stuff to do.
So much to accomplish,
Time must start anew.
Bang, you’re sitting home alone,
Hours creep by like days.
It’s hard to remember five minutes ago;
Your life’s a giant haze.
You sit there rocking in your chair,
Reminiscing ‘bout the past.
You stop to dwell on one last thought,
“Did I make it all last?”

Random

Abilities
Sitting under the apple tree
A bubble pop
Water set free
It sticks on me
I’m wet

Broken

I tire from cleaning the tears from my glasses each morning
Of never wanting to get out of bed for fear of what will come
Of having new emotions that scare me so much
Of not wanting to trust my dad or my mom
I lay broken on the street
Empty, confused, starved, and waiting
I pull closer to You for I know nowhere else to go
With a noose around my neck I am pulled
But pulled closer, nonetheless
I lay broken on the street
Come heal me

Wednesday, 16 April 2008

The Past

I shed a tear for the past behind
A drop for the reminisced
My life, my loves, my being
And all that will be missed.
I shed a tear for the past behind
For all that I came from
A prayer for peace to lie within
A prayer for what’s to come.

Apathy

Apathy
Indifference
Lethargy
Passiveness
Complacency
Fear
These are the words that destroy a nation.
These are the words that crumble a kingdom.
Through these emotions, an entire religion can become extinct.
They are strong;
Stronger than threats,
Stronger than bars,
Stronger than bullets.
Every man would be unstoppable if he did not carry the weights of these words,
The weights of this world,
The weights that are thrown upon on us in a hurry, in a desperate attempt to shut down all progression.
Only when we are able to escape from under each one of these stones and conquer our oppression,
Can anything actually be accomplished.
Anything at all.
They are just rocks that grew to boulders,
They push, shove, trip, punch, kick, and surround you until you have no choice.
And then, we choose.
We choose to crumble to their power.
We choose to submit to their presence.
And we choose to convince ourselves we can’t escape.
And why not?
It takes a mountain to persevere and a crumb to surrender.
Our strength only takes us so far…
But then we can choose to seek help.
We can choose to escape their murdering grasp.
And actually succeed,
And actually accomplish,
And actually go.

8:15

The words escape his mouth to an audience of shocked silence.
They are so threatening, so demanding, so invasive.
Their hearts beat and their breath grows stale within their quivering lips.
He stands at the front, a weapon in hand, demanding through silence.
Eyes look down.
They refuse to speak, to breathe, to blink, for fear of drawing attention to themselves.
The wall-clock ticks naively, unaware of the pregnant silence around it.
No, no, no they scream inside.
A cough from the corner.
The man submits to their refusals and looks to the heavens for relief.
“Lord, thank you for letting us be here at school today…”

The Pointed Finger in the Sky

Feeling the rhythm of my feet against the ground,
Searching for the darkness in a place that can’t be found,
I scream at myself and accept the lie,
That running will escape the pointed finger in the sky.
I climb to the top of my pedestal and see,
The apathetic crowd of people below me,
They are so mundane with their simple lives,
Do they not realize they are living a lie?
But here, where the wind rips tears from my eyes,
I know I can avoid the pointed finger in the sky,
For how could I be blamed for all my evil deeds,
If I can’t see past the lies and sin that surrounds me.
For those few numb moments I can forget what I’ve done,
And leave my shit behind in piles as I run,
I gasp and pray that with each repeating beat,
The ground will dissolve and collapse under my feet.
I beg myself to trip and come crashing to my knees,
Where I can do nothing but plead for his mercies,
But no repentance comes; no hands are lifted high,
And I will never face the pointed finger in the sky.

Monday, 17 March 2008

Teach Me Your Ways, Oh Lord

Lord, please do not take away the faults of my body
But teach me to accept them.
Lord, please do not give me more possessions
But teach me to work with what you’ve given me.
Lord, please do not fix the challenges in my life
But teach me to grow from them.
Lord, please do not comfort me immediately
But teach me to come crawling to you.
Lord, please do not make me older
But teach me to use my age to your advantage.
Lord, please do not remove those who hurt me
But teach me to love them.
Lord, please do not take away my arrogance
But teach me to be humble because of it.
Lord, please do not give me serenity
But teach me to seek it through the noise.
Lord, please do not give me wisdom
But teach me to learn from my mistakes.
Lord, please do not make my life a permanent high
But teach me to persevere through the low.
Lord, these things I pray to you
From my very core
And when I start to ask for less
Lord, please give me more
Even when I am stubborn and stuck
Or complain that I am bored
Shake the dust off my idle hands
And teach me your ways, oh Lord!

Go Away

The days grow longer,
My heart grows weaker,
I give up any goals of achievement,
And focus on survival,
Only survival,
Survival to get through the day,
Get through the week,
This week will better,
No, maybe the next,
I just need to get away,
I need to make it go away,
Make everything go away,
Far away.
I struggle to live,
I struggle to wait,
I want my life to be so much more,
And settle for so much less,
I dream of days lost,
Left behind the wave,
Losing grip with the past,
I pray for the future,
I want to love,
But fall to hate,
I just need to get away,
I need to make it all go away,
Make everything go away,
Far away.
I fight for encouragement,
For strength, for support,
I fight for your love,
I hit rock,
And I fall,
Who will catch me,
I don’t know where to go,
Hide me again, again,
Under each broken plate,
I just need to get away,
I need to make it all go away,
Make everything go away,
Far away.

Sunday, 2 March 2008

Walking Along a Busy Road

I was walking along a busy road,
With a crowd forever long,
And I was right in the very middle,
Just being swept along.
But then the crowd just stopped and stood,
So I strained to my tallest height,
And there in the road stood two large signs,
One faced left; the other right.
To the right was a tattered, rotting path,
Full of vines, thorns; a tangled lot,
A path that looked like someone had forged it,
And then just left it there to rot,
But in the midst of it all,
There was a feeling inside,
A feeling of serenity and peace,
A sense of humble pride.
To the left was a glowing road,
Where there was luxury galore,
Where the path almost seemed to sparkle,
And suffering seemed no more.
But there was also a feeling here,
Full of power, greed, and lust,
A foreboding sense surrounded it;
A feeling you just couldn’t trust.
One by one the crowd around me,
Slowly trickled away,
Some ran fast and others leaped,
While some just slowly strayed.
You could tell some did not think twice;
Others were full of resistance,
But soon the mass had headed left,
Till they were mere specks in the distance.
So I gradually glanced around,
And slowly stared at the few,
People who had stood their ground,
Unsure of what to do.
The conflict was strong but short-lived,
As wisdom easily won,
And as a group we turned to the right;
Our journey had finally begun.
We stumbled through the vines and watched,
The thorns scratch through our clothes,
Until we were so cut and scraped,
We were bleeding from head to toe.
There were so many times I almost quit,
Almost threw my hands up high,
Why couldn’t I just turn around?
Why couldn’t they leave me here to die?
But something in my troubled heart,
Stopped and told me no;
I could not quit that easily,
I couldn’t just let it go.
So as a group we struggled on,
We stayed to put up a fight,
Until we saw amidst the gloom,
A bright and shining light.
As we cleared through the prickly brush,
Our mouths snapped down in awe,
We looked at each other quizzically,
Not believing what we saw.
For before us was a banquet,
Spread as far as the eye could see,
The food was in abundance,
And the drink was flowing free.
Amazed, we approached the table,
Unsure if we could eat,
But something told us it was fine,
So we gladly took a seat.
Then a mighty wind swept though us,
It was a soft and gentle kiss,
It wrapped us in its powerful arms,
Dipping us in its bliss.
Our wounds were cleared in front of us,
The blisters were removed from our feet,
This awesome power enveloped us;
A sense of being complete.
The memories of our struggles,
Were quietly washed away,
For we had reached our final goal,
And we were here to stay.

Monday, 25 February 2008

The Cove

A majestic oak reaches into the sky,
Sticking out of the water at its base,
And yet it still cannot remove,
The tears embedded on my face.
Water drips from the leaves of the oak,
Landing lightly on my hair,
And yet they cannot wash away,
My feelings of great despair.
The music of this mighty tree,
Unites in a pure, sweet hum,
And yet it cannot drown out,
My screams that are yet to come.
I sit in a world of dignified beauty,
Where a peaceful aura resides,
My family’s bond hangs in the balance,
My life;
About to collide.

For Conversation’s Sake

For Conversation’s Sake

Please don’t stand there awkwardly,
With an uncertainty written on your face,
Don’t babble on incessantly,
At an undeterminable pace,
Don’t fix your eyes on the heavens,
Nor glue your stare on me,
Don’t keep changing positions,
Or constantly shaking your knee,
Don't leave an empty silence,
But don’t be saying it all,
Don’t always talk about the crushes,
‘Bout dating boys or basketball,
Don’t keep attempting to be someone else,
Don’t insist on being fake,
Please, oh please don't do these things,
For conversation’s sake.

Practical Time

Lying in bed, barely awake,
I don’t want to start the day.
It’s too much effort to get up,
Plus it’s already nine anyway.
I’d finally get up at quarter past nine,
And take my time getting ready.
And once I’m finally presentable,
It’s practically past 10:30.
By the time I finish my breakfast,
It’s practically time for lunch,
And then it’s practically 2 o’clock,
And I’ll need something else to munch.
So then it’s practically 3 o’clock,
And my computer still hasn’t been fixed,
So then I’ll have to “work” on it,
Until its half past six.
Then I’d have to prepare my supper,
And take some time to dine,
And after all the cleaning’s done,
It’s already practically nine.
Then I’ll watch my two favourite shows,
And view the setting sun,
So by the time I finally get up,
The day will be practically done.

Relationships

Beneath each lover
There is a hater
The struggle is
To bring out the greater.

Each Solemn Droplet

My eyes wander to the window
To the scenery screaming by
Depressingly distorted
By rain falling from the sky
With each solemn droplet
Comes a feeling of despair
A gloomy thought, depression
Almost more then I can bear
My heart is full of leadened rock
As visions of my family, friends
Pass through me; separation
I just want it all to end
As each solemn droplet
Shatters on the ground
So do my hopes, my passions
I do not make a sound
As I dwell on my solitude
A figure catches my eye
A determined streak of feathers
A flash against the sky
Hovering outside my window
This figure pushes hard
Resisting, refusing
This sorrow from the stars
I can only stare intently
At it’s somewhat futile goal
It’s determination coming in
It’s strength touching my soul
As each solemn droplet
Is swept off of its wing
It falls into my open hand
Onto each tear I cling
My car keeps driving faster
The bird struggles to keep up
My heart is wrenching, tearing
Like an overflowing cup
My car is rocked into the air
And settles on the lawn
Followed by the truck I hit
The bird keeps flying on

Sunday, 24 February 2008

An Exchange

Before he drove away down the dark and
dusty street.
Before he stood there gasping with a shovel
at his feet.
Before the heavy burden dragged an imprint
through the wheat.
Before the body dropped as a lifeless
piece of meat.
A demon shreiked
A young soul counted its thirty silver pieces
And a trigger was pulled

Wednesday, 13 February 2008

A Creepy, Frustrating, Intoxicating, Honest, Suppressed Love Poem

In the spirit of Valentine's Day I have decided (against better judgement I might add) to post this poem. I wrote it about a year ago and it could quite possibly be the cheesiest poem I've ever written, but it was unavoidable. And for all of you who know me and are trying to guess who I was writing about: your wrong, so stop guessing.

I turned my head and out of the corner of my eye
I see a tiny shimmer of something passing by
To get a better glimpse I turn and look
Then there I see her; my shield is my book.
Her hair like a stream, flowing and glistening
She doesn’t notice me watching, doesn’t notice me listening
Her smile is astounding; each tooth in perfect place
There is no flaw or imperfection on her golden face.
I can’t help but smile because she is smiling too
Her diamond-like eyes see me and I don’t know what to do
So I flash her a smile; make a sly, witty joke
My heart is a sponge for her laughter, every note I soak.
I make random conversation while studying her face
Just seeing that smile makes my heart race

I know it sounds shallow, even creepy at times
But I really can’t help it; will you please be mine?

Wednesday, 6 February 2008

The Musician

The blind man taps along the street
Rap… Tap
Rap… Tap
The rhythm of his life
He walks with such confidence, such poise
As his thin white stick guides him on
His feeble commander
His leader
Yet he will never be able to see the snow
Web itself across the road

The blind man taps along the street
Rap… Tap
Rap… Tap
The rhythm of his life
Unaware, he taps a beggar sitting on the sidewalk
He passes on for it is just another obstacle
But then again so does everyone else
So does everyone else
And he will never be able to see the rain melt
Into itself on the window

The blind man taps along the street
Rap… Tap
Rap… Tap
The rhythm of his life
He carries a smile beneath his dark glasses
He swings again, again, and again
And no one seems to notice
And no one seems to mind
Yet he will never be able to dodge fog
On a cool winter’s night

A Monumental Alteration

A shift
A tiny, but monumental transition that changes your life as a whole
A snap from a whip like a quick shot of cold
A rift
A separation that opens your eyes to the parting of your ways
A thumping heartbeat like a clue to a maze
A gift
A fragment of consideration that brings you out of your gloom
A generous smile like a flower in bloom

It will find you and bind you and tear at your heart
It will display itself before you like a great work of art
It will be subtle at first then grow deeper with time
Until it has dug through your thick, ugly slime.

You will blink, and smile, and your heart will grow louder
You can accept it, embrace it, or just watch it flounder
You can choose to alter, shift, and clean up that rift
Or just quietly observe your life swiftly drift

I pray
For a shift
For an eye-opening
For a realization of how shallow we live
For an understanding of honesty between each person
For a change in perspective that allows for the humility of self
For an epiphany that alters our life’s goals and purposes
For a permanent agreement of equality
For an alteration
For a change
I pray

Wednesday, 30 January 2008

Behind the Veil

Behind every sin,
Behind every failure,
Behind every insult,
Stands a demon,
Waiting to be unleashed,
Waiting to be planted,
Waiting to grow,
Knowing that,
Behind every smile,
Behind every act of kindness,
Behind every blessing,
Stands an angel,
Waiting to be unleashed,
Waiting to be planted,
Waiting to grow,
In front of these presences there’s a veil,
It separates the world, the eternal, the finite.
Only those who can truly see,
See through this veil,
Past the pitiful human existence,
Into the spiritual realm.
And only those who truly know,
Know that we live for nothing,
But that everything is lived in this spiritual world,
That every human act is reflected by a spiritual reaction,
There is no real, purposeful Earth,
Only Earth hidden behind the veil,
That hides from our naive eyes,
To save us the burden.
It is held by those who are stronger and wiser.
But only those who truly live,
Live for that which is important,
Live for the battle of the spirits,
Live for what is right,
Live for what is hidden behind the veil.

It Is Then That We Can Soar

The essence of our entity
The reason why we’re here
Is summed up in one great purpose
A reason defined and clear
We exist for the total surrender
Of all of who we are
Without Him we are nothing
Our lives are cold and dark
In life we get distracted
By all that is to gain
We can’t figure out why it’s not working
We can’t surrender the pain
True healing comes from the intimacy
With our ever-loving Lord
No money, book, or promise
Can ever heal what has been torn
Our total dependence on the Father
Is built into our core
And when we surrender this as the way
It is then that we can soar.

Leaving Behind

I open my eyes,
Just a little to see,
Large men walking out,
I count, one, two, three.
They close the door,
And look outside,
Then they break up,
And go to hide.
An alarm goes off,
The lights are turned on,
As I turn to see,
They break into a run.
Some soldiers come out,
From their sleeping dorm,
And signal the others,
By blasting a horn.
They gather together,
And in a deep bass,
Yell, “Stop where you are!”
And begin to give chase.
But the men do not listen,
They keep running instead,
Cause they know if they stop,
They will soon be dead.
Suddenly one of the men,
Tripped on a brick,
He tried to get up,
But they were coming too quick.
He crashed to the ground,
And cried out in pain,
As the soldiers caught up,
And let the bullets rain.
In seconds he was dead,
Only another name,
Of those mass murdered,
During Hitler’s reign.

But the two other men,
Could never mend,
What had happened that day,
To their dear friend.
So instead they’d ran on,
Now two not three,
Freedom from suffering,
Was all they could see.
They ran as far as they could,
Until their faces were lined,
With tears for the things,
They were leaving behind.
One of those men,
Was my older brother,
The other, the older,
Was my grandfather.
The fallen soldier,
Was also my relation,
I will never forget him;
The second generation.
I will always wonder,
Where they could be,
But my one solemn prayer,
Is that they never, ever,
Forget about me.


This is a poem I wrote for Mrs. Wiebe's novel study that I kept for the heck of it. I promised myself that I would post all my poems, even the old ones that I'm not particularily proud of.

Leaving the Bubble

The darkness is engulfing
I reach forth and my hand hits stone
I turn around and I feel a wall
There is no light coming in
No light coming out
I am in an egg, a shell
A boundary trapping me
I feel like a newborn ready to live
But unable to sacrifice it all to attempt
My soul is wanting, but my mind is unsure
A hole is broken in my shell
Light creeps in,
I stare at the gap
It stares back at me
Wanting me, willing me
I see an open door, an open opportunity
I see potential, passion, revival
Dare I? Should I?
I approach the gap
Lifting my foot, I hesitate
I cannot bring myself to step out
The gap is waiting
Dare I? Should I?
God help me!

Saturday, 26 January 2008

Power Struggle

Life is a teeter-totter on which we balance;
Our enemies sit opposing.
Some with words, others with strength,
Both are always controlling.
Neither want to show a weakness;
They are of black and white.
They’re always struggling, always competing,
They promise a never-ending fight.
If an error is made; success by the other;
The weaker falls to defeat.
If one tries kindness and it goes ignored,
Punished, he’s slammed to his feet.
It is only when a sacrifice is shown;
A player stands out on a limb.
Only then can a deal be considered,
And a decision of peace can begin.
The two meet in the middle, their past behind,
Their passion to better is soft.
On a sturdier base, an understanding is made,
And it is then that they can jump off.

Monday, 21 January 2008

Death

Another is gone,
Another is taken.
In a single second
The lives of so many are changed.
To come to the reality
That you’ll never see them again
Is too hard.
To come out of the fantasy world
Of happiness and bliss only to realize
That they are gone forever
Is impossible.
It’s so hard to understand
The true meaning of death.
And even though others are grieving,
I can’t seem to comprehend.
I don’t want to grieve,
I don’t want it to effect,
But I’m caught in a daze.
Unable and unwanting to get it
Because to get it would be to accept it.
Why so young, why so innocent?
Why do the blameless ones perish
While the corrupted ones are released from jail?
It’s frustrating,
It’s confusing,
It’s… life.

Friday, 18 January 2008

The Final Bullet

Darkness. A raindrop falls. A gust pulls me from the ground and whips me into the air. Frightened, I fight it like an upset baby in a womb. It begins spinning me round and round, toying with my senses. Boom! A thunder strike but I cannot tell where it’s from. I know no direction. I am hit on the cheek with a bullet. Twenty, forty, a hundred bullets – each one splashing against my face. The bullets flash around me and, no matter how tight I squeeze my eyes, the light still slides through. Still, I cling for something; some sort of orientation. Some way to get out of this torrent. Another firecracker explodes near my head and knocks me with its iron force. I keep spinning, spinning, spinning. Like a car door slamming, my head is shoved into a wall. Time, time, time again. I brace for the impact as the fingers that control me swing to hammer me against the rocky barricade. It winds up and pitches me towards this fortress. But, instead of rock I feel… a warm fire. As my body attempts to absorb this comfort I am immediately pulled out again. A final crash, a final crack, and I am dropped to the ground. The storm retreats and I am left to lean on this mysterious barrier. My head is dazed from the explosion of silence and I try to come to my senses. As I try to comprehend what has just happened, a tiny piece inside of me begins to yearn for that second of comfort I had felt inside the wall. It hurts though, my head, and I’m cold. Cold leaning against the iron bricks that form this barricade; the barricade that I so desperately want to be back inside of. Franticly, I try to force myself back inside but the wall is steady, the wall is firm, the wall is fortified. My will starts to crack and that minute of comfort takes over my every thought. Why was it ever shown to me if it was to be taken away so soon? In the distance I hear a menacing crack like the bark of an infuriated mongrel. I smell burning. My hunter is returning to collect his helpless prey. My instincts fight against the wall as I try to force myself into its protection. Pain enters as I slam my hand against the solemn fortress, willing for a secret entrance to magically appear. My pounding turns to screaming. I pray. I just need to get in. Maybe someone inside will hear me and have mercy. I just need to get in. My open palm slides down the icy, apathetic wall. I just need to get in. Out of the corner of my eye I see the rain of bullets approaching impossibly fast. With a renewed vigor, I tear at the wall; praying, willing, screaming, cursing. My hands are bleeding. They are coming now. One final kick, one final punch, and I fall to the ground defeated. My body lies crooked on the floor and I sit outside of myself; my own soul deserting my body. Searing they come and unchecked they enter into my defenseless body. A hundred, two hundred, a thousand more. The final raindrop, the final bullet that will do me in, propels towards my open eye. My pupil shrinks as I surrender to this beast and accept my fate. I breathe in with the slug a second from my face. Time stops. And the wall behind me bends. With a clunk the bullet hits the iron bricks that are now encompassing me and clatters to the floor. My broken body collapses and embraces their security. Welcomes their metal encasing. Warm is beckoning, warm I will follow. I gasp and it brings darkness. But… a serene darkness.

Tuesday, 8 January 2008

A Silent Snap

The silence is a roar
Rebounding inside my head
The pulse of my temples is
A chain gang against my brain
I can feel the rhythm
As much as I try to hide from it
……Drip
……Drop
……Drip
……Drop
The anticipation of the splash is more than the sound itself
It is pounding
Again…
Again…
Again…
My body is tingling but I can ignore it
I open my eyes but the light just scratches at my pupils
Its wicked claws scrape away my eyelids
I shut them quickly to escape the assault
But somehow the claws sneak in
I try to ignore to forget to hide
Curling smaller and smaller I focus on becoming invisible
Screw it I say as I snap on the light and
Force open my eyelids
The talons surge in
And they cry;
I don’t,
They do.
I,
I need to escape.
I,
I need to get away.
Why does my body torment me so?
Dreaming against the midnight clock
I cry out
Trusting deliverance will come; and it does
Again…
Again…
Again…
Please… stop.

Friday, 4 January 2008

One Encouraging Word

All I ask for is for one word.
In a world where all I hear is mocking and insults,
Home is my haven.
Here I seek comfort and encouragement,
And all I find is more of the same.
I seek perfection, so maybe, just maybe,
I can make those around me proud.
All I ever want is a smile of approval,
Yet all I ever receive are glares of disgust.
I long to hear one word,
Just one word
One encouraging word to help me get through the day.
But in a place where insults are laughed at,
And mocking is accepted,
I find and hear no encouraging word,
To let me know that what I’m doing is good,
But it’s so easy to be unsure,
When all I want to hear is,
One
Encouraging
Word.

Thursday, 3 January 2008

Living After Midnight

After midnight the world seems to change;
The lights still shine as brightly as they did in the day
Only now they are mysterious.
The snow still crunches the same way under your shoes
Only now it is magical.
The noise that chases the day around like a younger brother
Is hiding behind the moon; playing hide-and-seek until tomorrow
And in its wake is a serenity that is incomparable.
After midnight the world seems more adventurous;
Each step now has a thought out meaning.
It is no longer just a note in a screaming melody;
It has a purpose and a reason.
Each thought is taken into perspective
And compared against the hushed glow of the sky.
The frosty chill that you rejected this morning
Now sits comfortably on your cheeks without fear of unwelcomeness.
After midnight, the roar of the traffic
Has transformed into a hum.
When a car speeds by in the distance you no longer ignore it.
You think, “What is he doing out after midnight?”
Where is he going that he must get there while everyone else is asleep?
The children have long since been tucked in.
And the adults are regretting their past and planning their future.
And the youth are succumbing to the insecurities that can only be heard
In the stillness of a dark room.
And the uncaring continue to sleep;
Totally ignorant of the beauty and mystery that is passing them by every night.
It seems so odd that something so incredible
Passes by each day only to disappear with the sounding of an alarm.
But as you sit there in that moment and accept the cold embrace of the air,
You wonder about the people below you.
And you listen to the flakes beneath you.
And you dwell on the decisions behind you.
And you dream about the paths before you.
And you look to the stars above you.
And you smile, because you have just taken advantage of something,
That everyone else has passed recklessly by.
By tomorrow your day will demand attention again
And you will be forced to follow that path of commonality.
But right now, as you are savouring it, you laugh,
Because you know that you are magically living after midnight.

Sorting Shoe Racks

With a crack of his knuckles and the rolling of his sleeves,
The boy rubs his hands together and gets down on his knees.
He grabs each innocent shoe from the defenseless rack,
And heaves them into a pile behind his slaving back.
With relentless determination they are flung into the air,
‘Till every messy shoe is seized and the closet’s bare.
With an unexpected shift, the focused boy turns around,
And begins to pick each mislaid shoe up off the startled ground.
With tender care he searches through the jumble for a twin,
Then sets the pair softly down and sneaks a tiny grin.
Minutes slowly sneaking by, the boy goes fervently on,
‘Till each wayward shoe is found; a masterpiece is drawn.
He looks down lovingly at the rack, his job here now is done,
Now he’s free to go and play; the battle has been won.
As days go by and people move, they considerately try to keep,
His perfect rack from turning into its initial cluttered heap.
It’s funny how they never caught on that their efforts were in vain,
Cause he’d just chuck them all, and sort them all, and clean them all again.