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 Veintitrés 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 café 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.