Tuesday, January 31, 2012

A Post Among Poems

Greetings readers.

I am aware of the unfortunate distance between posts. I used to be able to post twice, maybe three times per week, but a new semester of college is underway and my patterns have been disrupted. Of course I'm working to re-adapt myself and get to writing. There are a total of three things I have to put into action in order to write. My brain, my fingers, and my heart. Brain, because it keeps me somewhat organized. Plans, goals, and focus all have to originate from my thinking-organ. Fingers, because even if I plan and set goals, that doesn't mean I'll follow through and actually do what I intend to. Countless are the crumpled pages filled with lost thoughts, unfinished poetry, and incomplete homework assignments. Last of all is my heart, but in a way, it is the first of all three. My brain and fingers have to be reset and commanded to do what I want them to accomplish. My heart though, it never leaves the page. It always longs to write, create, and express.

So here I am, all three elements in play, in the Mill, in a good semi-melancholy mood from Blue October's "My Never". The poetry-post before this one, "Issues" tells of an extraordinary fit of anxious half-angry restlessness. I suffer from similar instances often, sometimes from my own procrastination or apathy. When overwhelmed with homework I feel a lot of remorse and get upset that I even have to be doing the menial assignments that I see no immediate benefit from. The upset feelings swell and grow and eventually I get too worked up to even focus on the assignment or anything for that matter. I think I kicked one of my shoes across the room, nearly hitting my precious guitar. Finally, after realizing I wouldn't get any more done on the frustrating tasks, I went to bed, where sleep was no where to be found.

In the morning, everything flooded back, like picking up where you left off on a saved video game. Worst game ever. As ungrateful as it may seem, waking up the morning is one of the more depressing things to me. Not the fact that I'm alive, but that everything has restarted again. The school. The work. The stress. Cycling and recycling over and over every day, every week. Those feelings over came me that morning while I was getting ready for the day.

I kept thinking about all the dumb things I had to accomplish that day and then I opened my phone. I have a Bible app and part of the app is to post a daily verse everyday. It was like the following:

"And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through Him." -Colossians 3:17

I don't remember if it was exactly that verse or not, but whatever the case, I felt a bit better. I handed the day over to Him and everything was okay. My first class was cancelled, and I basically finished the annoying assignment.

Things in life are typically not as bad as we imagine them to be in our minds. Its always a relief to realize that, though it oftentimes takes experiencing the negativity to acknowledge its "not-so-bad-ness".

Well I think this is the end of this post. I hope to keep writing, writing, writing. And you keep living, living, living. And like Modest Mouse says "We'll all float on alright".


Words straight from a bout of stressful panicky restlessness while trying to do homework.

What the hell am I?
Why do I fight
To not feel these feelings
At work and in the night?
When I’m restless, despite

The tired-longing for peace
In my mind
For something to finally click
So I won’t fall behind
Trampled by the daily grind
Who the hell is this?
Why does he ache?
“Just be content and calm
Shut up for Heaven’s sake
You’ll run ragged and break”

But still he dreams
And plans his escape
From this surrounding prison
In which he’s raped
By assignments, tasks, games
And there I am
Looking into a glass
Straight back at myself
The mirror’s light is cast
Between the same two faces, masked

He and I
Are often overcome
And thoughts of ending it all
Don’t seem so dumb
When under fire by Panic’s gun

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

One Year Free

A poem based on personal reflections a few days ago about an ex and the time that's passed in between I guess. Its one of those poems where an idea and words sort of take control and just exit my mind without me asking. I suddenly realize that there are words on the paper and I take the raw mental product and form it into something more understandable for others. One of my longer poems, and the writing style is a bit different than I'm used to.

One year clean
My heart no longer needs you in order to beat
There was a day I thought you were it
The one I’d finally settle down with
I think that’s the part I hate the most
I nearly let my independence become a ghost
I love how now I can’t remember your middle name
I forgot your birthday and have gone on to be sane
I threw away the remembrances of you
Even the salt and pepper shakers I promised to hold on to
All these were signs I’d broken free
From the iron chains of love you placed over me
One year sober
Deep down, I was relieved it was over
I went cold turkey and survived the pain
Forgetting you was like a passing cloud, a three month rain
I rediscovered someone else better
With whom it didn’t work, I couldn’t get her
You found yourself a lover before we ended
It pushed me over the edge, my anger vented
And yeah, you wouldn’t admit it and be true
But you were done with me, and I was sick of you
I’d rather be single forever, chasing my dreams
Than to still be with you, getting stitched into seams
“One year free”
I think to myself retrospectively
365 days have gone by
Since the two of us broke our ties
We called it quits in the coffee shop
You wore a different necklace, not the one I got
That heart shaped trinket I gave you under a golden arch
Where I had my panic attack and sobbed out my heart
I drove to Kansas City to pick you up
After waiting an entire summer with a chest sewn shut
We gave it a shot, but I’m glad its this way
Because my soul would have died, tied down one more day

Saturday, January 21, 2012


I write when I'm hurt
On the ground, in the dirt
Covered in mud, blood on my shirt
Down cast, down trodden
Spitting up thoughts, rotten

I write when I feel joy
Simple emotion from a complex boy
Who just wants to play with toys
Up beat, up in mood
Smiling bright, jokes ever crude

I cannot write when I feel nothing
An empty turkey, no stuffing
Blank faced enthused bluffing
Here in the middle I'm lost
Neither burning heat nor frozen frost

Limbo has become my home
And I can't possibly know what's real
How am I to make up my mind
When I cannot seem to feel

Monday, January 16, 2012

Wisdom. Justice. Love.

Today I just want to take a second to remember the life for which this day is dedicated to. Below are the words of a speech he gave which are also used in a Linkin Park song, "Wisdom, Justice and Love". It is one of my favorite quotes of all time and strikes at the heart of human nature.

"I come to this magnificent house of worship tonight because my conscience leaves me no other choice... A true revolution of values will lay hand on the world order and say of war, 'This way of settling differences is not just.' This business of burning human beings with napalm, of filling our nation's homes with orphans and widows, of injecting poisonous drugs of hate into the veins of peoples normally humane, of sending men home from dark and bloody battlefields physically handicapped and psychologically deranged, cannot be reconciled with wisdom, justice, and love..." -Martin Luther King Jr.

I love the climactic end that says how these evil things we do and force others into cannot be understood by elements we normally should be living by. No amount of wisdom can explain how humans are driven to commit such atrocious acts. There will never be enough worldly justice to repair the loss of loved ones and the destruction of peoples' bodies. And certainly love is not the cause for the mayhem we see around us.

Quotes like this spark a sense of revolution. It makes me want to do something about the crimes against humanity. I feel like this is what MLK would want this day to make people think about; What they can do to change the hurt around them, just as he strove to make right the wrongs committed against people. I'm reminded of a story.

One day there was a beach full of crabs washed ashore from a storm. A boy walked along the beach, tossing one crab at a time back into the ocean. The number of crustaceans were endless. A man approached the boy and scoffed him, saying that what he was doing would never make a difference. The boy silently picked up a crab and threw it back into the waters, to safety. "It made a difference for that one".

We cannot ever change everything about the world. There will always be people mistreating people or animals or the environment. What we can do is try. Where there is one person saved from oppression, a new life emerges. From that life may come other saved lives. We may never know the difference we make for someone else. And the world will not ever be perfect until the One comes to cleanse it. Until then, let us try to live every single day by wisdom, justice, and love. 

Thursday, January 12, 2012


A poem for dear Ms. Perrault who left us a week or two ago. May she rest in peace, awaiting the Lord's soon coming.

I remember you, teacher
The third one I ever had
My second grade instructor
And now I’m a grad
But those days under your teaching
Created memories in that room
The pictures were penguin-perfect
And the M&M’s were nice too
Something about the Jumble’s
Must have sparked an intrigue for words
Unraveling the mixed-up letters
To make sounds I’d never heard
On this day I’ll recall
Those past times, foggy memories,
Of little magnetic play-things
And action-packed adventure stories
For years after I moved on
We only talked in passing
Each time, a greater distance between
But we always could find ourselves laughing
I thank God I came into the ABC
A few days before your last breath
I let you know you made a difference to me
And that’s something you can’t lose, even to death
So I’ll wear black and white
Like your favorite bird, remembering you
How the pictures were penguin-perfect
And the M&M’s were nice too

Wednesday, January 11, 2012

Follow Up

This morning when I went to The Mill, I met my Finnish friend and we talked about life for awhile. Unfortunately, the credit card machine was broken and I had no cash to purchase my coffee. I thought that sucked. But after we finnished talking, I took him back to CVA (he's a senior in high school). After getting money from the ATM, I returned to the coffee shop and got my drink via cash.

Not long after publishing "Today", this morning, a man with a walker entered The Mill and approached the counter, seeking a beverage. Not meaning to listen in, but close enough to hear what was said, I discovered that the man had only a credit card to pay with. He was disappointed at the news, but sat down at a table near the windows. It didn't click at first, but finally I knew I should offer to buy him a drink, considering I had enough cash and all. But what a nerve-wracking feeling that was. I don't know why I feel so nervous and scared to talk to strangers, but this especially was difficult. It felt like a long time I sat there, but eventually......... I went to the bathroom.

After using the facilities, I paused a moment and asked God to let happen whatever would happen. I didn't know what that meant really, but I hoped it would make me do what I knew I needed to do.  As I exited the restroom, I strode right over to the man's table without missing a beat. It reminded me of what I imagine sky diving to be like. Letting go. Giving in. A beautiful falling sensation.

"Hey, I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but I heard that you didn't have cash to pay and the credit card machine is broken. I was wondering if I could buy your drink for you."

The surprise on his face was great. He smiled and declined politely.

"Well okay. *I chuckled* I was here earlier this morning and only had my card so I had to go get cash too, so I thought I'd help you out."

Again, declined, but with sincere thanks.

"Alright, if you change your mind, just let me know." We smiled and I returned to my seat, shaking like a skyscraper in an earthquake. Twas ridiculous how on edge I felt. But it was a good feeling too. After deep breaths and refocusing, I felt better. I'm not sure why I think something bad will happen if I offer to help a stranger. Just something to get over, I guess.

Maybe he had never been offered a hand before. Maybe he was so taken aback that that was the only response to be mustered. Maybe he thought I was gay, with my little scarf and asking to buy him a drink. Maybe he perceived me to be a serial killer with my dark, scientific glasses. Regardless, my offer was turned down, which solidified a concept I've pondered before.

Accepting help and such, is an important thing. I personally have issues with accepting favors and assistance from people. I don't like to have to rely on others. But what a smack in the face it is to some people when you deny them the opportunity to follow through with something they feel led to do. That is why I am working on becoming better at being open to help. Part of God inspiring us to serve others is getting to follow through with the service, rather than only offering it.

I was not in any way offended by the declination of my offer today. It felt kinda crazy. Okay, so maybe a lot crazy, but that was what I didn't like about it. I wish it would be commonplace for people to help others out like that. I wish he would have had to say "No thanks" to three people at least. It may have been more difficult to not accept the offer.

I don't have a great ending to this, but I just felt inspired to share and follow up on what I'd posted this morning. Its more evidence that God is working. Plus, it reassures me that I'm doing at least something right and going in the correct direction by putting my actions where my words are. Converting these words and ideas into a lifestyle is the next step.

Night Frights

Poetic descriptions of a couple scary-ish dreams I've had this week.

A harasser of the young, Mr. KillerMan 

Escaping punishment and out on the loose 

We chased him for vengeance, in a van 

To seek retribution for the abuse 

Haunted by things he said 

That stuck like needles in my head 

Twinges of reality lurking in the red 

Yet all the while, safe in my bed 

I saw bodies scattered across the floor 

Twitching in strained seizures 

The MathMan crawled to me from the door 

Footsteps of Evil came my way with leisure 

He approached me as I played dead 

Then I awoke, full of dread 

Seemingly unharmed in bed 

But knowing I’d never be safe in my head


Its a blustery day outside, but warm and calm within the safe walls of The Mill. Days like this feel wonderful. And that feeling is enhanced when the day has started with prayer. It has been a long time since I've begun a day with earnest God-talk. In my sleepy daze, I can tell that the prayer seems rushed, and yet in my heart, I feel the sincerity behind the incomplete thoughts and jumbled phrases. But something new happened this morning.

Without even thinking about it, I began praying for my co-workers, the people I work with at a job I hate. Especially the ones that get on my nerves. It was a great feeling. Laying out the day in advance is a relief. It takes the stress away, at least in the morning. As the day goes on, things will likely go wrong, but for now, I know that its all out of my hands now. The pressure and huge responsibilities are not mine anymore, but Someone else's. I know in my mind that I cannot do everything that needs to be done. I will fail and fall behind. I need help and something outside of myself to assist me.

Typing it all out and reading this makes it sound ideal and perfect, but it isn't. The decision every morning is usually made quickly and I end up sleeping more or taking a longer shower, subconsciously believing that these things will make me have a better day, when in fact they don't. The choices when I wake up are some of the most important ones and nearly everyday I choose wrongly. So if for a second, Reader, you think to yourself 'No prob. This is easy.', you may be mistaken. If daily prayer and surrender are not a regular habit already, it may not begin as simply as you think.

I point out the impending difficulty because I, myself, often picture things being more theatric than they truly are. Whether it be taking a test for school or saying prayers in the morning, they never turn out the way I see them in my mind. But the effectiveness and peace of mind I have isn't ever the same either. It isn't fantasy or some sort of euphoria. Its real.

I've been talking to some of my friends when I have the chance and inspiration, about God. Asking their feelings and what they think concerning Him. I've had some great talks and hope to continue. I want to change the way people view spiritual things. Rather than "super serious" and uncomfortable, I wish it to be an every day common topic. And I figure that if the things I write and think about are important and make a difference to me, I should discuss them with my friends. Especially if I hope to talk to strangers someday.

Sunday, January 8, 2012

Symptoms and Prescriptions

Life gets really boring when you aren't doing anything. Its like standing in a hot shower, totally still. You get too used to the hot and its much better to turn and move a little bit. I've been having a lot of restlessness pervade me. I've become sick of work. Sick of school. Sick of my attempts at routine. Its become a circle in which I now trudge slowly around in, wearing down the ground.

With the restlessness comes a twinge of anger. Not the anger you get when you stub your toe or when you seek vengeance. Its the anger you get when a spider lowers itself down via web in front of your face. Perhaps its more of a "pissed off" feeling. The feelings that make you upset, wondering why something has to be a certain way. Why do spiders have to be in my house? Ugh. They eat bugs, but they're annoying. Geez.

This special breed of anger combined with restlessness is what I describe as "angst". In German, "angst" means fear. I suppose it is well fitting. Fear that things around me will suck me in completely, not allowing me any room to move. Fear that I won't reach full potential or gain all the knowledge I need. Fear that I'll miss out on certain experiences if I hinder myself. Anxiety accompanies depression in the definition of "angst" as well. Often, the word is associated with rebellion and teenagers. Quite fitting once again.

There's this unexplainable thing I feel inside me and I see it in some of my friends. Some dreadfully mysterious being that is pounding to be let out. This thing that makes us uneasy and anxious. Something that causes unrest and turmoil. A feeling that makes you wanna scream in public, run around the room, or even randomly slam the keys on the yorueiprueipruaipejfioeh89ehrhr375437584rheoifnsiuabvnjdvndjkfbiau niurthiurahtj;nr;IUEHRPUIHRjodfhuH9P7H79y979799y7YUEONFJL MNDBVGSCFSFGSCGVBN,VMC.VFGHKqlxox,lsosmskjsisklamamaoidvmddddmcoxowmlksoisjf

Something like that.

In my case, I get this urgency that makes me want to go and do and be and live. My friends and I have been talking about leaving and going to Hawaii this summer for the entire summer. We all have our reasons, but I know I'd force myself to in order to leave my norm. I feel like I spend too much time talking about breaking my box and less time doing it.

So I guess I'm playing Dr. Marshall and deciding I'm sicker than usual. Not extremely contagious it seems, but not curable either. Treatments are necessary. Everyday I feel hotter with angsty fever. But it calms every time I'm outside this cycle. Moments when I'm laying under the stars. Extra seconds I take to appreciate the nature around me. Late night adventures at Wal-Mart. Walking in the rain, letting myself feel it. In those experiences I can breathe and see and feel. Really feel. Horizons open up.

I realize that those moments are what life is about. You can't live your entire life in them, but they continually call to us. Drawing us away from the vicious cycles we get ourselves into. I think Heaven is like one of those moments. Except you don't ever go back to the daily circular grind of drama, schedules, and money. So maybe angst is an awareness. An awareness of the cycled circle we all have to live in. Angst makes you hate the circle, but also acknowledges your need for it. Every time I step outside the circle, its a reminder that one day the circle will finally be erased forever and we angst-afflicted will be cured.


Wednesday, January 4, 2012

Gentle Giants Have Bad Days Too

People that know me personally discover that I'm a pretty easy going guy. At first sight, people tend to ask if I'm a football player or tell me that I should play sports. In my mind I sigh, knowing that my exterior is deceptive. Beneath the rough outside is a gooey emotional spaghetti core. A lot of people have seen that part of me. But even deeper than the romantic intellectual who feels more than he thinks sometimes, I have an angry side. There is only so much a human being can take without their will being broken.

Under heavy stress, I can feel my mind cloud and my teeth grind. Under patronization, I harbor verbally violent attacks. Under the claw of control, I scheme my escapes. When they're all combined, things can reach a boiling point. I hate who I become. Which makes me angrier. When Luke and I were younger, he knew he could push me a long ways before anything bad would happen. He felt out my limits and learned to tread lightly.

My reactions to people are different. To my mom I tend to speak impatiently and harshly. I've hit my brother on rare occasion. My friends usually get the cold shoulder. I've let off a long line curses just because I don't know what else to say in the moment. Sometimes when people don't treat me right, I feel justified in my bad feelings. A lot of times though, I think my tolerance has just been worn down and I can't keep a hold of my negativity. I don't know why there are days I wake up this way. Its like the wrong part of my brain was switched on in the morning.

And after sitting here for twenty minutes trying to think of how to conclude this, I have officially lost motivation. Damn, I feel like shit. That is all.


I’m a speck on the ground
Mere flesh in the darkness
I’ve come here to reach the Heights
Upon my back, the air is still
The slanted drive way is cold
Amidst the passing clouds
The moon looks out an atmospheric window
The stars are like peepholes
Celestial beings gaze through in wonder
In this moment of solitude
I rub shoulders with angels
I can feel the breath of demons
And above the ringing in my ears
I hear the One whisper that He is here

Late Night Driving

Lyrics to a song I wrote on the piano quite awhile ago.

I remember
That day in December
We were riding in my car
You said you were injured
But I couldn’t avenge her
We had driven pretty far
We talked about violence
The air filled with silence
So we sat there in the dark
Then I felt compliant
We’d formed an alliance
From the first time I saw sparks
And the walls
Came down
A bit
Every word
Was like
A brick
All the colors of the rainbow
Couldn’t match the beauty
Of your heart spilling out of your mouth
Telling me about your house
The house that was your home
The headlights were shining
Conversation was dying
We listened to ColdPlay sing
I thought you were crying
And you were denying
You wanted to ride the swing
And the walls
Came down
A bit
Every word
Was like
A brick
All the colors of the rainbow
Couldn’t match the beauty
Of your words spilling out of your mouth
Telling me about your house
The house that was a home
We talked about violence
The air filled with silence
So we sat there in the dark
Then I felt compliant
We’d formed an alliance
From the first time I saw sparks

Monday, January 2, 2012


This poem describes how I am on days when I just wake up wrong. No real cause for the feelings. They're just there.

I wanna close all the blinds
Pretend its raining outside
Cuz there are clouds in my mind
Things I can’t put behind
I wanna lay on my floor
Seal myself inside a door
Feel the numbness in my core
Block out the things I abhor
I wanna hear artists speak their riddles
Heal my nerves, growing brittle
Enlarge my esteem, becoming little
Sand my rough wooden heart, so whittled
I wanna trip out on vivid dreams, so placid
I’m like a junkie without any acid
These thoughts are twisted and drastic
They need time to play outside their plastic
I wanna soak in a bathtub of sorrow
Spend all the free time I’ve borrowed
To hard-reset this sleepless bizarre mode
In order to wake up normal tomorrow

Sunday, January 1, 2012

Two in the Afternoon

This poem is a bit of a continuance on the previous post about the new year. After writing it yesterday I was hit with a few lines in my head that I wrote down and they became this poem at about 3 in the morning. It has some what of an odd rhyming pattern, but if the first three lines are blended together while reading, then the last two, it works. I could have put the three lines into one, but I think stanzas like this look so much better and with my OCD, I need things to look just so. Enjoy. I hope you all had a marvelous New Years celebration.

If the world ended
At two in the afternoon
I’d consider it a good day
Since I’d be at work
And basically dead anyway
If the world stopped breathing
And the sun’s light went out
I’d find peace that day
If you’d hold my hand and heart
I’d be ready, come what may
If the world burned in judgement
And brimstone fell like tear drops
I’d endure the long day
Knowing that I had a love
Hotter than even Hell’s flames
If the world ended at midnight
The minute after eleven fifty nine
I’d make the best of that day
Hug family farewell, then gather friends
To face oblivion together, brave
There huddled in unity
Our bloodless relations perfect
Spending final seconds of the last day
With the ones we’d hold closer than family
In a contented circle, nothing more to say