Thursday, December 30, 2010

Honestly (Regrets # 2)

When all words are your words
And all faces mine
When we have left no symptoms
Of metamorphosis
Then I dream and you drink
I bleed and you break

When all eyes are my eyes
And all laughter yours
When we empty ourselves
Of our shallowness
Then I speak and you don't listen
You cry and I stop my mouth

Wednesday, December 29, 2010


I’m walking on stained glass windows
And finding angels in dustbins
My lungs expand and contract
With the miracle that gives life to dust
In my ribcage
And every day Your blood washes the earth
Making beautiful
Beauty, You are, and You give passion
To my living every day for You
Glory, to You, Artist, Father
Praises rip from my throat
In the wake of living
Joy, so much deeper than happiness
Erupting in beauty

Tuesday, December 28, 2010

5. Learned He Obedience

But for unfairness, I would have died
I see myself at my Saviour's side
Mocking and pointing and dead in my pride
But for unfairness, I would have died

But for your loneliness, I would be lost
I could never pay all my guilt has cost
Or enter at will the heavenly host
But for your loneliness, I would be lost

Now in your living, I'm free of shame
You slayed death itself and erased me of blame
In the book of the chosen you've written my name
Now in your living, I'm free of shame

Monday, December 27, 2010

Taste, Cinnamon, Music, and Touch

This is something I wrote at a poetry workshop. If it sounds a little forced, it's because it was. It was a really good excercise though. And it was the first time I've ever had to read aloud my own poetry. Yikes.

Mysterious land of far-away
Spice of sense perception and ironic gifts
Things beneath the surface of self-consciousness
The mask level
Bow to the scraping of violin strings
In the courtyard where I danced with you
Your trembling masculine hands
Lifted to praise the blackness
Incomprehensible, but seductive
I was as baffled as you
The Far East where minarets spin
And mystics create dew drops in secret
The cinnamon melts in your mouth
And the music on your fingertips.
There a breeze creates a current
Lifting both our hearts to mythology
Not the blackness of death
But the abscence of frovolity
Our sighs wrapped up like morning glory
Moonbeam magic reads our hands

Thursday, December 23, 2010

Jungftak Manifesto

Fact: I don’t really need you to fly
I don’t need this eyelet screwed into my side
I have another wing
And it’s hindering
Fact: I don’t really need you to fly

In Persia they’re building love nests
And stripping the flesh and saving the rest
But I’m free to fly
Without you by my side
In Persia they’re building love nests

Fact: I've made it through this life alone
They think I exist only with you in my bones
And I'll build my own nest
So just give it a rest
Fact: I've made it through this life alone

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

7. Perfect Forever

More from the Hebrews project:

A veil
A gulf really
A wall before perfection
One trembles
And the rope is curled around an ankle
At the other side breathless servants
Is this enough
Is it ever enough
Will the rope go taught?
Will we even need the rope?

A body
The God-man really
A bridge to perfection
One trembles
And the nail is driven through the ankles
Round the cross, breathless women
Is this enough
Is it ever enough
Will our King now die?
Will we have any hope?

A man
A sheep really
Looking forward to things unseen
One trembles
And the immensity of this love tightens the throat
Churches fill with breathless servants
This is enough
It has always been enough
Do we deserve this?
Dare we rise from our knees?

A girl
Me really
O Lord God, you are perfection
I tremble
And your beauty surrounds my heart
On the one hand, I'm a sinner
But your grace is enough
It is enough
God, I praise you
I thank you, indeed

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

2. Taste Death For Every Man

This is part of an unfinished project I began about halfway through this year. I have been doing a personal study of the book of Hebrews and began to write some poetry based on my own reactions and reflections as I read.

Unfathomable love, Lord
How could you look with shining perfection
To my rotten corpse?
How could you deign to kiss putrid lips?
To breathe in blackened lungs?
To embrace me, sinner?
How could I forget you?
How can I doubt?
You stole the death from my body
The despair from my eyes
What more can I do?
This is mercy

Monday, December 20, 2010

Ink Runs Apology

My title is from one of my favorite poems from one of my favorite poets, Mark Strand. I'll include the poem at the end. I basically needed a place to put my creative writing online, because I'm a narcissist like that. I really think that's all that needs to be said. Other than I am going to try to post every week day (*crosses fingers*) barring holidays. In this way I am hoping to push myself to write daily. Also, I will probably post poems from others that I think are worth reading. Enjoy


As promised:
Eating Poetry by Mark Strand

Ink runs from the corners of my mouth.
There is no happiness like mine.
I have been eating poetry.

The librarian does not believe what she sees.
Her eyes are sad
and she walks with her hands in her dress.

The poems are gone.
The light is dim.
The dogs are on the basement stairs and coming up.

Their eyeballs roll,
their blond legs burn like brush.
The poor librarian begins to stamp her feet and weep.

She does not understand.
When I get on my knees and lick her hand,
she screams.

I am a new man.
I snarl at her and bark.
I romp with joy in the bookish dark.