Monthly Archives: September 2016

Rebel Yell

My morose flows
Like a shallow stream carving,
A waking dream,
A beggar starving,
But there’s a well in me
Swelling waters in the deeps of me
That ripple insurrection
The deepest introspections
Dredge my recklessness:
I won’t let this mess own me
I won’t succumb quietly
Shaking these lies I’ve invented,
I’ve invited in to stay,
And made their bed
I’ve fed them my hours,
My future, my vital powers,
But I’m done, I scour them off my walls
Because all this-
It’s just a distraction
A fraction of my purpose,
And there is a reason I wait,
Why every few seasons
I shake off my possessions,
Reminding me I’m not what I have,
And it doesn’t have me.
I am free
Because of the word He has spoken
I am broken,
And unbreakable

Because He made this knowledge,
This vision, this raging existence
Unshakeable in Himself.
I am who I have,
And He has me.

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Me ‘n Matthew

I’ve succumbed to this infirmity,
Like spiritual leprosy,
Slipping beneath the pallor,
Aching in my joints:
It only hurts where I bend.
And I’m numb again,
My nerve-endings fall mute
But I have called to You

And You are willing.

I hold my breath.
Still on my bed, like stone death
And my fears crush my feet,
Clinging like gasoline and smoke
Paralyzed under the weight
Tormented by what I can’t escape
And I can’t get up, get away,
I can’t crawl to You,

But You will come; You will speak.

Tossed in feverish apparitions,
Bound by my inhibitions
Fueled with burning skin
And thought and imagination,
What is true, objective reality,
And what is birthed inside me
In the flame and misery
Of these spiritual infirmities?

But I believe You’re able:
Touch these hands
Set this fever to flee
So I can stand, so I can see

So I can serve Yours as You’ve saved me.


Strike Anywhere

This under-the-bushel life:
This hush-or-you’ll be seen,
Silent in the strife,
Lucid in the dream,
Choking-out-the-light life

When I should let it burn.

This habit I’ve worn,
These lies I’ve swallowed
Hiding what’s torn,
Filling what’s hollowed
By grief or scorn

With whatever can’t burn,

I keep the wick trimmed
Waiting for an invitation,
But when beckoned, I dim
In reckless hesitation
And sin

Because the light burns

But these dark nights
Call my name
And if light gives sight,
Bring on the flame
It’s time to ignite

My resistance and my purpose
To see what burns,

And what remains.


Self-Deskovery

I miss the road trips
Destination: Me
Always looking to find,
Looking to see,

Look at me now.

I’ve been here,
Been grounded,
But in my stillness
I’m astounded

Hounded by me.

This pen doesn’t aid,
Doesn’t trace my lines
Or uncover my being;
It just reminds me

Of the kinds of me
I’ve already found.


The End

Under my skin,
Within my skeletal frame,
Buried with no marker,
No memory, no name

It aches.

All the work I’ve done
Overturning stones
Searching the cause
Underneath these bones

Unearthing rubble

In my chest
This heart beats,
It bleeds, it calls,
It repeats

My one song.

I mourn
What shouldn’t be broken
The ferocity of fallenness
Like a raging ocean

Devouring

A thorn in all flesh,
Marring perfection,
Worming underneath
Like some hideous infection

I weep

In the face of beauty,
In the eye of wonder,
My heart still bleeds
For all sunk under

The silent waves.

For the imperfections
In beauty acute,
Nearly imperceptible,
But never mute,

Never unsung.

For the ones fallen
Between the cracks,
Unsought, unknown,
Un-intact

I sing

In their company alone
I breathe
I look for the reason
We ever grieve

Even in our joy

A joy that waits,
Incomplete
Until the last heart
Repeats no more.