Bored Games

We pull out the board and all the pieces.
But the rules are lost so you make them up as we go.
We both want to win the game.
But without rules, playing is difficult.
The beginning of the game is thrilling--there are so many pieces.
Pieces and cards I've never seen before.
What is each one for? What can it do?
When play begins, things slow down.
Without the rules, I'm lost. I try to follow your lead,
but I'm not catching on. And I get bored.
Because I can't win a game when I don't know how to play it.
So what's the point in playing?

Today I am grateful.
Today I am grateful to know
that I don't coast through life.
I care.
I try.
I am resilient.
I fight for what I want,
but when I don't get what I want
I have the courage to keep moving forward,
the grace to persevere.
Today I am grateful both for
what I have and what I don't.
Today I am grateful.

Ham & Eggs

Ham & Eggs:

The difference between involvement and commitment. 

The chicken was involved; the pig was committed.

The Thinker

Sitting awkwardly
with your right elbow
upon your left knee,
your head resting on your fist.
Your body twisted:
A mound of marble,
you sit.
Fixed to false ideals,
you think.
You think,
and you think,
and you think.
Too much thinking
tempts the mind
to the point that
Action is paralyzed
and incapable of searching
for real connections.
But you think.
Not critically or civilized;
You think savagely.
No care for understanding.
No care for whys or hows.
Happy to rest in fragments
content in bowing down
to the idols and spectral
froms that allure the mind
into false paths.
So focused on these statues,
your own statue
that nothing (not reason,
not evidence) can shake you
from your fixed worship.
Thou shalt not profane, touch,
or question the idols of thought.
So powerful are these idols
that no authority can persuade.
You remain affixed in your gaze
to their luster.
Closed.                Closed.
So closed that action:
active, persistent, and
careful consideration of
any belief of knowledge
is impossible.
No evaluation of past mistakes,
no sensitivity to problems
and finding solutions.
No exploration or testing.
No trying or figuring.
No desire for a full experience.
The experience that elevates us.
Raises us above instinct
and appetite and routine
and animal.
The experience that sets us free;
Makes us human.
But you in your suspended state
have sunk: far, far below.
Less than animal even;
You are stone.
Bound to error.
Mounted to false ways of thinking.
Enslaved.
Dead weight.

Purged

Your effect was toxic
Poison slowly seeping through my skin
with every smile, every touch
until suddenly I was infected.
I was choking, but didn't notice
until you were gone
and the sedated euphoria that kept me
in a state of suspended bliss was gone too.
I left you. I tried to rid myself of you.
But the poison remained,
Cancerous, it clung to every cell spreading
and the choking began.
I tried to get you out:
coughing, heaving, purging, convulsing
But your poison was too strong
and the more I convulsed, the more I choked
gagged
Like thick syrup coated my throat and
all my insides squeezing, suffocating every
particle of true life out of them
Leaving them (me) a barren wasteland of misery
How could I have been so blind?
Why was I won over into thinking it "could work."
Your venom took over.
And I let it, but didn't know it
Until I was debased--hollow
And then it was too late
And now I need the antidote.



And then the days pass, and I think you're gone
that I'm completely purged of the toxin you left inside me
But then the choking comes again and the convulsing returns
And I wonder if you'll ever be out really.

The golden forsythia
blooms.
Bursting forth,
it welcomes
the Spring with
promises of hope
and life and
all things new.
But its brilliance
and all of its promises
are overshadowed by
the cold and dreary
gray. The winter
that persists;
Withering
the promises of
spring.

Giving

I give time
I give support
I give nourishment
I give delight
I give organization
I give concern
I give compassion
I give hope
I give kindness
I give beyond capacity
I give myself
I give my heart
You give me the reason
to give up.

I think,
therefore I am.
False.
I do,
therefore I am.
Better.
I act,
therefore I am.
Because thinking
is only being still;
And being still,
you may as well be dead.
Thinking is not doing;
not acting.
To be human,
To be Alive,
is moving,
acting,
doing.

At night is when the sorrow comes
the loneliness, the fear.
It lingers in the shadows of taunting lamplit rooms
as you fight back every fear.

The darkness glooms, it penetrates
your soul from every side.
It creeps into each crevice, festers on your weakness
no matter how you try to hide.

An inescapable prison is the long
enduring night.
Breeding despair and anguish, sucking all that's left of hope
Leaving you too powerless to fight.

Night terrors rage upon you
in reckless, restless sleep.
Exhaustion overcomes you, draining body, mind, and soul
Black blindness in does seep.

The blackness begins to choke you,
the suffocating force.
It overwhelms and darkens,
beckoning your surrender to its course.

Phoenix Tears

(Another from my other blog. Found it today and was surprised at how applicable it is right now.)

Darkness engulfs you.

It is caving in on you.

The heaviness smothers you.

And in the darkest of darks

The blackest of blacks

Poof!

The phoenix bursts into flame.

And when you thought things couldn’t get any darker,

All hope is lost; all hope is gone.

Burnt, extinguished, charred.

All that’s left is ash.

Dull, gray soot in a heap on the floor.

The soot settles in the somber air.

And just when you think there will be no end to this despair;

That the dank and heavy darkness will overcome you,

The ashes stir.

And subtly they begin to take shape, a form.

A phoenix is reborn.

Out of the ash, a phoenix is reborn.

And in your darkest dark of nights

Your blackest black of storms

A brand new phoenix is reborn

He comes to you, he sheds a tear

It heals your wounds, your heart, your fear. 

(This appeared previously on my other blog, but I re-found it today and liked it, so I thought I'd post it here.)

Bursting with new life
Sunlight flickers it's soft hand
And smiles sudden warmth


Fragile floating blur
One gust of wind in the breeze
Vanishing to dust


Little girls twirl swirl
Spinning around, dresses fly
Blow, puff, make a wish

Stuck

One day we went to the fair.
Lights were flashing,
Music trinkled here and there.
Cotton candy poofs in the air.

Booths that proved a strong, courageous man
from a weak one lined the rows.
You proved yourself with the first hammer slam:
the button flew up with a whoosh, zoom, bam.

I decided to go on the ferris wheel;
Not sure what I was thinking.
Disillusioned by the lights, all was surreal.
For I've always hated ferris wheels.

I'm afraid of getting stuck at the top,
the cart swinging wildly in the wind.
No one there to make it stop.
The ground too far below to drop.

So up I went. Around and around.
Stuck in a circle
never looking down to the ground,
hoping that facing upward my fear would be drowned.

But I was stuck as could be.
Trapped alone on the wheel
spinning, spinning endlessly.
No where, no way to flee.
Wondering how I could fix me.

And where were you while I was stuck?
On the bumper cars
is where you tried your luck.
But everything just went amuck.

You were trapped in a corner against a wall.
Continuously ramming your car
into the very same stall,
not recognizing your own downfall.

You rammed and you slammed your car to and fro,
but stuck you remained
with no place to go
not forward nor backward and nothing to show.

There helpless you sat not wondering why,
not puzzled, not weary,
not willing to try.
Not thinking about what being stuck could imply;
Content just on sitting, watching people pass by.

In the beginning.

In the beginning we were

embarking on a journey.

A journey that would lead us

into thorns and briars

And sunbursts and cloudless skies.

We came.

We came willingly, longing to grow.

To become.

And so we started.

We commenced on this journey.

We met rocky paths and climbed

mountains.

We waded through mud.

We watched sunsets.

Slid down rainbows.

Jumped in puddles

And were blown in the wind.

Some days we grew.

Some days we died.

Some days we felt we were

trapped in a never-ending cycle.

A circle that neither begins nor ends.

We wondered if we were becoming.

If we were growing or shrinking or

stagnant.

And one day, we looked back.

We looked back on the paths we had tread,

The mountains we had climbed,

The dreams we had found,

And we saw.

We saw that our lives were not a circle,

but a spiral.

An upward spiral stretching

heavenward beyond the stars.

Feast

=...........................+

X..............................Confusion

+..........................=

Famine

Release

Right now I want to scream;
to cry; to sob;
to let the tears roll down my
cheeks while my nose gets all stuffy.

I want to run away.
Jump in my car and just go
until I can't go any farther.
Until I find solace somewhere.

I want to dive until I touch
the bottom of the ocean,
until I become one with the
waves and fall back in with the tide.

I want a place to hide
when everything becomes too much
to handle; when I just can't
be with anyone anymore.

I want to be somewhere else.
Somewhere I can just be me.
Somewhere I can find myself;
Somewhere far away from noise and congestion.

I want to go where I can love
completely and be loved
completely in return.
I want to feel whole.

I want rejuvenation:
A new shot at life.
A fresh start; A new day,
A day to begin again.

I want a place to rest.
To be free from worry,
Unbound from fear.
A place of security.

I want to breathe deeply
inhaling life and all things good,
exhaling all things destructive.
An escape from suffocation.

At dusk
just before the
street lights buzz,
the fireflies dance
and the crickets chirp
in sync with their flicker.
The drooping trees
and climbing bushes
add to the ambiance:
creating what should be
a magical land
full of awe and wonder.
But the graveness of reality
overpowers any wish of fantasy
and extinguishes
the fireflies' magic
and silences the crickets' chirp
to a mere drone
of dead weight and
disillusion.

Becoming

My mother taught me kindness
when she was kind.
Even when others (including myself)
weren't always kind in return.

My mother taught me to love learning
as she was a natural teacher
who was always learning herself
and made sure we learned lessons
before we went out to play.

My mother taught me to work hard
as she woke every morning well
before the sun to put in
more than a full day's work.

My mother taught me to do my best
as she always tried to do better.
And always expected me to
do my best in school, at church,
and in my relationships with others.

My mother taught me to be brave
and do hard things with her
never-ending encouragement,
her support, and full investment in me.

My mother taught me to put God first
when I saw her quietly studying her
scriptures, sharing gospel insights
over dinner, and the faith and trust
she always put in God.

All that I am or ever hope to
become, I learned from my Mother.

Clunker

First it was the radiator.
Then it was the carburetor.
The tail lights,
and a flat tire--
you're in for a whole new set.
The left gasket goes out
The right one too
The side door's dented
The oil leaks.
Then the brakes
Then the a/c
Then the starter
and the battery
Then the
Then the
Then the
Then the....
Everything is broken.
The original is gone,
a mish-mash of pieces and parts.
An empty frame that
sputters on;
it's fate looming on the horizon:
A used car junkyard.
R.I.P.
Rust In Pieces

You're unfixable--
A clunker with too many flaws.

Told time and again,
it must be true.

Cherry Blossoms

In the spring the time does come
when trees are laced in white;
the blossoms flutter in the breeze
like dresses twirling in delight.

The sweet scent drifting on the breeze--
it sinks into your soul;
it spreads all through you deep inside,
you find it's your heart it's stole.

You long for it to keep you there,
all bright and white and new;
New life bursting all year long--
Bursting, blooming out of you.

But petals fall and flutter down,
they go just one by one;
the rich green leaves will take their place,
their glorious beauty done.

And soon the rich green leaves will fall,
they'll tumble to the ground;
the limbs all sparse and barren,
no sign of life is found.

Until another year begins
and dances in with style;
Twirling, spinning, life returns,
rewarding life's dim trial.

the elephant

It was written on the walls

But nobody read

It whispered in the noise and in the silence

But nobody listened

It shimmered through the lights

But nobody turned them off

Until now

And then the darkness settled