Value Mart

 We live in a shopping mall world of transactional people. 
 Walking the polished floors with only reflective lights.
People in a mad flurry searching the shelves for the right company, buying ideas in bulk, and fervently scratching lists.
 People walk aisle after aisle trying to satiate some thirst or pacify some craving.
  The grown world is a cold one where we feed of instance and demand what is new. 
 But I'm not new.
I'm from a different time of warmth and softness and intentions.
 Like an abandoned child's bear that once was family and familiar in a sense.
Stained with the broken bonds and matted fur,
Discarded in a place lacking innocence. 
Sentimentality is a luxury of cost, in a place that values nothing.

Sweet Dreams

  Sometimes, I think a thousand thoughts that I want to share with you. Hope sails in the wind like a leaf abandoned the security of the  familiar tree. Silence with you isn't silent.  It's the low hum of love and adoration. Poetry pours free from my heart for you. These dying words of wasted breath unyielding and unspoken sent. In another time, and a different self, maybe you'd take my offered hand. We'd slow dance through life cheek to cheek. Sheltered from the failures of a dying world and the brutal cold love of the shallow and shadows. I'd share moments with you adorned with laughter and wit, built on stones of faithfulness. I wish you knew. I wish you understood.  But, we are not, though you know... and you understand. Time drifts and I stand in silence, yet saying everything I can say without the words. I see you across the world, and I know your beauty through God. Time persists, and you hold it more than I do. You wait as I have. I will hold you tightly in my dreams, and release you wild in my waking mind

Tevs Request

 Two toil in hope 

entwined in clever chemistry

openly ambiguous and loudly discreet 

Two step in quips and glances 

in imagined circumstances

Masters of disguise, not hiding true intent

with tongue in cheek and turn of phrase 

intentional displays 

Two spiral around themselves

Secure, complete 

familiar and unaware

No panic, 

No fear,

No pressure

Like a long slow walk through the springtime fields 

To finally arrive at home.

Trains of thought

 Now my thoughts are bullet trains
They're plotted stops where busy sentiments board and disembark
Like my intentions are a commuter late for work
passing by a busy world
ideas scraping elbows with strangers
huddled in a speeding tube of conversation

Train stations like airports though... 

they seem like a net of distant people.
like someone caught them all from some far off place were people would walk free in sunlight and happiness
what I see in these train stations and airports are faces
of people trying to get away from somewhere
people trying so hard to get somewhere else
My thoughts, like people on a train, or in the sky in a different speeding tube...
Are going somewhere
all cramped together in my mind
and when they arrive at that destination
they funnel out with a sigh of relief.

Sometimes I think about strangers
as I walk like a ghost drifting past the living
I look at their faces
and I think about their lives
Their sorrows and their joys
I wonder about their character
How many of these people have love
How many are carrying hope like a disease
How many faces have swallowed lies
How many dream defiantly
I wonder how many cowards I know

I wonder how many heroes are born each day

I wonder how fascinated God must be with us, so strange, and seperate, and alone, and together, and united and contradictory.

Our yearnings for freedom

Our dyings in sin

The dances we do along the lines of dark and light

The totality of a soul you know

Dig

Click clackin at the keys
My mind making the sound of wind blowing through an old glass bottle
I used to write this way because all my thoughts were underground
deep in the soil of my heart
and I had to dig
I had to dig through the salted earth
beneath the topsoil, exposed to the elements of life
that soil where the careless tread and bugs creep
I would scoop up a huge pile of words and toss them aside
scoop, toss, scoop,toss, scoop, toss...
it never took long to find myself in the trenches
fingernails covered in the clay of imagination and intention
Like an emotional geologist I'd sift through these grounds of rocks and seeds
I'd rinse the lines that had potential
washing my heart of stone in a creek
Sometimes I'd run my fingers along the cracks in the stone,
imagining the galaxy of colors and shapes inside.

Growth

 Life is a series of movements

Moments of shelter and scatter 

We break out like the dawn claiming the world like light in each new day

Each new day we die at darkness. 

Growth

We're israel at the mountain in the sweating heat of movement 

soles of our shoes unworn as we tread

we wander n the wilderness of lessons learned and unlearned and relearning again.

faithfulness

and faithlessness

Like the shell of a seed we die

like the sapling we rise

Growth

We move like trees through the garden of God

incrementally progressing with the wind and adversity

with time and pain we are forged stronger

and weaker

Our bark sheds, our leaves wilt, we spoil in the sun we once craved

winter comes for each of us

until we are born again anew