Thursday, May 12, 2011


He is my sun, and I am his moon

We birth the stars each summer in June

After long springs of love and winters of peace

Then we Fall into each other and the cycle repeats

I am his melody, he is my beat

We create music each time that we meet

As sharp as the snare and smooth as the sax

He gives and I take, but we never subtract

He is the mountain top to which I climb

I am the shady tree where he comes to recline

Here he is the rock from where I draw strength

And there I am the shelter where he rests at length

He’s been my wind, and I’ve been his rain

And each time that we’ve met we conceived hurricanes

His gale is so strong, his pressure so low

That my torrents will wash all that lingers below

He is my fuel, and I am his spark

We bring light to the shadow and make day of the dark

Our heat has no aim, our flame no motive

But if we could not burn, then nothing could live

We belong like the sun and the moon

We are inherent like rhythm and blues

We coexist like the mountain and tree

We exude power like the storm on the sea

Like a blaze in the mountains we will not be pleased

Until we need rest from burning and feel bad for the trees

As earth is to water, and fire to air

We were made to fit together,one whole from two pair

Mr. Ferryman

Hey Mr. Ferryman,

Can I take ride?

Can I rock on your waves?

Will you ride me side from side?

Hey Mr. Ferryman,

How much to pay my way?

I can give you what you want from me,

Or I can work and earn my stay.

Hey Mr. Ferryman,

Can I travel with you?

It won’t matter where we end up,

Only what we do.

Hey Mr. Ferryman,

Can we take a trip?

I’ll be a good first mate;

I know my way around the ship

Hey Mr. Ferryman,

You don’t say a lot,

But you take me where I’m trying to be

And know how to reach my spot

Tuesday, February 16, 2010


When I think back on what once was I smile, not because it pleases me but because it is over.

From time to time memories lure me to what was pleasant about days gone by but it is not long before reality focuses those snap shots and the truth is revealed

It is not uncommon for my mind to wander to what once was and what could have been before it finds its way back onto the path of righteousness.

 It is then that I realize that I do not take pause often enough to be greatful to God for the lessons of the past , the experience of the present or the hope for the future. I have grown, I am growing, yet I have hardly begun to understand my potential for the future.

Simply stated, I acknowledge that I am blessed and for that I am greatful.

You Are

That first thing in the morning smile
That jump whenever my phone rings
The can't-wait-to-leave-work-and-get-to-you's
My truly somethin' special can't stop smilin' thing
My can't believe it worked out, got me wild'n thing
That hold on to my pillow when I can't see you
That good day, bad day, any day kind of friend
The reason I love Sunday afternoons
My monday night football commentator
My favorite argument instegator
That not about anything but about everything
That Christmas morning feelin'
The "it's my birthday" feelin'
That "Momma's makin' sweet potato pie" umption you get before Thanksgiving
And the first sip of coffee on the way to work, just became alert feeling
All that, all this... so much more

Today I cried

Today I cried, not unlike any other day I cried. I cried yesterday and the day before, I cried. I cried uncontrolably in anguish, I cried. My inner rivers of sorrow burst free through the gates to my soul, I cried. Until I shook, I cried. Twice this week people have pulled up besides me to ask if I was okay, or if I needed some help, I shook my head and drove on, I cried. No one called me out of my name, but I cried. I ached , and pained, and cried. Every Sunday morning, and every friday night, as I walk from my seat to my car, unnoticed, unadressed, uninteresting, I cried. I smile and I wave away those superficial reltionships, get in my car, and cry before I can pull out of the lot. I cried.I tried to control myself but I cried, I sobbed, I travailed loudly under the blaring sound system in my '89' Volvo, I cried. I work, I go to class, I go home, I stare up at the ceiling and I cry.

Why do I cry? I cry because I am alone. I know i have Jesus, and he's always enough, yet I cry at night when I sit in silence, look at my phone and anticipate how long it will be before it rings from someone besides my mother. But I've never had friends really, I should be used to it right? It never bothered me before right? It didn't, not until these past few weeks of tears enough to drown in. I never cared much for the company of others, I have a certain distaste for people and the drama the always carry with them. So why do I cry? I pull away from a church I've attended since before most its members new it existed, I walk past people who have "known" me for years, and no one sees me, no one sees past the insincere smile. I realized that I have become an invisible shell of who I once was, and I cried.

Your eyes - a love song to the Lord

You are my sunrise and sunset,

And all that comes between.

Each rain cloud and each dew drop

All mean you to me.

The wind whispers your name,

The birds sing of your ways,

The roses seem to smell of you,

To you the oceans wave.

Your love is the mighty oak,

The cool breeze like your kiss.

And the sweetest honey is still far from,

The sweetness of your lips.

If rain and dew and ocean dried,

Winds, birds, and roses ceased,

If gone the oak, cool breeze and honey,

Your love is still as sweet.

If the celestials would all be gone,

The sun not set or rise,

If all their beauties fade far away,

I'd still find heaven in your eyes.

Who, what, when, where ,how and why

What's the matter with me? Why have I been starring at this blank page for two hours, blanking every time a thought crosses my mind? Why do I push back the words before they develop into concepts? Where is my muse, my rhythm, my life beat, and why did she leave? Why is the light from the screen, once serene, now blinding and binding my words in a place just out of my reach. Where did this swollen emptiness come from and why won't it leave? Why are these unspoken words screaming in my head for me to speak, but refuse to be released? What am I afraid of? Am I hiding from something lurking in the shadows of my mind? Is bigger than my conscious self can handle, so it must remain hid? Are my id and my ego playing keep away with some great mystery my super ego needs not know of? Am I nauseous because my conscious mind is beginning to smell the rotting remains of what the subconscious has let die and remain hidden? Who is that screaming in my mind to "wake up before I die!" and "let die what never lived!" and "what good is a lie?"? Better yet, how do I make the screaming go away and why do I here it every time I stand still, whenever words cease to be spoken, and every moment I am alone? Have I finally lost my mind? Am I really so lonely and insecure that I've learned to ignore good judgment, wisdom, common sense and my very own voice. Have I locked me up in a cage in the back of my existence in order to function in a shallow reality and ignore the emptiness that follows? When did i trade in who I was for who I am? When did I begin to over dose on mental morphine, and keep dragging myself around with a shattered spine? When did it become worth it? And how do I make it stop?