Waiting

Constant white noise of traffic
Sad imitation
For the back home lullaby
Ocean hum
Looking through
Stretching, echoing, duplicating
Windows and mirrors
Pulling, Peering, grasping, searching
Screaming
I'm right here.

Desert Man

These desolate dry, barren lands
These forsaken, underestimated lands
How much blood has been spilled here
How many blind swings thrust here
This man doesn’t know his own name
This man, cannot place one name
The sun beats down and no moisture rises
This is an empty space, there are no horizons
She is standing there, she will take you to the water
She is standing there, she will; even though you haunt her

These lands, they tread heavily
These lands, they pull at your legs, you go slowly
Which direction will this battle rage on
Which decision does this victory rest on
This man he is a rock, a stone, he is silent
This man, though he sits so still, he is violent
In this place there is a body of water, it’s the only one there
There are no birds, the sky looks down with a blank stare
She does not move, she is watching, she will hold you
She does not move, she doesn’t know, if she is bold too

These lands, they are singing, they are a chorus
These lands, they will take you in, they are porous
Why can’t the end be known to this story
Why where they brought here, was it all for God’s glory
This man, he is just a man, he can’t save himself
This man, he can live, but he can’t see himself
He steps in, and the water, it surrounds him
He is sitting there, he thinks nothing can be found that will move him
She came close, she knelt down and she holds you
She came close; she wrapped her arms around
And she holds you


This poem is kind of a song and story about a dream that God gave me. I feel "cooky" saying so, but it's the truth. The full meaning of the dream is still unfolding. Basically, I am the girl in the poem that is leading the desert man into the water and then holding him once he's there, and this is a metaphor for my being a guide/helper to a person(or people) on his(their) journey to Christ. I think there's more to it. I'm still asking God about it.

A short and powerful punch

Untitled

I will never be satisfied
There is a hunger that pulls
At my chest
My desire is amplified
Day to day is a tune that lulls
My passions to sleep
And my soul cries,
Jesus Christ make love to me!

all the new rage

I'm sitting on this dinosaur
Daring myself to unfurl this metaphor
Is our dinosaur a herbivore

His legs like old redwoods
How long have I grown these roots
This sticky mud sticks to my boots

Look at that tail how it stretches on for a mile
Look how I carry this weight and still manage to smile
Open trap door, release ungodly pile

Maybe there's hope in his long neck that stretches
Leaves at the top of the trees it fetches
Straining myself, my back retches

There's a lot to see from up here
On the back of this mammoth I peer
Into the future, it scares me, how clear

Journal

Pages and pages and pages
Its all about the same thing
Showing it's face in different stages
Will you catch me when I'm falling?

Cooped up, so many hiding places
Can you see my heart in this
Closet full of clever disguises
And I'm klenching the keys in my fist

Habits, will you please stop bleeding?
Open your eyes, put your feet on the ground
Stop flailing, you're not drowning
Be still addiction, hear the sound

A chorus of angels crying
They're pounding nails into his hands
He's dying,
Now He's rising
Keep your eyes on the promised lands

Transistions

Twenty five days and counting
Pink rubber ball bouncing
Tapping on my brain

Blindfolded journey to embark
Grasping at fistfuls of the dark
How dramatic, how true

Frail and waif thin, poor thing can't win
There's a place she keeps her heart in
Held deep underneath

Tiptoes in this piper
Like some raging lamb/lion/viper
Each baying call brings on waterfalls
This thumb-sucking baby in overalls
Needs her dad

Poem

These past few years have been known to me as "the years of the heartbreak" in my writings and in my prayers. It was a really hard time across the board and my being responded in exhaustion in several ways. But the whole time God gave me faith and hope and promised that my time in such a dry cruel place would not last forever. The dry cruel place I speak of, is one pummeled with heartbreak and then stripped of it's creativity (creativity being a mechanism with which I connect to, communicate through, and heal with). Anyways... God is good and He has healed me and is healing me in so many ways, and from this springs forth poetry. The following poem I wrote about a month ago, in my new living room, in a new town.

Poem

How much of my self preserving is actually hurting?
Eventually I would heal but I would move on limping
Its that drag in my step that's got me second guessing
I'm so weak and broken and scared
now here I am confessing

True love stop hiding
and come down off those clouds high above
God inside me, with all your might,
give my soul a shove

eyes wide open checking each step,
taking awareness like a drug
and the catalyst of my actions along with the consequences
will be love.

and so, the blogging begins

I don't really know what I'm doing here. No, that's a lie. I am attempting to share my poetry, but as far as knowing how to use this blog to it's full potential.... just bare with me.

Thanks for stopping by :)