Forgotten Probity Forgotten Purity

Poem from September 2011

2011-12-04T23:15:00.000-08:00

Newest poem. I shared it with my dear friend Casey who I so I wish I lived closer too. We'd have a much deeper friendship if we did I'm sure...he's one of those buddies who you can shoot the wind with but then have profoundly deep conversations with at the same time. He gave me some thoughts/suggestions for this poem so it's likely to grow and morph. This is version 1.2

Find the rest in your pain

I'm finding my rest in the pain.
With no cares but for the grace of springtime trees
With tussles of hair in the face of eastern winds
Just kids on the mind, their running and screeches
I'll take you to find a nook to share and crowd
With sweat and tears, breasts and ears.
I'm finding my rest in pain.

I'm holding the calm in the torment.
With no fear but for the little glory of a dark night
With roots of resolve steeped in the story of joy
Just youth on the mind, with its drums and cymbals
I'll take you to the window to kiss and swoon
With skin and hair, smiles and stares.
I'm taking my calm in my torment.

Pressure

2011-07-18T02:03:00.000-07:00

First, a poem I wrote sometime between May and Jun 2011. I hadn't written poetry in a long time.

Homegrown Burdens

Enough with the allegories

the music calls me out, upside down.

The ringing rhymes with hard drumming,

and they breaks me up, rips me around.

Black and blue, bruises surround me

when I close my eyes. I'm a half jig

mourner, a side step sojourner

and I can never quite steer this rig.

Out of tune and all short of breath

can't jump a shit to save our lame leg.

I'm native blues, a drifter's cruise

just waiting a waste before I beg.

I'm feeling a lot of pressure. There's a considerable amount of under-the-surface stress that's popping up so much so that I don't know how to deal with it. I'm hoping that God will have mercy on me, and help me push through it...though I'm finding myself more exhausted by problems I can't distance myself from (because they are apart of who I am, physically)...and I'm also finding that life is a journey, a continual process that you don't ever get a real break from or ever really win or lose or finish until life ends. Sure is tiring, let me tell you.

2009-08-20T22:46:00.000-07:00

For Sister Poverty, we give thanks, for Brother Want
We give thanks.

[Bernardo] Forgive and you shall be forgiven and live in simplicity.

For Sister Poverty
We give thanks
For Brother Want
We give thanks
We give thanks
Thank you, Lord, for all Thy mercy
For the storm, and winds that blow
Thank you, Lord, for all Thy blessings
For Sister Grace
We give thanks
For Brother Faith
We give thanks
We give thanks

[Renunciates] Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the Earth.

[Francesco] How blessed are those who show mercy, for mercy shall be
shown to them. How blessed are the peacemakers; God shall call them his
sons and daughters.

Meeting Vincent Pannizzo.

2009-07-29T00:59:00.000-07:00

Today was a very difficult day for me. I will try to best explain what happened, how I felt, what I perceived and observed. I will try to be honest and not to either downplay or embellish facts. Instead of telling and retelling my story, I'm going to write it down in the hopes you will read it. You know what that means? You do.

It MEANS, my friend, to read this. Danke.

A little over a year ago, I forget how I came across the article—I think it was through a blog somewhere, or a link. I don't know. But I cam across first an article written by SF Chronicle. It was written on this man, Vincent Pannizzo who had chosen to become homeless to serve the poor and homeless. Here is the SF GATE link. I was so intrigued, convicted, inspired and curious, that I tucked the story away in the back of my mind. A couple weeks later, after going through my third cancer treatment à la lung surgery, I looked him up and found that PBS had also done a story along with a video on him. Here is the PBS story & video. My previous mix of feelings were heightened a little more. Heck, I think the last straw was when I saw that Cracked.com mentioned him in one of their famous, hilarious and interesting lists—titled "5 Homeless Guys who Accomplished Amazing Things. Vincent made second place, which I understand because it would be morally difficult for Cracked.com to grant such a blatant Christian First Place. (I've got to hand it to them though, they were really good at not poking fun at him and sounded like they actually had some genuine respect for the guy.)

Anyways, that last Cracked article kinda pushed the edge for me. I decided that once I came home, I would try to meet him. I first expressed this sentiment to myself, and I think to Samantha once or twice, but then quickly forgot about it. I was going to try and contact him over spring break. But it came and went conveniently enough. Long story not so short, I finally made the time to write a little letter to Louise Hill, who was mentioned in the PBS article. She seemed to respect him enough to possibly help me, and it was also easier to get a hold of her since she had an address (which I found online). I wrote her this letter:

Dear Ms. Louise Hill,

I hope this isn't too out of the blue or bizarre and that this letter finds you in good health. I came across two articles on Vincent Pannizzo online, the man who is called the "Preacherman". I felt very strongly compelled to meet him yet I didn't know how to contact him. When I saw you're short interview on PBS I wondered if I might be able to contact him through you. If you would be able too, or if you know how I might be able too I was hoping maybe you could email me. If this is too strange of a request, or if you aren't Louise Hill (the interview is almost a year old now) an email saying so too me would be amazing. I live in Sunnyvale (just north of San Jose) so it isn't too difficult for me to come out to Oakland. My email is:
....

....

Thank you so very much,
In peace,

Four days later I got a letter back. It was a short note that said she had passed my note on and that it would be best if I called and talked to him first. I did call. I was able to talk to him very briefly. I told him that I had found out about him from the articles and that I really respected what he was doing and I wanted to get in touch and possibly meet him. He seemed eager, or maybe not eager but perhaps comfortable or open to meeting me, and that made me feel a whole lot more confident about the matter. This past monday I called him up, and he told me that he would be wearing a green baseball cap, with a beard and washing the windows of "Loard's Ice Cream" which was on the corner of Coolidge and MacArthur.

Before I go into my meeting, I'd like to be clear about my personal emotions regarding meeting and talking to him.

-) First I was scared. On one hand I had kind of built up this image of him—that there were people out there who were following Christ and could be looked to as an example. I didn't want to see this constructed image/hope/religious fantasy come crumbling down. On the other hand, I was terrified of coming out depressingly convicted. There might have been some subtle hints of being scared for random little things like, meeting a new person and getting to know a complete surgery etc. They were mostly trivial though. Mainly I just felt scared, and it was this feeling that partly drove me to carry on anyways.

-) Secondly, I was very proud. Pride is something I struggle with, hell I'm proud about the fact that I have to struggle with my pride. Half the time I think people pretend to hate pride, while most people love someone with confidence that comes from a healthy dosage of (negative) personal pride. I don't know where personal comfortability transforms into self-esteem and overflowing abundant self-value, but I definitely find myself often in that territory. Just as some people are proud to find an obscure band who play good music, or an obscure book or food recipe or chic outfit—I was proud to have "found" Vincent and to have taken the initiative to contact him. Now that I've confessed that, I can confess that I am a little prouder to have met him face to face instead of reporting on written articles, or reporting on articles that comment on written articles about him.

-) Despite the image I built up of him and my pride. I was very sure that I needed to do this. At the very least if God was not involved at all in this nudging, I thought, it couldn't hurt me. Except for gas I essentially had nothing to lose by meeting him. To I honestly felt a strong desire to meet him and not all of it was from me.

I woke up early (10 am) this morning, got into my car and awkwardly followed Googlemaps' directions to 580 and finally to the Ice cream parlour. It was 12:10, he said he would be there around that time, yet when I walked around I couldn't find him. I returned to my car, suddenly very self-aware of my surroundings. It's Oakland after all and the area wasn't so great. I didn't feel scared, I was parked outside a Framing store which was owned quite obviously by a Christian since the sign outside said that they would not be at the shop on Sunday due to Church and through the doorway I recognized a verse from Psalm written up on the wall. After waiting fifteen minutes, my anxious feelings were beginning to get the best of me so I started playing the "wait just five minutes more-then in four minutes-wait another five minutes more-repeat" game. After another ten minutes I looked over and saw Vincent standing by the window.

I got out of the car and went up to meet him. I introduced myself again and we got into my car and drove to a nearby park. Apparently it was the same park where he did the interview for one of the news articles. Our conversation consisted of usual small talk that two strangers will go through before breaching more serious topics. Starting with how I found out about him, online. Because he's been homeless for ten years, he's never owned a computer or been online. That little fact alone was huge for me, who has grown up and been shaped incredibly by both inventions. He said "I don't even have a cell phone, and never really used them much." My first reaction was "Really? No cell phone? Their not expensive anymore." To which he replied, "I don't have any possessions, I don't need one." That sentence was going to be repeated in one shape or another several times throughout the next three hours. Example: He pointed to his backpack and said "If someone asks for my backpack, I'm going to have to give it to them. It'll be hard, I've had to give it to someone before and it was difficult to carry around things without it. But I have to give it if someone asks for it."

From there I gave my well practiced and oiled, autobiography shortened and adjusted. Including my family's purpose for living in Turkey and being on the field and my struggle with cancer several times. I included my desire to serve the poor ever since reading Shane Claiborne and somehow went into my recent political sentiments. I told him that I've felt two strong calls on my life, one of them being the poor. He listened and asked me a question every now and then. This was perhaps fifteen minutes to twenty minutes long, ten minutes into having gotten into the park. I didn't talk a whole lot after that.

I don't know if he felt that he needed to justify what he was doing, or to reason or persuade me that what he was doing was not crazy or pointless or stupid. I don't know. But the majority of the time, Vincent was was reciting scripture after scripture after scripture (Some he quote from memory, others he looked up and read from his small pocket NT&Proverbs&Psalms he was carrying in his back pocket. I'm remembering only some and having to look up their verses now. He quoted a lot, and come to think of it I don't think he quoted things twice):
"Give to all who ask." Luke 6:30
"Love your neighbor as yourself-but who is my neighbor, anyone and everyone is your neighbor. From those in need to your enemy." John 13:34-35, Matthew 22:34-40, Luke 10:25-37
"Easier for a rich man to pass through the eye of a needle than to enter the kingdom of God" Matthew 19:24-25
"The road to life is narrow but the road to destruction is wide" Matthew 7:13-14
"Take this cup from me" Mark 16:33-34
"No one can have two masters, for he will hate one and love the other...You cannot serve both God and Money" Matthew 6:24
"Blessed are the poor in spirit" and "Blessed are the poor" Matthew 5:3 and Luke 6:20 respectively
"don't hide your light under a bowl" Matthew 5:13?

and on and on and on. Good grief. I'm familiar with all of these verses and I had to keep telling him that I was already convinced, at least intellectually, of not his argument but (what I consider is) Jesus' argument. That Jesus wants us, his followers to love each other, and that means total service. Total service that will naturally include suffering and going homeless or living simply and poorly. I feel bad for having the attitude of "Yes, get on with it then." but I wanted to get to know him. Following Jesus to that degree, quite simply, is too hard for me to do at this moment. I'm writing this to show that he is not naive. The man is not crazy or mentally unstable. He is not mean or cold hearted.

He was constantly quoting scripture, and it was amazing and impressive and a huge relief. I had to dismantle my idea of him, and make it bigger with room to grow. The guy was real, he was legit. He was living what he believed and believing in what he is living. I've never seen faith like this. Actually...maybe that's why he was quoting scripture. Also, come to think of it, part of me feels like thats the only thing he owned.

>>What he looked like
He'll be forty one years old come September. His face is very similar to the video except his teeth are a little cleaner, his beard is less trimmed and he's a little thinner. He told me of how he was beginning to feel the weight of his age and the tiring of his body and physical state.

>>How he lives/has lived
He lives by getting what jobs he can each day and then buys food and gives it out each night. He also preaches each night, on a street corner somewhere in Oakland. I asked him towards the end of our conversations if he has any community. He told me that he didn't really, that homeless people can be very hard to connect with either because they are drug addicts or alcoholics or aren't able to easily keep in touch and something else I forget. I asked him if he had any friends. It gave him a pause and he said he didn't really, that he was too busy working in the day. He said he had Louise, but she was "more of a Coworker".

>>Who he is
When he boasted, he boasted in Christ. I think for once it was an actual lesson in what boasting in Christ sounded and looked like. Praising and giving credit to whatever things he did constantly to the faith and strength he was given by God. I expected him to be happier. He felt very burdened and sad. He talked a great deal of suffering and having to deal with bitterness. He gave explained how we are the body of Christ, and Christ's body was nailed to tree and we are to suffer like him (he then procured a passage from Paul on this subject, which I can't find at the moment but I know exists). He told of how he woke up each day next, under the highway pass saying "What am I DOING?" and his constant struggle to keep doing what he's done. In a moment of weakness he mentioned how a probable "hundreds of thousands of dollars" had passed through his hands over the years and he's had to give it all away. He talked of how he was in academia and just as how he had to academically stretch himself, like an athlete pushes himself, faith is the same way. We connected on our similar love for history and talked a little about Ancient Greece and Thucydides, Herodetus (the first Historian) and he mentioned the name of one historian who wrote in the time of Alexander the Great (whose name escapes me now) whose writing he fell in love with during his doctorate. Three times he used the ancient greek root of a word to fully explain a verse or word. To say he knows his history is an understatement. In the first throes of conversation he mentioned how at the moment he was reading an account of Mussolini who he was as a man. He got very excited and seemed to brighten when he talked of history. He was always cautiously ask, when I used the name of a friend/relative, if they were Christian. He also seemed roughly informed about current events. He claimed to being unable to eat unhealthily or to be clean or to dress well.
"I mean, c'mon! Look at me! This is how I live every day. Every day man."

Lastly, he was very hurt. I know and could see that it pained him greatly all the disparaging and hurtful things that were said about him. He told me how he had talked to people who had listened to Christian radios and he was talked about. Calling him crazy, mentally ill and condemning him. He said a lot of profound things to me, one thing was: "People say they want to be a good witness to God, and they dress up in a nice suit. I think that's being a false witness. I'm trying to be a real witness. I'm dressed poorly and I'm dirty. I serve the poor, this is how I do it. If I were to dress nicely and go around, I'd be phony."

>>Things I disagreed with/had a hard time with

He mentioned living in End Times and asked me what I thought of Revelations. I told him that I try not worry myself with it, instead choosing to believe that I can die at any time and should be prepared all the time anyways. He agreed but he seemed to be very concentrated on "the mark of the beast" and how it was probably related to currency. He picked up on the fact that I wasn't super interested, without me saying anything thankfully. It was kind of a bummer to see that some of his hope seemed to partially lie in the fact that the end was nigh. Though his emphasis that everything was going to pass away anyways, drove the home the point for me that following Jesus was all the more important. His belief in prophesy seemed to partially fuel these end times convictions. He didn't go into them much more though so I can't really report on how logical or crazy they are.

He breached predestination and asked if agreed with it. I said "yeah, I don't believe that we are predestined" to which he smoothed over it by saying "It doesn't really matter, we can avoid that subject." I agreed.

He dropped bits and pieces of how the "nominal" church doesn't look like what Christ's church should look like. Towards the end I told him I didn't like to get started on criticizing the church. He rebuffed me and said that I shouldn't withhold myself, which sounds very similar to what I've said to others and have slowly grown out of. I replied with quoting St. Augustine's "The Church is a whore yet she's also my mother." He laughed and enjoyed that quote very much.

>>His wife and son

The biggest issue. I'm still digesting what he's told me. When I've talked to my parents, when I've talked to other friends and people I consider Christian. The fact that his wife and son are no longer with him, seem to provide a PERFECT opportunity to dismiss everything he does. Usually much tut tutting ensues and comments like "That's too bad." Bringing this up with Vincent was tricky...but he knew it was going to come up eventually.
Obviously I only have his side, obviously I don't the wife's version of events or a third person's authoritative narrative.
Vincent presented it to me plainly. It was either his wife, or God's work. He couldn't stop serving the homeless and though his wife was supportive and helped him in taking care of disabled homeless people and feeding in the beginning, eventually she gave him an ultimatum. He confessed that he wished he could have raised his son. That the love between a father and son is entirely unique and how he could still feel his 18 month old holding on to him before he put him to bed, wanting to be with his "Dada" instead of sleep. He went on to how, Jesus said he was going to bring a sword instead of peace. Brother against sister, father against son, wife against daughter. He quoted and interpreted Luke 14:26-27 (such a difficult verse to accept, perhaps harder to interpret)

"If anyone comes to me and does not hate his father and mother, his wife and children, his brothers and sisters—yes, even his own life—he cannot be my disciple. And anyone who does not carry his cross and follow me cannot be my disciple."

Later on (or perhaps before) he quoted the end of Luke 9

"As they were walking along the road, a man said to him, "I will follow you wherever you go."
He said to another man, "Follow me."
But the man replied, "Lord, first let me go and bury my father."
Jesus said to him, "Let the dead bury their own dead, but you go and proclaim the kingdom of God."
Still another said, "I will follow you, Lord; but first let me go back and say good-by to my family."
Jesus replied, "No one who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is fit for service in the kingdom of God."

Even still he quoted Paul who talks about the unbelieving spouse. He didn't elaborate more on, what sounded like a judgement of her spiritual standing, except that when I asked him if she was a christian he said she was. It pained him. He asked me if I didn't think he wanted to go home to a son and a wife. He claimed to still love her and to be bound to her, even though she had sent him divorce papers to sign. The pain was so evident that it explained why he said things towards the end about how he wished he had listened to Paul about it being better not to marry and that he wishes he hadn't.

To close this subject. At least from the perspective presented, it seemed very evident that he did not at all want to leave his family. That his wife left him instead and took his son burdened him greatly each day and she wasn't penniless or helpless by any means. My judgement was that it also undoubtedly made it in some way, perhaps "easier" for him to be homeless and to serve God so clearly. Not knowing his wife's story, I can only hope that she has grown stronger in her faith and has raised a son that may someday love God more anything else as well. I can't believe what he has had to endure and I wonder what God would say.

>>His effect on me
From earlier on in our talking he seemed convinced that God was going to keep annoying me, with that constant, small, quiet little tug and that I was going to eventually answer. He told me that I would face great hardship, and would have to deal with similar difficulties that he has. He encouraged me to love God more than anything, to not let anything or anyone stand in the way of obedience to Jesus. A value that I don't think any Christian would disagree with except for what that "obedience" looks like. I talked to him my difficulty in following in footsteps remotely like his because of health concerns, and that was convenient for me. He did seem to put great emphasis on service to God though, in everything. When I gave him the "If someone was a Doctor and give 90% of their earnings to God, would that not be service?" scenario and He agreed it would be. I want to talk to him more about these scenarios.

I'm going to go back to talk and spend time with him. It's going to be challenging. I almost don't want to go back. The contrast between how he lives and how I live is so, so, so great, it's shameful. It's embarrassing. It's always embarrassing to have so much next to so little and so great poverty. When I think about this shame, this embarrassment, I proceed to wonder how, on my death, I could NOT be judged on my accumulation of wealth and material goods in the face of so much need.

I then gave him some money and I gave him a hug. He thanked me repeatedly and called me more than a friend, but a brother. I had been thinking for the past half hour that I wanted to pray for and with him aloud. Unfortunately I felt too troubled in my spirit and the fact that my bladder was aching for relief certainly provided me with adequate personal excuse not too. I told him I would keep him in my prayers and would call him again and hopefully find some people to come meet him. I then drove home to reeling comfort and leisure. It makes me feel deeply ashamed at even who I am, characterized so much by my wealth.

I think for now, that is an adequate description of my meeting. I fear I have said too much and I hope that I have not said anything out of line or revealed anything that I shouldn't have about Mr. Pannizzo. God bless him. Christ bless him.

2009-07-15T23:18:00.001-07:00

"Forgiveness is giving up all hope of having had a better past."
-Anne Lamott

Chrisitan Anarchism

2009-07-02T03:24:00.000-07:00

I feel that I am partially doing this out of necessity to draw myself separate from developed and blatantly discouraging institutions. But I feel that I am committing to this belief, and exploring its implications and undertones overwhelmingly as a result of dissatisfaction with various Church branches and with the failure of government coupled with the greater impoverishment of mankind's heart and soul.

With nightime tears sunken

2009-04-17T01:52:00.001-07:00

Under what waving banner
shall we gather under
for we have tried, and tried and tried
Who-what will bind our sunder
and fulfill our empty banter
with meaning without sighs,
meaning without sighs.

All is in flux; so we tell ourselves; so we make it

2009-04-15T02:33:00.000-07:00

It's been a long time since I've written a public introverted post. So, what goes on in my mind when I'm feeling a deep vat of mixed emotions ranging from great joy, to sunken sadness?

I like the smell of a cigar. I like the way it flavors my mouth and my tongue. Everything then passes through the smoked sieve and tastes old and earthy.

I like fried tomatoes, cut in half —all shriveled and oily. It's juices running into other Scottish breakfast necessities (such as sausage) on your plate as you wonder where to start and come up with a strategy to taste a bit of every piece of food at once.

I like tequila when mixed with other fruity liquors, some lime or lemon and salt to boot. It's salty and sweet, a balance of colors in your mouth that do a jig. The buzz you get from tequila is so much smoother too, much more mellow.

Music that makes you wonder where you are in life, music that makes you smile inside and makes you think about people other than yourself—that's good music.

Yeah, I hurt inside, but I can't decide if I unwillingly hold on to traumatic memories because they are mine, or if I painfully hold on to them because they help me. Most people think that a person doesn't hold on to memories. But we do, we hold on to them tightly, because we are meaning driven creatures and Pain is so powerful and so disturbing and alien to us, that we look deep into its eyes and scream at the top of our hearts for an answer of it.
We want meaning like we want air. Take meaning away from a human and you deprive him of will to breath, eat and drink.

I like victories. Victories in music sound of triumphant crescendos, those moments where you're at first humbled by the immensity of the power a single note can make you feel and then want to join, be apart of it. Victories in art are difficult to look to long at. It's a challenge to keep looking at them, because they make all else stumble in pale comparison. Victories in life, I feel almost aren't as appreciated. Maybe because we have trouble celebrating a moment, a particular instance—which is maybe why traditions are so powerful (or, again, so meaningful). Traditions are repeated remembrance of a particular moment...

I miss being held by God.

One poem in my top three

2009-04-13T02:38:00.000-07:00

Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

~W.B. Yeats

I like finding gold

2009-04-08T04:24:00.000-07:00

Isaiah 55

"Come, everyone who thirsts,
come to the waters;
and he who has no money,
come, buy and eat!
Come, buy wine and milk
without money and without price.
Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread,
and your labor for that which does not satisfy?
Listen diligently to me, and eat what is good,
and delight yourselves in rich food.

Incline your ear, and come to me;
hear, that your soul may live;
and I will make with you an everlasting covenant,
my steadfast, sure love for(G) David.
Behold, I made him a witness to the peoples,
a leader and commander for the peoples.
Behold, you shall call a nation that you do not know,
and a nation that did not know you shall run to you,
because of the LORD your God, and of the Holy One of Israel,
for he has glorified you.

"Seek the LORD while he may be found;
call upon him while he is near;
let the wicked forsake his way,
and the unrighteous man his thoughts;
let him return to the LORD, that he may have compassion on him,
and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon.
For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
neither are your ways my ways, declares the LORD.
For as the heavens are higher than the earth,
so are my ways higher than your ways
and my thoughts than your thoughts.

"For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven
and do not return there but water the earth,
making it bring forth and sprout,
giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater,
so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth;
it shall not return to me empty,
but it shall accomplish that which I purpose,
and shall succeed in the thing for which I sent it.

"For you shall go out in joy
and be led forth in peace;
the mountains and the hills before you
shall break forth into singing,
and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands.
Instead of the thorn shall come up the cypress;
instead of the brier shall come up the myrtle;
and it shall make a name for the LORD,
an everlasting sign that shall not be cut off."

2009-04-07T03:16:00.000-07:00

"My body, this lean carrion that still has to be washed and fed and have clothes hung about it daily with so many changes, they may kill as soon as they please."

-Third sentence in from "Till We Have Faces"

Praise be to the Victorious One, He who has conquered death, with love and not justice—He who has set Justice at the feet of Love and have blessed both with a child named Glory.

Oh Praise Him.

2008-12-04T03:20:00.001-08:00

Let all things their Creator bless,
and worship him in humbleness,
O praise him, Alleluia!
Praise, praise the Father, praise the Son,
and praise the Spirit, Three in One

Done.

2008-11-11T13:20:00.001-08:00

I got 100 [poems]. Now to edit.

I've been

2008-10-03T01:48:00.000-07:00

writing poems a lot. Trying to churn them out of me. Just pour them out and write and write and write. I want to get one hundred.
Pray for me friends, for my days are always weary.

Ideas, forces and inspiration

2008-09-16T00:21:00.000-07:00

I thought above said video was brilliantly made. What creative things do I have to say?

Not much I guess. I'm getting involved in the school I find myself in.

I'm afraid, not out of fear, but out of respect and genuine knowledge of, powers I'm ignorant of.
Not a lot is worse than forgetting, or unknowingly ignoring, excluding and naively underestimating a power that holds great force and weight in one's life. Ideally I would most certainly like to safeguard myself against such dangers, however I know that I go through my day paying little attention to the silent, subtle yet grave threats to my well being. I really should compile a list, not so much to cultivate a nature of fear within me, but to encourage a nature of wariness, preparedness and diligence in my spiritual, intellect, emotional, physical and external self.

I like colors, different, varying colors and the effects they wreak upon me and others. Symbols and language too are particularly inspiring. I have to stop myself though, from turning around and investing my inspiration in indulgence of symbols and language alone--I should really focus a good deal of my inspiration into other means of communication and ideas little understood and widely cultivated. Unfortunately this usually means reading and researching (utilizing symbols and language) to find and figure out what exactly these ideas are. I need to think more about this and write privately upon this matter.

Until Thursday!

This is incredible.

2008-09-11T14:06:00.000-07:00

My respect for William Shatner went up 500%. He is now amazing. This is hilarious.

I am highly amused by the Spock & Kirk

2005, 2006, 2007 & 2008

2008-08-22T02:09:00.000-07:00

Four years, 80+ poems, a lot of heartache, a lot of growth and a lot of joy.

http://www.paragonmavericks.com/thePoemz.html

Pedahel

2008-08-21T03:44:00.000-07:00

Hebrew name for "God Redeems". Variations: Padeal

Dusty time country

2008-07-29T07:18:00.000-07:00

Oh but the horizon is so wide
and the road, it stretches on, so long.
But if one listens to the wind- it tries
to explain the ways of song and time.

Oh, how you we try to watch our smiles
and forget to taste our tears.
When its crying that makes our faces shine
with the essence of our years.

Oh how I love, how I love to feel.
it's easy and it's hard.
When I breath, my heart does rise
and my many wounds do heal.

the steadying breeze of Bach

2008-04-23T02:55:00.000-07:00

I'm twenty dark rings deep
and two thousand thunders weak
in cedar, oak and olive years.

My fingers are in the ground
the ants they crawl and tickle
and sculpt the warm soft sand

I caught me ladybirds and frogs
and set them on the morning fog
with sweaty hands in summertime.

Now I'll rest me near the river old
and count the bits of fools gold
between my toes and feet.

This Is Just To Say by William Carlos Williams

2008-04-20T23:50:00.000-07:00

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast

Forgive me,
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold

as he slowly died

2008-02-24T15:12:00.001-08:00

they told him
he could not imagine
how much it hurt
to see him die

they told him
he did not understand
how his death
changed their lives

they told him
he could not fathom
how difficult loving him
was

and one day he died
content in the knowledge
that they would at least
remember him
for the wasteland
he left behind.

Jump rope hope

2007-10-10T03:34:00.000-07:00

Sweating beneath the drapes of waltzing
they are drawn across my ephemeral mind
I reach for the outline of shadows behind
but not being real, I struggle in futility
as the sketches are mere cataracts
of bloodshot sight, my senility
looms large without facts

lamenting my familiar failure
I charge with refuge for the shelter
of Wonder, seeking it's skill of burning
with smoke, red glows and change.
As my ally it will hurt me
more than any other.

2007-10-07T22:17:00.000-07:00

What if angels, were once creatures from a different plane of reality, who were created and went through history not unlike us and subsequently came to give up their wills to God in love of Him?

2007-10-02T03:03:00.000-07:00

Often, at moments of sudden uncertainty, as things fall away, I loose sight of what I have. In the follow seconds I hastely reform my character and rebuild my wall of security, shaken by how fast things fell. Am I really that vulnerable to outside criticism? I should really look into strengthening those barriers. Maybe I'll hire a couple of diplomats to hear things for me in comfortable light, then I'll be both protected and receptive of incoming opinions.

Wanna Hear a Poem by Steven Colman

2007-09-04T01:00:00.000-07:00

I wanna hear a poem
I wanna learn something I didn’t know
I wanna say "yes" at the end, because I'm sick of saying "so?"

I wanna hear a poem about who you are
And what you think
And why you slam
Not a poem about me and my poem
Because I know who I am

I wanna hear a love poem
A sad poem
An "I hate my dad" poem
A dream poem
An "I'm not what I seem" poem
An "I need" poem
An "I also bleed" poem
An "I'm alone" poem
An "I can't find my home" poem
I just wanna hear a poem

I wanna hear a poem about revolution
About fists raised high
And hips twisting in a rumble like a rumba
I wanna follow the footsteps of Chè
And hear the truth about the days of CIA killed the mumba

I wanna hear a poem about struggle
So that when I open my mouth, I can step outside myself
I wanna listen to no less than the sounds of protest
In the factories where workers sweat and make Air Jordans and Pro-Keds because
If you wanna take shots at people
Target Phil Knight and Bill Gates
Contemplate how
They own the products
And they got the goods
How they act like they care
But they're just Robin Hoods

I wanna hear a poem where ideas kiss similes so deeply that metaphors get jealous
Where the subject matters so much that adjectives start holding pro-noun rallies at city hall

Because I wanna hear a poem that attacks the status quo
That attracts the claps of the cats with the fattest flows
That makes the crowd pass the hat
And pack my cap with a stack of dough
I wanna hear a poem that makes this audience yell “hoooo!” (hoooo!)

Because I wanna guess your favorite color
Then craft rhyme schemes out of thin air
I wanna hear a poem about why the statute of limitations for rape is only five years
I wanna hear a poem
I wanna feel a poem
I wanna taste a poem
Give me your spot on the mic if you wanna waste a poem

I wanna
Hear
A poem

2007-06-14T13:30:00.001-07:00

The hegemony of God is my foundation, as it is the overseer of All.
His echelon of angels are at my left and right hands-and with enough faith they are at my command.
So I will live my life praising everything with blessings in and of His righteous name without fear or shame.
Failing to partake in matters, thoughts and traditions belonging of and to the Human Society, that is, one which indulges full fledgedly in ones self.
Blessed be the name of our Lord Jesus Christ. May His true followers, May His church which He knows be blessed with understanding and wisdom of how to live in this world we temporarily call home.

2007-05-20T15:18:00.000-07:00

Oh, come and let yourselves be built as living stones unto a spiritual temple.

The Future by Rainer Maria Rilke

2007-04-27T01:05:00.001-07:00

The future: time's excuse
to frighten us; too vast
a project, too large a morsel
for the heart's mouth.

Future, who won't wait for you?
Everyone is going there.
It suffices you to deepen
the absence that we are.

Translated by A. Poulin

Testament to/of brothers

2007-04-22T23:51:00.000-07:00

Over written word, over written truth
wrists were bound and rooms were shut.
Wednesday chilly mourning,
they cried out- they were cut.
Sons of crescent moon,
peace, peace to you!
Allah is the only God,
His Son took hell by coup.

Three men, three hours,
they were kept, my Christ-
oh how beautiful were their feet!
Hidden in shoes of well worned peace.
Bleeding at the mouth,
Ceasing of the heart,
Naked did they come,
naked they depart.

Sauls of Malatya will you wait and hear?
Since you carved martyrs with pain and gore.
Their sound is gone out, to all the land-
and forgiveness rests at your front door.
They died in love,
for glory, in praise.
For the crucified King,
who was buried, then raised.

Creature of nothing

2007-04-15T22:09:00.000-07:00

Rolled, sat and smoked
this rhetoric for so long,
and yes
it might be the death of us
if I don't stop thinking
and rest
without this ugly crisis.

Dreamt the heart away
leaving as it did,
following the debacle
with vicious stubborn time.
Wishing for x, whishing for y
in following cycle
questions turn to crime.

Joy, to feel it
touch and taste,
numbness is my ruin.
It grows on fingers, tongue and eyes
callused head to toe
Suffering loss of gumption
I lack the steady "No."

Freedom is exposure,
cut of the callused scars.
they bleed dark thoughts
set free from locks of darkness.
they bleed bright thoughts
set loose from locks of bleakness
red fountains of deliverance

Salvation is my food
Sustenance from blood
Free of form, chains–infliction
A vampire is not numb.
No longer nothing (sweet pain, what joy)
G-d save this sovereign vampire
and be my sacred signum.

-Kelly Moravec

2007-03-09T02:34:00.000-08:00

I'm like listening to music that is totally not alligned with my current mood. I'm listening to "how do you find a word that means maria...many a thing you know youd like to tell, many a thing she ought to understand..."
Such a flitty little song. A bunch of happy nuns shaking their heads smiling about a younger whipper shnapper...doesn't get more flitty than that.

I am not in a flitty mood.

-don't read on if you 1) don't like hearing someone swear 2) don't like listening to people in crappy moods 3) or are under 15

-In remembrance of the Strong warrior

I wait for the Breath.
Raise me up! From this grave.
Lying trapped in my grave,
I rest amongst death.

My mouth, my mouth is dry.
My tongue shrivled gone.
My bones are all dry.
My waiting is long.

Wet my mouth with your words.
Restore body from earth.
You gave me this life.
Thou [must] rememberst my birth.

How did I meet him? I actually couldn't remember when I first did, I had to go back and look. I started my first chemo round the day after christmas 2003. I was sick for New Years and then I believe I went back in for another round (I remember very little of it, sickness+exhaustion+drugs+unwillingness to remember.) This was the entry his mother posted on January 28 2004:
"...the 15 yr. old boy named Chris Smiley that Kelly met last time is here again this week and next. His Mom and I are having fun teasing the boys. This is the family who has had to come home from their field in Turkey. I learned they have 4 children altogether. Kelly was too sick last time to get to know Chris. Last night however the two played computer games for 2.5 hrs. and also went to a "Hang Out" group with 2 other teen guys... "
(we were playing Predator...this was before we got into Halo, Savage etc. etc. We both had macs...we had a strong technological bond from the begining.)

He started getting his chemo a bit before me, we both had tumors that changed our mobilitiy indefinitely. At first it was just that hesitant male-to-male bonding with video games and such. Curtains would be pulled when other doctors and nurses came in. Then we witnessed each other barfing. Dry heaving does something to a friendship, puts it on the fast track. Also that whole being bald issue too. Our mothers became close, inevitibly of course ...which led to invitations. He came to our house a couple times. We visited their house in Redding, sped around their muddy track in their sweet go carts. After our surgeries, I think, we became closer than we liked to be. We knew what the other was going through, and what we put up with, but we didn't talk about it much because knowing someone else actually understands the inner raw, raw pain, is hard enough without having to talk about it with them. I didn't want to talk about it, I knew he knew. And I hated that he knew, because that meant he had experienced it, and I hated that it was something so personal that I didn't want to talk bout it to the one person who knew the best how it felt. There was always that undercover hate of pity. We didn't want to get pitied, but oh we wanted it so damn bad. After going through what we went through, damn right we should get some pity. And it's our God given right to complain about that well earned pity in any way we choose. Kelly was an expert at that, I envied his ability to do that too, I just wanted to sleep through the whole thing, he was able to say things that I wasn't able too sometimes.
And the drugs. The stupid, stupid, stupid messed up drugs. We forgot so much because of what they gave us. Chunks of memories just, don't exist...time that passed that isn't there. No record of living in time ...really screws with the mind. Because he started chemo earlier, he finished his rounds earlier and was out of the whole hospital thing pretty quick. Then I got out too. Then they found more tumors in his leg, and I went back for other things. Then I got out again, and he stayed. Sometimes I feel like I left him in the hell hole, my body trying to gain strength and succeeding slowly, where as his did that whole roller coaster thing and getting weaker. He was the master at looking healthy though. There were times I swear I knew he was feeling bad but I couldn't tell because he was sarcastic and hilarious like before. We were in the same boat. Or at least familiar ship mates, and I felt like me getting better left him there. It's not guilt, more like a yearning to pull him out too, or maybe jump in and try to push him out...or something. I don't know. I loved him. He was a buddy, trully a God given friend, he helped me through some thing. (unknowingly and knowingly) more than any of my other peers. And he... died this morning. I knew he was weak, and he really didn't have long to live, he was on hospice....but I just saw him...two months ago and he looked fine. I knew he wasn't actually fine..but he looked ok. When Robert died, it was a bit different because I had only known him for less than a year. But I actually...witnessed Robert dying in the ICU. And seeing him die numbed me in a way of: "Holy God, I just witnessed someone pass from this life." But Robert had really weakened...and was drawn out..Kelly had given his best...and was ready to stop feeling the deep, deep burning of pain. I knew Kelly so much more...he became one of my good friends...good friend. And I wasn't anywhere near him, I was sleeping. If I was awake I would have been worrying about my upcoming french test. And he died.
I haven't cried, I want too, but I don't want too. I want too...because I haven't in a long time, and he deserves some goddamn tears. I don't want too because a part of me is in denial. And I hate saying that too because I take reality pretty fucking seriously. I've only known for four hours, so this is going to soak in some more before I go to his funeral in two weeks.

Kelly is dead. May he rest in beautiful peace. God rest his tired soul.
He is no longer here.

what the FUCK. How can he be fucking dead. fuck.fuck. Fuck.
Fuck. Shit. Fucking shit. shit. shit. shit.

That said, I would like to tell all of you. While I am in this mood that life isn't to be wasted. You hear that? Do not waste your life. Because too many loose theirs prematurely and unfairly for you to go fucking around wasting it some little thing or another. Make big plans, and then grab them by the throat and look 'em in the eye. If your the type who likes to be nice, then maybe warn your goals before you grab them, but grab them, or grab them nicely. Smile, because days may come when you'll wish you smiled more, or you might have forgotten what smiling felt and looked like. Pursue those you love and viciously guard the ones who love you. Don't do you dare stop loving. There's enough anti-loving feelings out there for you to stop loving when your perfectly capable of loving with all you are. Get mad. Get mad at things that wish to destroy love. Respond to it with all the fiery love you've got, and that hateful thing will back down. Do not ever abandon God. You abandon God and you will dry up like a frog trapped in a glass bottle in the sun. He provides love that will flow through you. Get mad at God every now and then. If you don't fight with the creator of all, every now and then, then you don't have a relationship or a friendship. Friends get mad and disagree because they know whatever they say, the other person will still love them and if you can't be honest or open with God, like anger deserves, then you don't have anything real with him. Like right now.
How the fuck can you put Kelly through all that pain only to lead him up to You? Huh God? Why allow such a thing?
I KNOW...I know why. But YOU have certain obligations and promises to fulfill that You yourself set down in the first place. I know we don't deserve happiness or a good life, but that much pain? It resonates all around too. You know the affects of one person's suffering. For Christ sake, Jesus' suffering has changed reality, how can you still allow such deep suffering to surround and envelope one person, and then swallow him whole?

"I am old now and have not much to fear from the anger of the gods, I have no husband nor chid, nor hardly a friend, through whom they can hurt me. My body, this lean carrion, that still has to be washed and fed and have clothes hung about it daily with so many changes, they may killy as soon as they please... The succession is provided for. My crown passes to my nephew.
Being, for all these reasons, free from fear, I will write in this book what no one who has happinees would dare to write. I will accuse the gods, especially the god who lives on the Grey Mountain. That is, I will tell all he has done to me from the beginning, as if I were making my complaint of him before a judge. But there is not judge between gods and men, and the god of the mountain will not answer me me. Terror and plagues are not an answer. I write in Greek as my old master taught to me." -First paragraph from "Till we have faces" by C.S. Lewis

to everyone else, please pray for the moravec family,

and to my God and my Creator, I wait for your answer, I have made my claims and I will be silent. I love you Oh my Dearest Lord. And please forgive me when I say, I fucking hate the things you don't do sometimes.

I will now, shut the fuck up.

September 2004-June 2005

2007-02-23T02:33:00.000-08:00

Job 7:11
"Therefore I will not keep silent;
I will speak out in the anguish of my spirit,
I will complain in the bitterness of my soul."

"When I lay these questions before God I get...a silent, certainly not uncompassionate, gaze. As though He shook His head not in refusal but waiving the question. Like, "Peace child; you don't understand.Yet."

I look at life through a tinted glass window. Seeing the world through permanent sunglasses. I see life darker, different.. I begin to forget what it once was like to live without the glasses. No one can see my eyes, cannot see me wince, laugh, cry and sigh. When i look into the mirror even i cannot see my eyes expression.
Today about 3:05 pm, Robert went home. One of the most profound and hard experiences I've ever lived through. You begin to wonder about life and everything which really matters as you watch someone take their last breaths and the how a disease like cancer can steal so much so quickly. Makes you begin to think Solomon wasn't so crazy in his writing of Ecclesiastes...
Please pray for the Knight family now as they mourn. God rest Robert's soul.
maybe i didnt want it.. what kind of plan is this where one must ..live..the word has become sour. is it really that selfist to not want to endure such? am i honoring you by living? because if i dont.. whats the point of me existing?
lying here in the dark..laying on my stressed out back i refect...and one thing comes to my mind "rest rest rest rest rest rest"
not exactly a sleeping rest..just more of an all around rest..rested body, mind and soul..
Had a good day today! Woke up early and shadowed someone around at King's Academy Highschool. Was a bit taken back by how open kids were there, but there's obvious strong ties among the juniors (most of them haven been there awhile now) ..I just dislike how long its going to take me to befriend some of them to a point where they're GOOD friends. We'll see.
at the last supper Jesus took the brussel sprouts said "take eat this will put hair on your chest"
im sick and tired of walking on my crutches,
im sick and tired of being around my parents..no matter how wonderful they are,
im sick and tired of my body stabbing me in the back with one problem after another,
im sick and tired of having very very *very* few peers to vocal my complaints too.. emphasis on VOCAL,
im sick and tired of my life right now.
oh! lastly.. im sick and tired of trying not to be scared as hell.
a little song i learned in kindergarten:
theres a hole in my bucke!t dear liza! dear liza! theres a whole in my bucket dear liza a hole!
...then fix it! dear henry! dear henry! dear henry! then fix it dear henry! dear henry fix it!
with what shall i fix it? dear liza! dear liza! with what shall i fix it dear liza? with what?....and thats where i end
boring old song..
I'm restless..terribly restless...very very restless. I miss my friends. My soul is very restless. I feel it shaking.. God's made His point...why can't He leave me at that.
I am making absolutely no sense whatsoever. Just like my life..coincidence? nah..just a pattern.
*sing* surgery..surgery...lalalalala surgery!
i was in so much pain i had to come home. even with valium, vicodine and morphine IR (instant release...quick acting) on board...normally this would knock out any old normal person...though ive built up some sort of weird immunity for these drugs :/ ..so tuesday wasnt so good..
BLAH! PEOPLE...BLAH!
well right now, living life by ear as i blindly stumble around in the darkness. I'm sorry i cant write all the details.. its all so complex and elaborate.. and overall annoying. like a rubics cube. cept its got a lot more sides and its in the hands of God.. :/ kind of changes things a bit...
blame it on doctors who treat me somewhat like a lab rat.
why is there dried blood under my thumbnail? ive decided that i wont write about yesterday....main reason because it was a horrible day that i dont want to remember or discuss.
drugs drugs drugs
out there, over the next hill.. on the other side of the fence, the dreamy of a place where the grass is supposed to be greener.. i will find peace, ill be satisfied with life like i once was. or maybe i'll find peace when i die..
ive always imagined death to be like the moments just before i go to sleep. I'm tired, but holding on to those few moments of day.. then im ready, i lay down and i think "ahh.. time to rest"
The heart has its reasons whereof reason knows nothing
how true is that.
so. I'll be officially tapered off the narcotics on monday...cept for valium..which i can stop anytime prolly cuz im ..like immune to it now.
dont want any old friends seeing me in this state, hopeless is a good word..i think, but words never fully grasp real emotions, they merely are able or try to catch the shadow or edge of the real emotion behind it..hey im on drugs give me a break if im rambling...or you can credit me with the ability to keep a sharp mind while on drugs and stll be philosophically mysterious ..you choose!
back from my "mission" code named 'hurt-a-lot'
stupid stupid stupid..I want to go home. where is home?
no im feeling more like someone attacked me with a salted chainsaw. How happy, i think ill leave you with that beautifully graphic image.
"Sponge Bob is popular among adult gay men "
-back from hell
Valium and Lorset is what im taking now that im at home..two days ago i was on Morphine and Ativan too. the pain was ridiculous whenever i moved...im just hoping that for the next to weeks as im compromising situation that things will get better... the time i spent in the hospital was horrible and i wish i could erase it from my memory.
well am ready for the surgery tomorrow..just think blank just think blank..or God ye! just think God just think God...lol
omething about st patricks day that i love...but i have to be in the mood..dressed green, big dinner meal etc...oh and i was just told that it happened two days ago.. :/ well im much better after my major surgery..and last minute surgery... ok not much better...but im ok :)
physically im ok ..getting better...things might actually be starting to work for me..
emotionally wise i think my soul wouldnt mind playing russian roullet
thankfully i have a lot of self control, and not many people to play that hideous game.
...so yea today's Easter.
He is rissen! He is rissen indeed.
Eat chocolate to celebrate the defeat of Satan and the breaking of our chains, which were bound to damnation, but are now free.
he building again to see if the guy was back..he was..so i talked... what it was..a commericial/fund raising for families who have a kid with cancer and are financially burdened...think they'll start airing on
"mix 106.5" radio station..
so yeah..its official ..i had a bad day :/
its like im going back into the PACU (post anesthesia recovery unit for you non-hospital dwelling folks) tomorrow..we dont know if its going to involve OR (operation room/surgical room..whatevr)..prolly not but im going to make sure that i have some meds onboard to knock me out if i dont...
....i really wouldn't mind all this medical stuff ..if i wasn't a teenager and that im stuck watching other teens live out their lives in a fashion I think i deserve. See here's where my plain anger and beliefs clash.
Ahhh the smell of wet pavement. It's raining..
I'm getting better! feeling OK...just hope it continues this way..i might start taking lessons at Kings school..if so-im thinking of starting a blog about that which you can read all about this School i hopefully will attend and graduate my junior year at.
Unknowing where my home is, i have figured it out. My home is where God's will is. My home is not found on any physical plane but in spirit. Though it far from feels that way sometimes, the sooner i acknowledge that, the more freedom i will experience.
i change my clothes..get into the skimpy gross way out of style hospital rags...get my height/weight/blood pressure all checked.....then i lie in a gurney..they poke a needle into me, flush me with saline and then i wait. wait wait wait (this is based on experienced..very rarely do are they ready for me) meanwhile ill be listening to my ipod..or not..think its not been charged or i dont know where it is...anyways..then they give me versed and phentonal and then POOF 15 hours of my life is erased and stolen cuz i cant remember what happened. which is good...but id still rather not have to do this at all in the first place..but eh..why not...so..then im in the recovery unit....3 East for a week...to 10 or more days ..who knows
.i dont know what shape ill be in when i come out of the Operation Room ...toodles and hopefully talk to you all later
I am going to test a hypthesesis. That my life is pretty lousy and this is due to the pain which constantly poisons me. It will start today and at the end of each day I will write about how the day went and the little details and thoughts that occured.
well the vycodine helps a whole lot even though its super powerful, though i think i can keep my mind together enough to stay awake..other than that powerful pain drug its been really hard, just..living right now and healing at the same time. My emotions are scattered, or some dr psychologist might say..actually their not scattered..their pretty organized, just their not all really optimistic, which is bad because im an optimist. Lord have mercy
Day of foggy dwelling thoughts.
-scars
Learning to walk involves bearing the fall
so im not going to be going to turkey or any other place..for that matter..i learned yesterday...and now im going to talk w/ the docs bout tomorrow morns surgery...so..toodles :)
i wont be going to realy high school either this year... ill be doing school with the great teachers at the hospital
How do you justify unruly fury out of naked embarrasement against the creator?
How does one make case against the ruler of everything? How to plead in shouts full of anger, hate of confussion againts love?
How to deal with feelings parallel to bloodlust and revenge, against a role model, hero?
These are the questions which linger in the air, making my life bittersweet. If I knew the answers, life would have no meaning.. and since I don't know the answers.. life hurts.
darkness defines light to us humans. such a pity. such a shame.
so much do we all take for granted.. so much did i use to take for granted, only to find out-too late how i did not appreciate it.. just basic things.. things that are needed to live.
lex orandi lex credendi
"how you pray is how you believe".. if you want that to make sense you could just say "how you worship defines what you believe" ..ive mulled over this quite a bit, and its amazing how true the sentence is.. another thing which ive thought about.. is that God puts me through trials just to increase my faith in Him. That I should onto Him not merely for a reward, but that I should look at it from a different perspective. My walk with Him should not be defined as a journey from point A to point B but as a walk from that has no specific destination. that sounds to darn vague and unspecific.. which i dont like to be.. even though I DO like talking in carousel analogies.

Psalms 8
O LORD , our Lord,
how majestic is your name in all the earth!

You have set your glory
above the heavens.
From the lips of children and infants
you have ordained praise [2]
because of your enemies,
to silence the foe and the avenger.

When I consider your heavens,
the work of your fingers,
the moon and the stars,
which you have set in place,
what is man that you are mindful of him,
the son of man that you care for him?
You made him a little lower than the heavenly beings [3]
and crowned him with glory and honor.

You made him ruler over the works of your hands;
you put everything under his feet:
all flocks and herds,
and the beasts of the field,
the birds of the air,
and the fish of the sea,
all that swim the paths of the seas.

O LORD , our Lord,
how majestic is your name in all the earth!

It was very good.

2007-02-06T02:44:00.000-08:00

Genesis 1:31, 2:1-3

And God saw everything that he had made, and behold, it was very good. And there was evening and there was morning, the sixth day.

Thus the heavens and the earth were finished, and all the host of them.

And on the seventh day God finished his work that he had done, and he rested on the seventh day from all his work that he had done.

So God blessed the seventh day and made it holy, because on it God rested from all his work that he had done in creation.

2007-01-11T01:35:00.001-08:00

I think...I'm supposed to be a monk.

2006-12-31T16:12:00.001-08:00

"The tyrant has fallen!"

I believe those words, uttered at the hanging of Saddam, gives some gravity and depth to what happened.

excerpt from knights of cydonia by muse

2006-12-31T04:11:00.000-08:00

No one's gonna take me alive,
The time has come to make things right,
You and I must fight for our rights,
You and I must fight to survive,

No one's gonna take me alive,
The time has come to make things right,
You and I must fight for our rights,
You and I must fight to survive

Damn. with a royal capital "D"
Why was/has this word become something to be taken seriously? offensive?
Is it possible because it actually DOES something?
That to damn something, actually does that- "damn" it?
Because if it does, then I rightfully, righteously would damn the disease dubbed under the name of cancer.
I hate cancer because it has brought destruction to everything I see it touch.
I hope that cancer will become erradicated from society and not touch humanity. I was about to say innocent, but who knows who is innocent, we are all guilty of something or another, who can sift through and pinpoint what random cause and result domino affect was started by what sin.

I wish I could damn something, in fact I did, in writing. But I erased it.
Should I be doing something I am ignorant of.
Instead I counter curses with blessings.
I bless all those who are cursed, and I ask that the Lord G-d of Abraham, Moses, David and Jesus set free all those who are bound by the chains of sickness and meaningless of cancer. They have suffered, suffered, suffered.
I pray a blessings upon their soul and bodies that G-d may lavish on them healing and comfort.
I will this to come to pass in the name of Christ Jesus.

Const(ant)ellation

2006-12-25T02:44:00.000-08:00

Yes, Pegasus. Myths remember your name,
-the kick in your hooves, and wind in your mane.
Your radiant wings, and silvery hide,
Your galloping soar with spectacular stride.
Myths remember your days of living and flying,
we immortalize you with our stars and our writing

2006-12-22T02:51:00.000-08:00

NO!
NO!
NO!

I'm going through shock right now...a little bit of denial and a little bit of immense dissapointment in myself.
I worked for this grade, I worked hard. I did what was required, I tried my best.

God knows what He's doing, if He's doing anything at all.
I can't ...comprehend why!? I got this grade...I can't change it or anything...how..what...what

2006-12-22T02:24:00.001-08:00

Oh songbird, songbird, will she love me? will she care? Fly so far for me, fly on air...

Hummingbird

2006-12-16T00:15:00.000-08:00

floating with flitter
drink nectar sweet
from tubas and horns
from brass instruments pink

fast wings keep rhythm
with fast silent singing
performing with pulse
of theatrical dancing

feathers violently red
shimmer in flight
beneath colored shade
reflecting the light

a bearer of fire
of heaven's winged hues
deaf vision of lyre
heaven's meek Muse

2006-11-22T00:28:00.000-08:00

oh the majestic feeling of creativity to surge once again through the soul.

Song by Allen Ginsberg

2006-11-04T21:48:00.000-08:00

The weight of the world
is love.
Under the burden
of solitude,
under the burden
of dissatisfaction

the weight,
the weight we carry
is love.

Who can deny?
In dreams
it touches
the body,
in thought
constructs
a miracle,
in imagination
anguishes
till born
in human--
looks out of the heart
burning with purity--
for the burden of life
is love,

but we carry the weight
wearily,
and so must rest
in the arms of love
at last,
must rest in the arms
of love.

No rest
without love,
no sleep
without dreams
of love--
be mad or chill
obsessed with angels
or machines,
the final wish
is love
--cannot be bitter,
cannot deny,
cannot withhold
if denied:

the weight is too heavy

--must give
for no return
as thought
is given
in solitude
in all the excellence
of its excess.

The warm bodies
shine together
in the darkness,
the hand moves
to the center
of the flesh,
the skin trembles
in happiness
and the soul comes
joyful to the eye--

yes, yes,
that's what
I wanted,
I always wanted,
I always wanted,
to return
to the body
where I was born.

2006-11-04T03:09:00.000-08:00

i want to create beauty. i selfishly think i can confine it and claim it for myself.
but of course, i can't and fail. beauty is intelligent, it'll love on it's own accord.

The Tyger by William Blake

2006-10-28T00:52:00.001-07:00

taken from the book Innocence and Experience
The Tyger

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright,
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare sieze the fire?

And what shoulder, & what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,
And water'd heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

2006-09-21T21:42:00.000-07:00

I won't be posting my poems anymore. If you'd like to still read them, send me a quick email to:

stonedpenguins@gmail.com

requesting to read them, or comment here and give your email address.

i'll periodically post a poem..and then take it off when write a new one.

2006-09-17T02:06:00.000-07:00

I want to write books.

The Waking by Theodore Roethke

2006-09-14T04:17:00.000-07:00

I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.
I learn by going where I have to go.

We think by feeling. What is there to know?
I hear my being dance from ear to ear.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

Of those so close beside me, which are you?
God bless the Ground! I shall walk softly there,
And learn by going where I have to go.

Light takes the Tree; but who can tell us how?
The lowly worm climbs up a winding stair;
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

Great Nature has another thing to do
To you and me; so take the lively air,
And, lovely, learn by going where to go.

This shaking keeps me steady. I should know.
What falls away is always. And is near.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I learn by going where I have to go.

Tacit Sorrow

2006-09-11T02:45:00.000-07:00

Wake up at dawn.
Do not drift.
Scratch the yawn,
and drink the mist.

Don't knock on water,
or spit on stone.
They baptize water,
you'll fall on stone.

Lie down in riverbed,
on mud below.
The brown leaves mingle,
with grey minnow

Trickling brook,
green fern and wet lily.
Tickling brook.
Dragon fly lazy.

Burning air,
reflecting sol.
Murky glare,
untill nightfall.

Distant quiet.
Chirping frog.
Croacking cricket.
Silent fog.

Lichen red rock.
lays beside green reeds.
Your chewing stalk,
while tending weeds.

Soundless lament.
Raised up to dark sky.
Muffled whispers,
whistle why.

Athena

2006-09-09T00:42:00.000-07:00

mossy hair
empty eyes
empty stare
marble thighs

naked tenure
stand up straighted
hidden figure
status faded

a white toga worn
across ancient chest
agora forlorn
by time and conquest

carved to guard
temple pagan
not unscarred
quiescent maiden

Anonymous

2006-09-08T03:42:00.000-07:00

As for the sun, its brightly lit.
Proudly beaming as would befit.
It rules eight planets with might gaze,
and creates time with months and days.

Flint (For the Unemployed and Underpaid) by Sufjan Stevens

2006-09-07T19:33:00.000-07:00

It's the same outside
Driving to the riverside
I pretend to cry
Even if I cried alone

I forgot the start
Use my hands to use my heart
Even if I died alone
Even if I died alone

Since the first of June
Lost my job
And lost my room
I pretend to try
Even if I tried alone

I forgot the part
Use my hands to use my heart
Even if I died alone
Even if I died alone
Even if I died alone
Even if I died alone
Even if I died

2006-09-06T01:53:00.000-07:00

We do not write because we want to; we write because we have to.
- W. Somerset Maugham

2006-08-29T02:56:00.000-07:00

Ladies are the best inventions since willow trees.

Love Poem 0.1

2006-08-28T00:35:00.000-07:00

Let me paint you a picture.
Let me paint your sky.

We can be innocent.
We can by shy.

We live like the wheat stalks.
Ripe green-then dry.

We can live simple.
Untill the goodbye.

We can live richly.
Untill we die.

I'm not afraid.
I don't really care.

If we're there for each other.
We can live off the air.

If we're there for each other.
We can live anywhere.

You are my love,
my darling affair.

You are my love,
my constant prayer.

Very impressed with the capable and stylish manner in which you dealt with that situation.

2006-08-26T01:51:00.000-07:00

I apologize from the beginning,
for this poem's rather unbefitting

Head tilted in shrugging.
Eyebrows in question.
Your character sparkling,
not lacking gumption.

Your dresses all are fancy black.
You know they sing, paint it black.
(Put one on and-)
Dance! To timeless melodies,
oldies music with "Love you France!"

Captivating poise and laugh,
Thought full, amused, an intense paraph.

Norma Jeane awe and Siciliy.
You'll visit the latter with bold reverie.

Oh blue eyed, blonde, Miss american pie,
You're a charming lady, take care, goodbye.

Exhale

2006-08-26T00:59:00.000-07:00

These are the old days-
the drumming days,
soaked with fear.

Photographic white curtains,
outline dark clothed villains,
who's intentions are clear.

Legions of shadows-
descend between marrows,
brightening the mornings each year.

But not today,
not so anymore.

For the glory of smoke-
like a sickening joke,
is realization of life so dear.

Little Church by Donovan

2006-08-22T20:38:00.000-07:00

If you want your dream to be,
take your time go slowly.
Do few things but do them well,
heartfelt work grows purely.
If you want to live life free,
take your time go slowly.
Do few things but do them well,
heartfelt work grows purely.

Day by day,
stone by stone,
build your secret slowly.
Day by day,
you'll grow too,
you'll know heavens glory.

On shore

2006-08-22T01:46:00.000-07:00

Stark beauty clashes with ocean serene,
a young girl cries while waters careen.
Her kness to her chin wrinkling her dress,
she sits ankle-deep in sands, a mess.

Oh twisted world! Colors bright.
Red green yellow distorted sight.

Thinking, crowds this silk covered soul,
Sobbing quietly while droplets unroll,

Don't cry for me-
tears glisten and shine.
Your face is soft,
a freckled sunshine.

Black mascara,
red tipped lips,
innocent eyes,
search lonely ships.

Pretty. Wild. Raven hair!
-or perhaps its golden fair?

Seagulls mumble on white crest,
dont bother her, let her rest.
Salty spray and coming night,
gaze upon peach ripe moonlight.

A bark strewn beach,
white waves crash on.
An old letter leash,
a sad lover yawns.

Sink. Close your eyes,
the tide's pulling out.
Dreams are allies,
forever devout.

Glass bells will ring in ballroom walls!
Pianos playing outside coral halls.
The orchestra booms,
the notes drift and wait.
Bridegroom-you'd have been,
and I your first mate.

Silently Abandoned

2006-08-20T15:16:00.000-07:00

I laugh
I cry
I scramble and sigh

This whole past year
darkness did rear
its overwhelming presence
right into my essence

feeding off my own soul
not knowing the toll
not knowing how I'd survive
or where I'd arrive

The darkness surrounds, below and above
I mumble and search, but I can't find the love

-Written May 28 2005

Always something.

2006-08-18T03:03:00.000-07:00

Nuances are always
everything or nothing.

You should look for them always,
don't be aiming at nothing.

A head nod sideways,
a voice tone failing.

A glance upraised,
a silent chuckling.

Flatter and flirt,
grinning and blushing.

Sinfull in the eyes of our Lord.

2006-08-13T03:56:00.000-07:00

God bless the kittens, dying of disease.
God bless all children, crying with please.

We all are tired, ready to stop.
Some of us don't know yet,
still on the rooftop.

God bless the broken down, old man.
God rest his mind from crusty bedpan.

How we grow old, painfully aware
our young vigor bodies, loose their flair.

God bless the poor, the hungry, confused.
The oppressed, depressed, angry, abused.

Bless us all-for we all are small.

To the idea of my Grandad

2006-08-12T01:48:00.001-07:00

I have no power over your soul or how it rests, I wish we could have met, I wish you could have commanded my awe and respect. You are gone. A victim of disease. It is foolish to say I revere a ghost that exists no more. But I do, and I appreciate all you have done for me and my family. With a heavy heart I have to acknowledge that I probably will never meet you.

2006-08-12T01:48:00.000-07:00

1. Never tell everything at once.
- Ken Venturi

Ode to misty Autumn Groundhog

2006-08-05T02:34:00.000-07:00

anything but mundane
simplicity at its finest

gliding and soaring on this feeling
desperately keep this going

come up from my hole
the music was true!
the sun is here!
my shadows gone!
my love is near.

Nurturing Hands

2006-08-04T23:31:00.000-07:00

Voluntary caretaker
guarding my condition
the stakes would grow higher
with health falling in fashion

You punctured and poked
apologizing in smiles
I anxiously joked
forgiving with styles

I appreciated the subtle love
(so obvious at times)
I owe a great deal to your gentleness
(indeed I was spoiled)
I am indebted to such polite manner
(and I know)
With a little help from above
(I'm sure)
If you'll forgive my bluntess
(but)
You defeated my cancer.

Roundabout

2006-07-31T00:42:00.000-07:00

caught between middle ground
unexpected, unprepared

captured and spellbound
taunted and scared

by subjects and object I cannot unveil
I am not ready to explain my tale

yet here I am, ranting away
hoping somehow I'm making headway

Eauty.

2006-07-27T02:28:00.000-07:00

Radiohead's song, Creep contains the lines "your skin makes me cry." I always feel weak when I hear those words.

I love taking in beauty. I love being able to capture it and holding it captive. Whether that be in the form of words, of song or feelings, it matters not. I love being able to hold it, suspended in the air and observe the tenacious strenth glowing from within it. The curious rich culture behind every note and word is delicious. To breath in the rhythm of triumph as it breaks the fragile silence and emptiness. To feel, to experience an emotion conquer void apathy is an ever constant encouragement to my spirit. To feel passion, is like a surging inverted waterfall, a waterfall of fervor, fervor of ferocious satisfaction. The satisfaction of finally taking sight of your desire. The releasing of beauty has an effect on everything around it. Real beauty, when released, is like throwing sunflower seed into a world composed entirely of newspapers folded into origami shapes. If its a true sunflower seed, it will burn down everything around it, and then grow. Grow into beauty, brightening everything. Enlightening and glowing.

First day of being an adult. Took long enough.

2006-06-18T01:49:00.000-07:00

Let me take a whack at it.
You ever have a feeling? and it touches something in you and you are suddenly.. like struck by lightening (so to speak) and you wish so badly to capture that feeling, put it in a cage, to look at it later? Or maybe you want to conjure up a feeling, you are successful and you suddenly feel the need to say something to somebody about how you feel and about that certain thing.

I feel a bit of both.

I'm eighteen. Yeesh, sounds unreal. I suppose I could feel glad? or something.
actually. screw it. I'm going to write to myself now. tread softly with your comments, excuse my words for they do not care about you.

I was just going over this blog and I wrote some pretty darn good posts when I was in physical pain/emotional struggle/loneliness. I tried to write my heart out, in a lot of places. I was not in good shape was I? I was probably depressed, clinically, I'm not sure, I don't want to find out. But then again, I might have not been.

Ok. So my writings were born out of struggle with God over pain and His connection to it all. Now, I don't have the pain, and therefore should keep my little trap shut. Complaining outright sounds lame, but if you make a plea, if its polite and if the peanut gallery can relate to it, then its applauded and is upheld as pure gold. Cloth your hate with empathy and crafty accusations.

Right now I wish, I wish, I wish. That's about all I do. I wish and pray about my wishes.
and I wait.
I'm going to a community college next year. I didn't know I was going to it untill ..december. Normaly people start planning their college two years in advance. That is what I hate. I like planning my life, I like knowing which direction will lead this to that to this to that. Everybody likes that. To have security?
Right now, I feel a great absence of security. Of selfish security that is. Security that I can plan my own plans and they'll take me somwhere, instead (and I can say this with confidence) I have security that God's going to take me where He wants me to go. He's got some great plan for my life yes yes yes..
It involves the occasional move here, move there, cancer, oops surgery mistake, oops 4 months of something hell for you, oh look! american school, culture shock and this that and the other thing.
I lived it. It's done. It's not the end of it..haha no..bloody hell no. That what scares me, thats what forces me into the wings of God. I feel trapped, fooled almost into putting my trust in God. If I don't I know its going to be worse, and if I do, well it still will be bad, but I'll have some extra emotional support. Why do I hate this? Because I can't change these things or control the bad things that happen to me, I'm forced to deal with them strongly because I know thats the best hope for me to face..another struggle. I'm not responsible for the crap that happens to me, or I feel like I'm being punished because I live in a sinful world, but then, hey, wait, everyone around me isn't being punished like this, or if they are, their doing worse than me...what the fuck?

Before the osteo happened to me. I could look at people breakdance and think its cool. Now the main thought that goes through my mind, even if its slowly dulling away, is..."I will never be able to do that." I might have never tried to breakdance before I had osteo, but the thought and confidence that I would be able to breakdance a little if I just learned, was there. Now, I cannot even think it, it is impossible for me to attempt the windmill. Someone might say, well, so what, it's just breakdancing. Yeah, it is just breakdancing, and its about all the things which force me to look even more physically different. The general underlying myth in everyones mind is, "the more different you are from someone, the less desirable you are". At the least, at first sight. This makes meeting new people pretty hard, since the first thing they see is the person, theyve got yet to know you you.
I'm not looking for pity in the shape of "aw" , I'm looking for it in the shape of "ah".

Before I started school in october.. Number two and three inflicted me ever since chemo started in december 2003. The whole time, untill march 2006 ive been feeling number 1
1)Stupid God, why pick on me? Again? Ok, sorry, but I'm just.. lost.

2)I can get through this. Actually, I don't really care if I get through this. I think I'll just concentrate on watching the next simpsons episode.
to..
3)I feel good. Its all good. It's ok if things are bad, it definitely could be worse. hm..that just happened. well, I know for a fact, that this pain will eventually stop. That I will be able to sleep. With sleep comes relief.

Now, I'm just.. living..trying not to think..too much. Except now You know what God? I'm going to try and control a lot of things in my life. I want you to intervene as much as possible. But pleeaasse.. keep crap from hitting me. Some rest please? Can this be my "sleep and relief period"?
I'm not totally reeling from shock from hitting that life changing glacier..but the effects are still huge, visible, and bleeding.

I'm returning to a semi-normal state. As much as is possible for a person like me. In a lot of ways I have...and I actually don't need comfort.
I'm trying to document what I'm going through, subconsiously a lot.

From another viewpoint, I've found my journey so far.. fascinating. I have a total unique fucked up life that not many people can claim to have led. In a lot of ways it actually wasn't that fucked up, in some ways.. its dead on. I am using that word just to drive home the fact that there was enough shit to deserve the title. But, I also led a life. I'm comfortable and proud of that. I've led a life that deserves the title "Life". It's got all the elements to make a great story because its unbelievable in so many ways.
So.. I like my unique and screwed up life. I like being me. I've learned a lot.. and I'm not dead so I have more things to accomplish and see and influence..hopefully my purpose.
and sometimes, I honestly like being in the shade of the tree. Under the protection of the master of the universe. My purpose..to praise Him in everything I do..to be glad and satisfied.

On that note. Congratulations. You've withstood a personal therapy session.

hava nagila hava...venis mecha
hava neranena..

Teen and Eight

2006-06-17T02:54:00.000-07:00

The mingling of sounds or words in any form or contortion can not express this spirit in full.
Upon this birthday morn, I do know that I have come pretty far and I hope I will go farther.
I recognize a part of myself, I can recognize sources of ideas and feelings from within myself.
I am still afraid of pain and its effects.
I am not afraid of death.
I know my limitations and capabilities but I do not know how far I should push them.

I go over certain events which have wrecked hell on me and my being and I will say "If that hadn't happened, I could have taken over the world by now" ..but then I will second guess myself and pose my stronger feeling "If that handn't happened I would have been pretty pathetic compared to now"

Now, how far do I push? how much do I wish?

Do I push for God, do I wish for heaven? Lasting wisdom, guidance and fellowship?
Do I push for riches? No, a convenience for sure, I've been pampered most of my life. If I could only get rid of those shackles, I would feel so much more free'er.
Do I wish for fame? pffff
Friendships? For sure, this is a bonus that I believe will come with guidance from the Father.
Power? Yes. I do wish for power. Spiritual power. Power of self-control and alertness.
Love? I cannot live without it. I yearn for it, as it says in psalms: As the deer pants for water. (even if its an analogy for yearning for God)

I'm begining to like this damned journey of purpose, it can be very refreshing and, sometimes, suprising.

The Ever Superior Beatles

2006-05-29T13:34:00.000-07:00

Here is one example:

Californian Girls by The Beach Boys
(the first two verses)

Well East coast girls are hip
I really dig those styles they wear
And the Southern girls with the way they talk
They knock me out when I'm down there

The Mid-West farmer's daughters really make you feel alright
And the Northern girls with the way they kiss
They keep their boyfriends warm at night

Back in the USA by Chuck Berry

Oh well, oh well, I feel so good today,
We touched ground on an international runway
Jet propelled back home, from over the seas to the u. s. a.

The Beatles took these two songs and said "pff.. we can improve on this, lets give them some (their British so they have that witty gland that most americans lack) competition and they came up with

Back in the U.S.S.R

Flew in from Miami Beach BOAC
Didn't get to bed last night
Oh, the way the paper bag was on my knee
Man, I had a dreadful flight
I'm back in the USSR
You don't know how lucky you are, boy
Back in the USSR, yeah

Been away so long I hardly knew the place
Gee, it's good to be back home
Leave it till tomorrow to unpack my case
Honey disconnect the phone
I'm back in the USSR
You don't know how lucky you are, boy
Back in the US
Back in the US
Back in the USSR

Well the Ukraine girls really knock me out
They leave the west behind
And Moscow girls make me sing and shout
They Georgia's always on my my my my my my my my my mind

Oh, show me round your snow peaked
mountain way down south
Take me to you daddy's farm
Let me hear you balalaika's ringing out
Come and keep your comrade warm
I'm back in the USSR
Hey, You don't know how lucky you are, boy
Back in the USSR
Oh, let me tell you honey

------
Haha. Do you know what a Balalaika is?

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Image:Balaika%2C_Nordisk_familjebok.png

Phantasy lessons

2006-05-23T22:36:00.000-07:00

Elaborate an intricate explanation of your dreams,
write them down on parchment clean:

-Read them over,
weave them over,
onto fabric.
Around your shoulder.

-Scarf and shawl,
theyll keep you warm.
On stormy nights,
don't let them tear.

Yes, they hurt, they go to far.
Mend them, kiss them,
don't just not care.

Hopes and wishes,
Daze and fancy.
The day will come when you will share.

Grinning all the way

2006-05-22T00:31:00.000-07:00

If it were simpler
I'd be too bored to bother

If it were harder
I'd stand up and quit

Give me your best
I'll match you and raise you

Your smile makes me smile
I'm probably not going to win here

I'm going down
Grinning all the way

swans in ponds

2006-04-09T00:12:00.000-07:00

elephant man just wants to live
he just wants to live in his own capacity

tell me, oh electronic servant
where can i find my next ordeal?
the next amusement ?
the next excitement?

swans in concrete man made ponds
piano keys- notes that fade
the waters green- the air is stuffy
a silent breeze that takes the edge away

..enough with sentimentality
dream me a reality
set me free from these chains
id like to walk round a corner
without hearing my own requiem
played by my own, very own
mind tune orchestra

rain
on this brigade
under this sky
too many words that rhyme with sky
fly, try, my, sigh, die, nigh

night
it snows
its black
and i listen to a piece of track
thats raw
it leaves an impression
of dry whole grain bread
thats fallen in dirt
but your too hungry to care

back to my symphony
you didn't think i was crazy
untill you listened to these stringed words
rose gardens and salvation from land tied together at the bottom
of those concrete ponds made by men

men who invented those bright shiny lights
which command and entertain
brodcasted by signals from stations
connecting most of us while stuffing others
into boxes

like the guy who cleans the ponds
who feeds the swans
like the guy who feels for
the elephant man

its gone around
this is your thrill

world events 2006 and beyond -minus famines and disasters

2006-03-07T23:31:00.000-08:00

goto

here to read what i wrote

lamentations

2006-02-21T03:21:00.000-08:00

rag doll rag doll why do you lie in that corner?
torn and old you were once something

you can not know me fully
how can you since even i am at loss
of why I'm here?

swallows possess the power to fly away
but what if his wings were crushed and beaten
he'd be stuck limping across ground
slowly dying untill hes eaten
by crows

for sake of mercy, why do beggers moan?
i dont dare tie this mess of words together
nor form or flowing, strewn they are flung

enough to try but not to finish
im not apart of what you see

exclamation of blooming

2006-02-08T22:32:00.000-08:00

some verses of songs -praises to God

"you have caused flowers to grow in my fields and you have brought new and bright colors to my head"

"..and i rest here underneath your hands"

"you made all my deserts fill with gardens...you made all my deserts with gardens
you made all my ashes turn to beauty... you made all my ashes turn to beauty"

hebrews 11:1
Now faith is being sure of what we hope for, and certain of what we do not see.

i ask, humbly and unashamedly, for your blessings

2006-01-24T20:26:00.000-08:00

and yet

2006-01-17T21:17:00.000-08:00

glorious laughing
hallelujah, hossana, hossana to the highest.

same old same old

2006-01-16T22:00:00.000-08:00

whats the use of restating old problems? the grandeur of reviewing continuing, pressing pain? nothing, it seems that only person who doesn't get tired of it is God. Ive worn myself out ..again..and again with the same old same old.. ill stop telling people whats going on..because really.. who gives a after hearing the same story the 7'th time? how unique does the problem sound? not very unique.. in fact, it begins to look very sad and pathetic. Do i want to look sad and pathetic? haha..rhetorical dumb question
..it reminds me of that thing i learned somewhere, cant remember, school sometime. in the bible about the old lady who pestered the King with pleas..and finally the King answered her just to get her off his back.
yeah.. so taking that strategy with God, although it seems very impersonal often. Like talking to a stone door which follows me around.
Its unbelievably terrifying, life right now. It actually takes a lot different emotional straining than just being a patient trying to keep sane. When I'm sick, all I had to do, was keep a certain state of mind, occupy the immediate attentative mind.. and tolerate physical circumstances. Three things to do..and they become a habit. As for now..everything is interrelated to everything else. or so it seems. i dont really get a break to stand apart and think.. always sometime to do do do.
Always have to pick up the pace, improve improve improve.
I feel like.. for a lack of a better word, crap when going through the college match book...looking through all the things that is required of people, and i coincidentally was thrusted into the cancer world smack dab in the middle of my high school years. So as a result ..i suck in a lot of areas. My math is horrible, i never understood it correctly because i never got real proper foundation. My english grammar is horrible because i didnt..really..get tested on it..understand..or applied it when i learned it. My after school programs/clubs suck..because I didnt have oppurtunities. the list goes on..its much more easier complaining about generalities, that way my problems look worse than they might be. No, ha..thats not entirely true. theres just a lot more of problems I'm ashamed to talk about.
Then there are dilema's which relate to, or are a product of me going to school.. which are dilema's not problems... but take up a lot of thinking compacity, easier subjects to dwell upon.
No matter how hard I try-it doesnt add up. But its a sin to give up, so too bad.
there are a lot of endless circle of dooms, id write them all down in some desperate hopes that maybe theyll dissipate and float freely..but in vain.

blah blah ...bitter angst... blah blah blah.. i guess thats what im trying to say.. that..that would be the main thing to take away from this post.

yet.. in a bizzare freakish series events ive been blessed in ways that kinda snuck up on me. if your really curious.. email me..

right now would be a good time to end with a quote:

Perez: An old ass knows more than a young colt.

so all you old asses, please lend me your wisdom! :D

...hey at least i can write..or type. whatever.

Psalm 40 and life

2005-12-30T17:16:00.000-08:00

"He put a new song in my mouth, a song of praise to our God"

"Then I said, 'Behold, I come;
In the scroll of the book it is written of me. "

"Let those be appalled because of their shame
Who say to me, 'Aha, aha!'"

"Since I am afflicted and needy
Let the Lord be mindful of me.
You are my help and my deliverer;
Do not delay, O my God."

I think..this psalm is my favorite.. it involves singing, music..which i would deem is one of my favorite things in life and mourning, submitting a plea before the holiest of hollies.

it seems that i submit pleas before the Father, all the time, i cannot do anything without beggin for help. if only i could feel him there always. instead of having to feel panic.. i started with a LOT of thoughts.. this is what became of them.. not very satisfied.

Killing me softly

2005-12-07T22:00:00.000-08:00

maybe youve heard the song.. it has been sung by a couple of people.. most recently by lauryn hill and the fugees..
its a song that holds a lot of memories, i hadnt really thought about it so much. (surprised? hardly.. "something i hadnt thought about much till now, and now im going to write about it.. what an overused suject intro)

it might have a totally different meaning..but the beautiful thing about songs, is that you can take them and mold them to your situation in life.
right now, im re-adjusting to life here in america. performing the unforgivable act of losing myself in the culture so i can get situated. i basically loathed the thought of doing this exact thing, when living in turkey. ironic like a lot of things in my daily routine. im learning a lot of things constantly.. i hardly get the time to write them down too.
lates thing is that i feel used. overused. like a elmer's glue bottle (they have a cow on it..that looks like the cousin to the 'la vache qui rit' cheese) ..and the bottles almost empty and the glue is dry on the tip part.. and because its dry -you cant tell if theres any left.. and your trying to take the stuff off only to find you have to take the whole top off. frustrated? ye ..why? because elmer's glue bottles are usually so easy to use, arent designed to get all complicated and dry and empty and sticky and what-not..
yes. i feel like glue.. or no-more-left glue...i dont feel it all the time.. just, enough that it makes me feel ardent unsatisfaction (closest emotion to it)

me me me me me.. so repetitive
i wish i could write about ..poverty and desolation in asia/africa, but at the moment- i dont believe that writing on such a subject would change anything. plus, even though i think its horrible..it does not rise up emotions causing me to want to express
(insert guilt that should be felt)

i wana write more.. but i cant

Wisdom

2005-10-24T20:28:00.000-07:00

Simon was visited by his Aunt and Uncle along with his Grandparents evey day since awakening. Mrs. Macvey who was always with him, looked very stressed and Simon had never seen his mother so tired and emotional before. Along with relatives, a constant stream of doctors would visit him at random hours every day. He was gradually filled in on what had happened. About six months ago he passed out in the back of the car, his mom didn't notice untill they stopped at the hospital for his check-up. Simon winced when he heard this part, imagining his mom crying and thinking he was dead while the paramedics arrived. The whole ting sickened him. Emergency surgery was performed as quickly as possibly but the doctors didnt know if he could make it through the night. As he lay there in the PICU his pulse dropped dangerously low, and for a couple minutes the machines record show no pulse at all, and if that wasn't strange enough (this was where the doctors explaining this to him began to get confused and mumble) an unexplained fire broked out right outside his door. The fire damaged the life support machines and yet no one could explain how he was still living.
A couple of days later, he was visited by the hospital Psychologist. The doctor asked him a few questions on how he was doing, Simon explained that he was glad he was alive and was very confused. The short answer seemed to satisfy the psychologist, who seemed in a hurry, and so he hurridly told Simon that,
"If he ever wanted to talk, me or any other pyschologist are ready to listen."
Simon thanked him and he left.
That night he dreamed a peculiar dream. He was standing across from a person who had a mask of a fox on their head. The person evidently was a girl as she was also wearing a long red skirt. She drew close to him, took his hand and then turned to walk up a hill. He followed, mysteriously drawn to the girl. When they reached the top, the girl spread her hands to show him a valley. He looked and there was hundreds of silver and white figures fighting. When he looked closer, he noticed that the silver beings seemed to shine inheritly while the white ones were only white. He noticed that the war was being fought with medieval weapons, he could not see the faces of the silvers because of the brightness. As for the whites, they wore faces that seemed nice to look upon, for a second, and then it sent a chill down your spine and fear would strike. Simon turned towards the girl, searching a meaning only to find the mask not on her face. She had a straight brown hair and a young pretty face with freckles on her nose. Her eyes were the color of old green and brown, like wise seaweed. She leaned forward and whispered in his ear:
"Job once said 'The price of wisdom is above rubies'."
Then she kissed him on the cheek and he awoke in his hospital bed. More confused and at peace then he ever had been in his entire life.

2005-10-19T21:19:00.000-07:00

interesting
...
movie link removed due to corruption of the world

stupid land?

2005-09-30T01:38:00.000-07:00

your majestiy, i plead my case before you, the court of the heavens. i plead my case for the hundreth time.
what good are lungs if one cannot breath? what good are eyes if one cannot see? what good is life if it cannot be lived? unless this is a temporary punch in the stomach that will return to normal after a couple of deep breaths.. but would any normal person try to breath if they were not promised relief? im lost, utterly lost. i do not believe you could inflict such plague just for some lesson...some plan.. what kind of plan is this that one is tormented? that would make you a greek god, a roman god... a god who toys with his minnions for fun and amusement.. you are not that God. if you are there....which i know you are, please make it evident with some divine intervention.. some divine healing of my soul.. im like a near-dead tree found in the middle of a ghetto.. with string and plastic strewn around its branches which are cut and broken.
you promise flight with the eagles ..i feel like ive been bitterly betrayed, no help in sight..every hope of some recovery has been thrown to the ground and set fire too.. my troubles are too many to count, i try to cover my eyes and repeat to myself your promises.. but the hands that were covering now ache with no strenth left in them..why do you insist on me living in misery. indeed i am not even the worst, and i know it..there are no 'buts' or 'ifs'. my spirit will not admit defeat, i ask you. since you are with me, please show me whether if have been defeated, for then i will wait upon your swiftness.. if i have not been defeated.. then please save me. dear lord save me, because i cannot bare more.. you might think i can.. but anymore and my Will, will wane,,
im tired of pleading..when you will show me your pleasure?

mishalora bloakar piahglor miasom/mei?

infinnity, uncertainty

2005-09-04T02:32:00.000-07:00

the night before last I startled myself with a conclusion I dont think I'll share, and I dont know how to explain, anyways.. really. It actually makes what I know more beautiful, seemingly. :)

i sincerely hope that all i hold inside will be put too good use, made into song- or into story.. its all begining to be so old, im sad, im lonely..
waiting for that star dust person who wont care about things ive naught- who'll love me and help guide me, write stories- hold hands and listen to music.
or maybe im a monk whos destined to serve my Lord, bummer He cant hold my hand or whisper "everythings alright"

Crows

2005-08-26T23:17:00.000-07:00

i have a fascination with crows..i dont know why, maybe its because their thought as evil..what with the being european version of a vulture and always eating seeds on farms....i find myself attracted to them for some reason.. anyways here are some pictures i took from deviantart.com ..these are some pics which captured me, ablazed my mind..i feed off of images like this.. taking it in and then feeding back by weaving it like gold strands into a part of my story..
...
hehe..crows and a scarecrow

this one is called "Gaze" and rightly so.. just by staring at this i start thinking about who this person is and about their life..

lol this fits PERFECTLY into my story.. this is like fuel

another face..another life.. another story..

..more..

2005-08-18T01:49:00.000-07:00

Sonnet 116
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

dunno how i skimmed over and didnt see this one.. on Keira's advice looked it up. really really like this writing.

Shakespeare's Sonnets

2005-08-07T15:00:00.000-07:00

17
Who will believe my verse in time to come
If it were filled with your most high deserts?
Though yet heaven knows it is but as a tomb
Which hides your life and shows not half your parts.
If i could write the beaty of your eyes,
And in fresh numbers number all your graces,
The age to come would say "This poet lies,
Such heavenly touches ne'er touched earthly faces."
So should my papers, yellowed with their age,
Be scorned, like old men of less truth than tongue
And your true rights be termed a poet's rage
And stretched meter of an antique song:
But were some child of yours alive at that time
You should live twice, in it and in my rhyme.

18
Shall i compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of Maym
and summer's lease hath all too short a date.
sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;
And every fair from fair sometimes declines,
By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimmed;
BUt thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose ossession of that fair thou ow'st,
Nor shall Death brag thou wand'rest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st.
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

19
Devouring Time, blunt thou the lion's paws.
And make the earth devour her own sweet brood;
Pluck the keen teeth from the fierce tiger's jaws,
And burn the long-lived phoenix in her blood;
Make glad and sorry seasons as thou fleets,
And do whate'er thou wilt, wift-fotted Time,
to the wide world and all her fading sweets;
But i forbid thee one most heinous crime,
O, carve not with thy hours my love's fair brow,
Nor draw no lines there with thine antique pen.
Him in they course untainted to allow,
For beauty's pattern to succeeding men.
Yet do thy worst, old Time; despite thy wrong,
My love shall in my verse ever live young.

Point of Life

2005-08-03T02:57:00.000-07:00

God created life, earth, man- He created us to live in beauty. To live in simpleness and perfection-no need for meaning. But man decided he was not content, he yearned to live in perfection that was created by himself, not God. We live in a society where everything MUST have a meaning, a purpose, a point. Behind everything we do, inherent lies our will to create our own perfect surroundings. Sitting around wondering what the purpose of life is- is useless, waste of time. dumb.

i really am going crazy.

Music of the Night

2005-07-31T22:52:00.000-07:00

Simon woke up to the song of peace. Soothing, eternal peace flowing through his body. The song was not composed of sound but of something which no human would be able to explain. Opening his eyes, he noticed that it dusk with very little light filtering through the trees. As his vision adjusted he saw that he was staring at a shabily dressed, long haired horribly ugly man scattered his thoughts to the point where he would have screamed. Instead he found he could not utter a noise. He could hear no other sound besides the singing. Simon noticed the ugly man staring at him with concern.
"Do not be afraid, Simon, you are safe."
He heard the man speak but did not see his lips move and hundreds of thoughts rushed through his mind.
"Where am I."-"Whats with the music?" "I'm not afraid. Why aren't your lips moving? How do I hear you? Why are you holding me and who the hell are-"
"Calm yourself and your thoughts! I am Velaho and I stand in the presence of God. The music you are hearing are psalms and praises being sung to our LORD. This forest is a stronghold, an island in the sky, a sanctuary for souls who are in need of rest. I am holding you because your soul has been separated from your body and it would be dangerous for me to let go."
"Am I dreaming, what does thig guy mean by my body being separated from my body. Island, stronghold? This sounds familiar, he's saying almost the exacts same things Gabriel said to Mary. What the-"
"Calm yourself! Your thoughts are your words. Everything you think I hear."
Looking at Velaho this time, Simon said as if he were shrugging.
"Oh well, if I'm dreaming, I might as well play along. Sir Velaho what is thy command?
Velaho gave an exhasperated look to Emerlo and Breck both who were invisible to Simon. Breck had heard enough of the boys dubiety. A bright flash and he was clothed in white armour with shield in one hand and fire in the other. Simon gaped and was suddenly humbled. His mind rambled frantically.
"I am the LORD's servant. I will be silent. Dear God please forgive me. I will not doubt your messengers again."
A blur of colors and pitch black again. Simon opened his eyes to a hospital room. Joyous cries sounded around him as he opened his eyes. Familiar faces, family faces, a doctor smiling. A whisper in his ear.
"We are here and we stand in the presence of God."

champagne supernova by oasis

2005-07-12T22:13:00.000-07:00

lot of pain and discomfort this morning, really.. miserable..
wishing is miserable too..at least to me it hasnt been friendly
mmmm

How many special people change
How many lives are living strange
Where were you when we were getting high?
Slowly walking down the hall
Faster than a cannon ball
Where were you while we were getting high?

Some day you will find me
Caught beneath the landslide
In a champagne supernova in the sky
Some day you will find me
Caught beneath the landslide
In a champagne supernova
A champagne supernova in the sky

Wake up the dawn and ask her why
A dreamer dreams she never dies
Wipe that tear away now from your eye
Slowly walking down the hall
Faster than a cannon ball
Where were you when we were getting high?

Some day you will find me
Caught beneath the landslide
In a champagne supernova in the sky
Some day you will find me
Caught beneath the landslide
In a champagne supernova
A champagne supernova in the sky

Cos people believe that they're
Gonna get away for the summer
But you and I, we live and die
The world's still spinning round
We don't know why
Why, why, why, why

How many special people change
How many lives are living strange
Where were you when we were getting high?
Slowly walking down the hall
Faster than a cannon ball
Where were you while we were getting high?

Some day you will find me
Caught beneath the landslide
In a champagne supernova in the sky
Some day you will find me
Caught beneath the landslide
In a champagne supernova
A champagne supernova in the sky

Cos people believe that they're
Gonna get away for the summer
But you and I, we live and die
The world's still spinning round
We don't know why
Why, why, why, why

How many special people change
How many lives are living strange
Where were you when we were getting high?
We were getting high
We were getting high
We were getting high
We were getting high

tips on constructive criticism

2005-06-29T02:18:00.000-07:00

two posts ago..an anonymous person commented:
"You are a fruit cake. Boo hoo, your life is soooooo hard, you are sooooo different to everyone else... riiiiiight."

They claim I'm gay- as an insult more than a fact I'm guessing. hmmm..lame
"Boo hoo" -hehe this makes me always think of Casper the friendly ghost. Here it seems their trying to mock me. What a well thought through line.
"your life is so hard" -I would agree with them there
"your life is so different to everyone else" -again..nothing to argue about..'cept for the grammar thing there

Looking at this comment, then to analyze what kind of person who would write this. Someone who is hurt themselves, who is having a difficult time in life, and are not convinced that my problems are hard.. or not as hard as theirs.
God bless you and may he help you with whatever your problems may be, really. please.. if your going to comment at least come up with some good insults...and whoever you are. If you know me, dont post anonymous when mocking.. its cowardly..

some songs and then some

2005-06-22T00:05:00.000-07:00

stiil working on the next bit of the story.. i believe reading "out of the silent planet" gave me a good deal of fuel along with watching some movies- across the river kwai (dont ask me how this inspired me.. maybe on the humor side of it all.. especially with the british always saying things like "blast!" -"jolly good fun" "jolly good show", "madness!" etc.) independance day.. again i dont know how this exactly inspired me..

been listening to some songs.. i think its about time to change the music video on here...
good songs to listen to that can be related to drugs.. and are for listening to while your on them (for pure surgical reasons of course)-from best to least based on experience:
Staralfur by Sigur Rus
Yellow by Coldplay
Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds by The Beatles
Champagne Supernova by Oasis
Magical Mystery Tour by the Beatles
Yellow Submarine by The Beatles
Paranoid Android by Radiohead
Burn one Down by Ben Harper

dark

2005-06-13T01:39:00.000-07:00

im working on the next story bit dont worry.. i know basically whats going to happen, its just working it all out in my mind.

I love listening to music in the dark, late at night. After a shower, after a pain fight, just lie in bed, listen to music and let my mind, heart and emotions run around and mingle with my imagination. I can easily identify my emotions, right now I feel frustrated, hurt and lonely. Ye, I have friends who visit me, I love visiting and talking for however short amount of time, but it brings up things inside me which hurt. My struggles are different, not exactly more difficult, just different and I can try to understand theirs but they can't comprehend mine.

One of the songs I have, is very special to me. When I listen to it, I wish I could bannish all my problems and not have to deal with the petty drama and requirements that 'must' live through in this post-modern culture. It just makes me want to break down, cry and ..basically, just sing love to God.
It's the theme song to the movie 'Brother Sun Sister Moon' ..about St. Francis.

Brother sun and sister moon,
I seldom see you, I can't hear your tune;
Preoccupied with selfish misery.

Brother wind and sister air,
Open my eyes to visions pure and fair,
That I might see the glories around me.

I am God's creature, of Him I am part,
I feel His love awakening my heart.

Brother sun and sister moon,
Often I see you, I can hear your tune;
So much in love with all that I survey.

I am God's creature, of Him I am part,
I feel His love awakening my heart.

I long for the moment, when I am set free of the bonds of my physical life, so that I may be welcomed into the presence of God, for Him to scoop me up in an embrace, while whispering "well done my good and faithfull son"

Forest of violets

2005-05-31T00:23:00.000-07:00

Jolts of pain. Followed by flashes of nothingness overwhelmed Simon. His eyes burst open in bloodshot agony, screaming and writhing, he shouted into darkness. The darkness washed over his screams, tantalizing him, teasing him, echoing his screams. For it was not body which was tormented, but his soul. Again Simon felt the feeling of eternity encapsuled within a second. Time did not matter to him at that moment. All that mattered was salvation from the darkness which covered him, and the second he wished this, his panicking ceased. He was still being tormented, but he could block it out for one part of him to think, to listen, to act. Words came to his mind, and flowed from his heart.
"Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death."
Steel pierced him. He felt crushed. Yet he continued.
"I fear no evil for You are with me."
The darkness was stiffling now. No more did it just wash over him, he felt it struggling against him, trying to drown his words which were no longer screams, but truth.
"The LORD is my light and my salvation- whom shall I fear?"
To this, he heard an answer. The darkness rumbled, almost as if it was telling Simon to fear itself. In a last effort it rose against him. Simon began speaking in a tongue not his own, it flowed from his heart, in a song unlike any other.
"Sing to the LORD a new song, sing to the LORD, all the earth. Let the heavens rejoice, let the earth be glad. Let the sea resound, and all that is in it. Let the fields be jubilant, and everything in them. Then all the trees of the forest will sing for joy."
The darkness faded immediately to trees and green. Simon blinked and then began to cry, sprawled out on the ground.
He fell asleep. Breck and Emerlo were nearby to. Their clothes and appearances normal they gazed about them. Velaho placed the boys head into his lap and stroked his hair, whispering healing. The forest floor was covered with violets, which joined in song with Velaho.

2005-05-27T21:12:00.000-07:00

When I examine myself and my methods of thought, I come to the conclusion that the gift of fantasy has meant more to me than any talent for abstract, positive thinking -Einstein

how true are these words, for when I read, the tales and stories become alive, pieces of earth, water, flesh woven from thought- dancing around in my mind, soothing its woes and daily troubles. Binding me back together after being broken, I do not want to stop reading, I do not want to depart the world I have created in my mind. Yet I tire, and move on, for one cannot dwell on dreams alone. But when I do dwell to long, I find that when the dreams crumble that I am not prepared, vulnerable. Yes, fantasy is the best natural gift of abstract, positive thinking, but it also can destroy.
Conclusion: Fantasy- a natural drug inhibitted into our very soul. How very convenient.

Others

2005-05-22T11:24:00.000-07:00

The three guardians of the LORD crowded the small ICU room, and it was even more unpleasant with the nurse in the room too, as it is always uncomfortable to an angel for a human to move through their bodies. Velaho knelt beside Simon's body, Emerlo singing softly while his hands moved over different machine parts to make sure no accident occured. Breck stood in the doorway with his eyes looking towards the ceiling. Suddenly Breck's skin glowed brightly and his clothes burst into flames, in one hand was a shield and the other a saber. He grinded his teeth, and in a voice deeper than his own he growled,
"We have company."
Of course the minute Breck changed so had Vehalo and Emerlo. Velaho's rags had transformed into armor of light, sunbeams clothed his body and rushed around him like fireflies. Emerlo had grown another three feet and he too was burning. The description of their transformations is not quite explainable, they were not shiny, they were not sparkly and beautiful. They were light, vicious, ferocious light.
At first Breck had just seen one of the enemy. But now he saw that he was wrong, very wrong. Hundreds of white snakes like beings were moving towards their door, as they came closer the snake-beings also changed. They changed into angels with wings and white clothes. These angels formed a half circle around the room Simon lied in. Each of them drew their sword, and as they did, Breck glanced at Emerlo. Emerlo lifted his hands shooting a flaming blue shield around the room. The angels
who had drawn their swords suddenly turned grey they rushed towards the shield. The angels then transformed again. This time in to beasts, with a gnashing of teeth they screamed a blood curling yell. This time Velaho sadly looked upon the child as the room burst into flames. The hospitals fire alarm went off.

Simon

2005-04-30T17:31:00.000-07:00

To Simon changing between the unconsciousness and conscious states lasted as if eternity was blasted within a second. Like blinking, he was seeing one moment, then not, then seeing again, but the time that passed when he was not seeing lasted much longer than it seemed. It was all very confusing for Simon; it was even more confusing when he woke up in various places with people in white clothes clustering about him and his parents saying this he couldn’t hear. Finally he woke up one time and was more aware than ever, he was moving with people moving his bed down a hall. His whole body ached with weakness, moving his hand caused a sharp pain, which shocked his whole body out of idleness. Letting out a small cry, one of the people pushing his bed turned toward him and softly told him to not move his hand-that it was connected to an IV. Simon nodded and had no idea what they were talking about but decided not to move his hand anyways if it was going to hurt. He closed his eyes and thought about his last memories.
It had been a different day than any other school day. Simon overall hated school. He did very well class but was a very private person (he was also older than all his classmates) and for this he was condemned to an outcast state. Yet that day as he was eating his lunch alone by a tree within school grounds one of his classmates walked over to him and asked if she could eat with him, more precisely a girl came over to him and asked. Even more precisely Sasha Charkov came over and asked him if she could sit next to him. Simon wasn’t shy, just private, and he calmly said “sure” and then started furiously thinking for what possible reason would Sasha want to sit next to him. They ate in silence until Sasha said:
“I think you’re a pretty cool guy.”
Simon was a private person, the year before he had friends, and although he had been alone this year he still had observed the “events” which teens would-in his opinion- stupidly engage in. These involved having crushes, skipping school, gossiping and others which he loathed mainly because all his friends were gone, making him angry at anyone who was able to enjoy the teen drama. He scowled.
“No you don’t.”
“No I don’t what?” Sasha began getting uneasy.
“No you don’t like me.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You were though, weren’t you?”
“Well I-“
But Simon was getting annoyed and he cut her off.
“What do you want?”
It was Sasha’s turn to start getting annoyed.
“Look. I don’t want anything. I didn’t even want to come over here in the first place.”
“Why did you come then?”
“Never mind.” And with that Sasha got up and walked away. Immediately Simon regretted getting mad, but he couldn’t help it. In the past girls had come up to him for help on homework. But it still puzzled him why she would come over and ask to eat with him.
Simon groaned in his sleep. Velaho looked up from where he was sitting, then glanced at to Breck but he shook his head. No enemies yet.

nope!

2005-04-29T01:27:00.000-07:00

out of juice..sorry