Gravity quit working
My feet now never touch the ground
It’s as if I’ve fallen for the Red Bull ads
To the earth no longer bound
Their being is confectionery
I am colliding with the bliss
Drawn from still and stationary
To a yearning restless kiss
Gravity quit working
My feet now never touch the ground
It’s as if I’ve fallen for the Red Bull ads
To the earth no longer bound
Their being is confectionery
I am colliding with the bliss
Drawn from still and stationary
To a yearning restless kiss
To honor Good Friday, (2015) I was asked to write a poem. I do not proclaim a faith, just a belief in love and the goodness of the human beings that walk this plane. The three part poem below is written from three perspectives witnessing the crucifixion. When it is read, it is from three different voices they come. I hope it speaks to your spirit if you’re so inclined.
I’m not a Christian, but Lord, if I was,
I’d not stand by and watch them offer up applause
For that man they called a criminal for preaching about love
For the one some call Messiah, while others cry Peaceful dove.
I stand here in the crowd as they cheer this brother’s pain
My heart is filled with sorrow, as his beaten body strains
The laughter that I hear from the festive vicious hearts
Breaks something inside of me, tears my faith apart
I want to scream above the crowd, “HEAR!”
In a voice shrill and loud, “ME!”
With my head no longer bowed, “LORD!”
Releasing my own funeral shroud, “I AM NEAR!”
But I am weak, just human. I am nothing compared to them.
But maybe, my kindred spirits, that’s what moves me to condemn
For I love my God with all my heart, and in God’s house I walk
I serve in supplication, I don’t just talk the talk.
I am not a Christian, but Lord, if I ever loved,
I’d heed the wisdom of the dying man, and thank my God above.
How dare that man pass his judgement down on me!
Who does he think he is, telling ME how to believe?!
I’ve learned and taught the toe-RAH
I’ve worshipped at the sacred altar
I’ve cantered every prayer
I can recite them without flaw or falter.
Then this mortal man comes along and claims to be
Far more holy than even me?
The Son of God? Oh, reeeeaaaaaaallly!?
I’ve fixed that preachy “Love Thy Neighbor” fellow
I paid my thirty silver to hear him scream in falsetto.
Sometimes the laws I enforce prevent me from doing what’s right
I pass the coins to Roman hands, let them bloody their own hands tonight
This should make my people think twice before leaving our faith
To follow a crazy instigator, that rejects my loving God’s face.
I am hidden in the darkness, afraid to show my face
“Oh Lord, why’d they tell us that Yeshua fell from grace?
You showed me my friend Judas with thirty silver in his fist
Forsake my dear beloved with cold betrayal’s kiss
You let my holy brother be taken
from the garden where we prayed.
You allowed him to be arrested
when you could have let him stay.”
I am hidden in the darkness, afraid they’ll point at me and say
That I was clearly one of his. That they’ll kill me the same way.
“Oh Lord, why have they called for my redeemer to be killed?
When ne’er a drop of anguish from his gentle lips have spilled?
I do not feel you near, Oh God, I’ve lost your loving light
When they took my sweet friend, Yeshua, away in darkest night.
If I weren’t hidden in the darkness, barely safe from Roman harm
I’d scream out my torment, beating my chest to sound alarm.
“Hosanna! Hosanna! I sing to your precious name
Hosanna! Hosanna! My finger points my brother’s shame.
My faith is ever yours, even when I don’t understand.
I mean, you took us through the desert, 40 years we wandered sand
And yet, my Father, I hide here, within this darkened room
I wonder, holy patriarch if his death will also be my doom.”
I am hidden in the darkness, despair my wretched dominion
Oh God! My Loving God! Remove my deserter’s vision.”
I’ve given up on grief.
It’s too small of a word
To contain the absence I feel
To cover the sorrow that blooms
Unexpectedly
When I make coffee in the morning
Or taste a muffin
Like you used to make
I’ve given up grief
It’s too small of a space
To hold all that was you
The way you laughed
The scent of your body
Fresh out of the shower
Or sweaty with work
I’ve given up grief
It’s too shallow for a feeling
That is deeper than I thought
Although I suspected,
Your love holds me buoyant
In the ocean of our commitment
Yes, I’ve given up grief
Because the world requires
The gift of who you were
Through my eyes.
I can’t hold that when it,
Like you,
Were born to shine even now
I am a shepherd without any sheep
I am a reaper who does not reap
I am a mute, your secrets I keep
I am the lullaby to sing you to sleep
I am the shadow that does not creep
I am a leviathan up from the deep
I am the mountain with a rocky face steep
I am the vessel your burdens to heap
I am the tears that no longer weep
I am the life who causes no grief
I am the toddler who grants you no peace
I am the medicine that brings you relief
I am the bearer of your disbelief
How long will you linger on the pillow where last you lay your head?
What rose will remind me of the scent of your life that has evolved into dead?
What chime will ring out over the earth
That may likely forget your value; your worth?
Will the blushing dawn sing of the mourning you gave
Will the fiery sunset trumpet over your grave?
Will the willows tell your legend for eons to come
Whispering your legend in branches like drums?
At twenty-one I planned to die,
with a beer in one hand while getting high.
Nobody could see me, I didn’t exist
I screamed myself hoarse
while in their midst
Ironically, I didn’t tell
the secrets I had borne in hell
Imploding shrapnel from darkest places
Repulsed by misleading “loving” embraces
As I grew older, I refused my name
Pushing anger towards familial blame
I gave away my power
before it could be taken
If someone actually saw me,
they’d surely be mistaken
I never did because I knew I never could
It didn’t matter the effort
no matter how good.
I believed pain was love
because that’s what I was shown
Throughout my childhood
into the adult-self grown
I was Destructive in the sense that I had to tear down who I thought I was, who I believed myself to be. I had to dismantle the neglect, anger, bitterness, and apathy that were hidden under the guise of Love. Some of the wounds still ran blood. Some of them still had the knife protruding from my body. I walked around a victim, convinced I would cease to exist one day and that event would go unnoticed, under-appreciated, and quickly forgotten.
I was lied to, given gossip about my unworthiness for breakfast. I was taught values: The value of my vagina, the worthlessness of being barren, that I deserved wrath and disdain because, after all, I was the one insane.
I was force fed my inferiority until i vomited the parrot back to those whom despised the thought of me. The people who used every flicker of my light to read and implement my oppression. I allowed it, encouraged it because they lied love in the guise of vulnerability.
Despite all of that, I’ve broken that cycle. I know I am worthy of love. I know I am loved. I know I am kind, compassionate, loving, giving, helpful, wickedly smart, emotionally intelligent, with the sense of humor of a 12-year old boy who relishes bad jokes, fart jokes, dad jokes, irreverent and dark jokes.
I have accomplished more in the last five years because I believe in myself, my power, my skill, my experience, and my North Star; my loving heart. And best of all, I have a cheerleading band of friends who both keep me grounded and celebrate my successes in flights of fancy.
What a fantastic journey I have forged from the ashes of my youth. Nourishing the needs of my soul/spirit has been the best present I’ve ever given to myself. It leaks into the world like a floodlight of hope. Even better than that? I know it’s rightfully mine.
I’ll kiss you good night
Holding you tightly in my heart;
But only if you’ll return.
In the dawning hours,
Brighten the sky
Like you did upon entering a room
At midday remind me
Again of your voice
As a bird lingering in a nearby tree.
At supper, with the table set,
Join me as the clinking clatter
Of silverware and glasses
Savoring the living moment.
And at dusk, as clouds draw dark,
Cleanse me with your tears
Shed as fluid reminders
That my love was not in vain
But returned tenfold even still.
I want to feel what I feel
I don’t want to be told:
It’s for the best
It’s gods plan
Snap out of it
Or insidiously
Get over it
I need to feel what I feel
The well wishers are wrong
Sometimes insensitive
To my patchwork heart
Whose whole is filled with holes
I know change has come
I know, eventually,
I, too, will change.
While I’m here in this moment
So different from what I knew
(Took for granted)
I require feeling what I feel
Without excuses or platitudes.
I am human.
I want to feel what I feel right now.
Speaking words of comfort
for a man I never met
to people I didn’t know
Committing his eternal soul
to an unknown God
My phone providing a 21 gun salute
then Taps to honor the Marine
I read Seneca
while breathing clouds of wisdom
into the icy air
As I stood next to the vault
I realized I was standing by myself
Watching myself
Disjointed, disassociated, but grounded
like him.
Let the light of hope blaze
Fearlessly raised against all doubt
Truth in observance praised
Darkness lost in deepest drought
Let the sacred heart grow
Fearlessly held by mercy’s grace
Kindness to our siblings flow
honoring our different faiths
Let the truth within our lives
Fearlessly show our love to kin
Justice minded as we strive
Vessels of honest reason
Let community be strong
Fearlessly the Chalice light
Guide us to know right from wrong
Even in the darkest night
An Independent Nondiscriminatory Platform With No Religious, Political, Financial, or Social Affiliations - FOUNDED 2014
Life is a patchwork of moments — laughter, solitude, everyday joys, and quiet aches. Through scribbled stories, I explore travels both far and inward, from sunrise over unfamiliar streets to the comfort of home. This is life as I see it, captured in ink and memory. Stick around; let's wander together.
Hosanna High Community Burial Project
True wealth is the wealth of the soul
ईशा वास्यम् इदं सर्वम्
Daydreaming and then, maybe, writing a poem about it. And that's my life.
Psychology, Mind over matter
Life as an American poet of excellence
Epic fantasy & military sci-fi author.
Love Letters to the Tar Pit
Making Space for Dreams
binge thinking and other things in life