The Cold, Hard World of Facts vs. Fiction.

Mutiny of the Shadows- a poem

2005-11-18T09:38:00.000-08:00

Shadows are everywhere.
They shift and change spots,
Always connected to my sole.
I can’t escape them.
Even if I could fly, they would still find
A way to follow me.

But now in a world going dark
They are mutinying on me.
My shadow pulls away from me-
Chasing me, surrounding me.
I have nowhere to run or hide.
I am defenseless and shrouded over.

I call to God as the shadows swarm.
In my despair I cry for shelter.
The shadows draw in closer,
Bearing their claws and fangs.
All seems lost to me,
As if my soul is forfeited to the dark.

Then suddenly light, light all around.
I am pulsating beneath the skin
With bright, blinding light.
I know that the Lion of Judah has come-
To defend me, to drive back the night,
And to destroy the dark about me.

It is nothing I do that erodes
This darkness about me,
Only this great and good Lion.
His roar blasts out and shatters the dark.
The light runs out along the ground and in the air
Like a nuclear blast, rippling outward.

Finally I rise, as the Lion approaches.
I try to look him in the eyes,
But there is such light and power there
That I am forced to look away.
I mumble something like a thanks
But it feels weirdly pathetic.

The Lion licks my forehead and says,
“You need not thank me. It was my pleasure.
The only thing you had to do was
Call out, and you did. Now you are marked
As mine forever. I empower you to
Go out into the darkness and bring my light.”

As he speaks I realize I am changing.
I am changing both inside and out.
Inside, my heart is bursting with light and joy,
And outside I am turning into a warrior.
Armor, a sword, shield and helmet-
All made of crystal- grew around me.

Where he had licked my head
There grew a blindingly bright white cross.
Then the Lion said, “Go. Push back the darkness.
Fight that which almost destroyed you.
It will not be easy, but it will succeed
Because I have sealed you as my own.”

I take up my sword and shield
And make a march towards the dark horizon.
The Great Lion walks with me awhile,
But eventually he vanishes.
He is not gone though-
I can still feel him with me.

He said it will not be easy,
And I pray for strength as I walk.
The darkness draws nearer.
I meet and recruit other warriors
Ordained by the Great Lion.
The battle will be long, but the reward is worth it.

My heart is at peace knowing that he is there.
Knowing also that I have fellow soldiers
Fighting faithfully at my side.
We are gaining strength and drawing closer to the dark.
It is time to take the fight to the darkness, To rebel on those mutinous shadows.

Jesus is not a Nice Guy.- an article

2005-11-04T10:57:00.000-08:00

The title probably shocks you, but it’s true. I am not saying that he’s mean, or sadistic, or tyrannical. But neither is Jesus like Mr. Rogers, Fred Penner, or Barney the Dinosaur- those guys are what we would call nice guys. Now, it’s true that Jesus loves children, and he bears with his disciples as they struggle to understand his teachings, and that he forgives prostitutes, tax collectors and even the Romans who tortured and crucified him. These examples and more don’t prove that he’s a nice guy- they demonstrate the traits of love, compassion, grace, mercy and long-suffering.

What is nice guy anyways? A nice guy is a peace-lover, some one who is non-confrontational, who always agrees with the demands of those around him, and who listens to non-angry music- like Yanni or Bette Midler. Does that sound like the Jesus you know? Does it sound like the kind of Jesus you would want to know? My hope is that you would say no. See, while Jesus is loving, compassionate, gracious, merciful and long-suffering he is so much more than that.

Look at the gospel story- every time the Pharisees approached him did he become all complacent and non-confrontational? Quite the opposite- he challenged them, he gave them a verbal licking and sent them packing to tend their wounded pride and self-righteousness. He got righteously indignant and threw tables when the merchants set up shop in the temple. He drove out demons- how could a demon be afraid of a nice guy? He fought Satan and his schemes of ruin for our souls when he died on the cross. Look elsewhere, like Revelation, where he is described as a fierce rider with his robe dipped in blood. Does that sound more like Mr. Rogers or William Wallace? The prophecy in Genesis about Eve’s seed crushing the serpent’s head referred to Christ- would a nice guy kill a snake by stomping his brains out? Not likely.

That’s my whole point here- Christ is not a nice guy. He is a hero- a man who will defend his Bride, the church. How does one defend someone else? Do you sit around a conference table telling your enemies that you want to avoid a conflict- knowing full well that they have already determined in their mind to attack? You do if you’re a nice softie of a guy. But Jesus was not soft- he was firm, stern, steeled in his mind about his mission to save our souls and win our hearts as his Bride. He bled for us; he suffered valiantly and still came out on top- just like a hero would. I am not reducing Jesus to merely a hero here- because heroism implies that he died for someone worthwhile- but that he was more than a nice guy. We were sinners when Christ died for us. More than that because we weren’t even born yet- he died for the thought of us being sinners in this day and age.

Sadly many of us as Christians have come to adopt this view of Jesus as a really nice guy, and we as sinners aren’t really that bad. The result has been a complacency of our hearts and our mission as Christ’s ambassadors to take the gospel to the world. We are called to reflect Christ, and Christ is a determined, fierce Lion of Judah. It’s just like in C.S. Lewis’ classic Chronicles of Narnia- Christ is paralleled by the great Lion Aslan. Aslan is compassionate and tender to the children that wend their way into his world, and sacrifices himself in place of Edmund. Is that where it ends? No way. He comes back and kills that heartless, scheming Ice queen Jadis, and restores Narnia to its former glory. When Lucy asks the beavers if Aslan is a safe lion, Mr. Beaver says, “Safe. Of course he’s not safe- but he’s good.” How true.

So why do we picture Christ, the lion of Judah as a tame, house cat? The reason is because we have been fooling ourselves into thinking Jesus plays things safe- when really he is the opposite: he took the ultimate risk by becoming human, and donning for eternity a human body. He took a risk not just coming into the flesh, but giving us free will to choose him as our savior, hero, lover and Bridegroom- for we can always choose to reject him. The choice as his children is to reclaim the adventure that he has called us to live. Will we remain “nice guy (or girl)” Christians, trying to negotiate a truce around a desk with an enemy determined to bring us down? Or will we be like the warrior poet Scots who charge the fields of Bannock burn to reach our fallen brothers and sisters in the P.O.W. camp in enemy territory? The choice to pick up the sword is there- we need to determine if we will rely on the Lion of Judah’s strength to help us wield the sword, or turn and run like nice guys and remain weaklings forever.

Faker-a poem

2005-09-03T12:16:00.000-07:00

Do they know?
Have I been figured out?
Have they seen right through my mask?
I’m so worried, I can’t answer these things.
How did it come to this,
That I have used those I love to further myself?
Why do I do it?
I’ve been so used to holding everyone and everything at bay,
That I’ve lost my moorings.
I can’t even remember if I had moorings to begin with.
The sickening feelings of loneliness and abandonment are sinking in,
Every passing minute I can feel them soaking up my soul like a sponge;
Too much longer and I’m gonna drown
In my own sea of worthlessness.
It’s almost over now, as I sit in this tub contemplating suicide.
All I gotta do is reach for the straight razor, and that’s it.
Then I realize how stupid and selfish that is,
And how much pain I’d cause God.
I limply drop the razor and make a vow.
A vow to never do something so stupid again.
But more importantly, to stop being a faker.

You’re There Before Me-a poem

2005-09-03T12:07:00.000-07:00

Jonathan Micah Redditt, my little brother
I barely knew you.
But I’ll see you on the other side.
Even if you’re there before me.

An untimely cord embraced your throat,
Welcoming you into God’s presence.
Even though it’s God’s will I want to know
Why you’re there before me?

Prematurely born in mid April
You were taken from us all.
I’ve never seen your face,
But I know you’re there before me.

One day, by God’s grace, I’ll see you.
We will fellowship in God’s presence.
Until then I’ll have to live with the fact
That you’re there before me.

Theatre Room-a poem

2005-09-03T12:05:00.000-07:00

Here I sit alone in this dark, tall room.
It is a theatre and around me sits hundreds of people.
We sit in the dark, feeling the gloom press down.
We sit and stare at a blank screen, waiting.

When the words come on, we follow the orders:
Enjoy life while it lasts; help yourself.
So I fill my mouth with buttery popcorn,
Waiting for the next order.

As I wait, the popcorn suddenly tastes bland.
I put down the food and pick up my drink,
Still waiting for more instructions.
But the drink tastes like lukewarm water.

Then more instructions come on the screen.
However as I sit and stare, with my bland pleasures
I read something between the lines:
Take up your cross and follow Me.

Suddenly it becomes clear why the gloom is pressing,
Why I am so unhappy, and why the phrase is there.
I stand and see a few others go for the exits,
And snake my way to the door out into the light outside.

The Writer-a poem

2005-09-03T12:04:00.000-07:00

Have you ever looked
Upon a writer’s face as he writes?
His eyes are hooked
On the paper as he mentally fights
With the demons and writer’s block.
Ideas fly by like birds in a flock.

He sits at the oak desk
Amidst a mountain of paper crumpled.
Flicking away the eraser’s speck,
Sitting in his week old clothes all rumpled,
He scratches his head in contemplation,
Wondering if the story will only be a frustration.

The lone dangling desk lamp
Sways in the breeze as the writer
Tries to climb the mental ramp,
The ramp that he wishes was a lover, not a fighter.
Then slowly the writer starts furiously
To write as the story breaks through furiously, seriously....

The Uncertainty Principle-a poem

2005-09-03T12:02:00.000-07:00

Let me put a question to you:
Where are you going when you die?
If you know the answer,
You’ve just beaten
The uncertainty principle.

What’s that you may ask?
It’s not knowing what your future holds.
Not knowing whether you’ll be married or not,
Or what your career will be.
That’s the uncertainty principle.

How do you beat the uncertainty principle?
Christ-He’s got your plan and purpose set
He’s got plans to give you a hope and a future.
In Christ, you can be certain that He’s covered
The uncertainty principle.

The Old Man and The Potter-a poem

2005-09-03T12:01:00.000-07:00

There’s an old man I know-
A mirror image of myself.
He’s always hanging around,
Waving his awful habits in my face.

The old man sometimes seems part of me;
Sometimes he seems to be dead,
But by myself I can’t completely control him.

One day I met someone
Who called himself the Potter.
He knew more about me
Than I knew about myself.

He said, “If you want to
Be rid of the old man,
Let me shape your life
Like I shape this clay.”

I asked the Potter to
Shape and change my heart.
I feel more alive now,
Than I ever did before.
Rest in peace old man.

The Blackboard-a poem

2005-09-03T12:00:00.000-07:00

Here I am,
Sealed in a room windowless and door less.
Surrounded by darkness and a piercing silence,
And facing a blackboard.

As I stare at it
The board becomes full of words:
Lust, greed, lying and more.
These are the sins of my life.

The words are written in black,
A black only I can see.
Then the words seem to jump from the board,
And I lower my head in shame.

Suddenly a light comes on,
Bright and illuminating like floodlights,
Clear as crystal, and white as snow.
Hope instantly enters my heart.

I pray to God to forgive me,
And cleanse my heart of black sin.
Then suddenly the dark words on the board disappear,
To be replaced by one white word: forgiven.

Takin’ Chances-a poem

2005-09-03T11:58:00.000-07:00

Takin’ chances,
Doin’ dances.
Livin’ on the edge.

Livin’ for Christ,
Take advice,
And maybe trim your hedge.

Use your head,
Go to bed,
And try to avoid sorrow.

Love yo’ God,
Obey His laws
And joy is yours always.

Supposition on Growing Old-a poem

2005-09-03T11:56:00.000-07:00

Sometimes as I sit bored, doing nothing
I start feeling like I’m extremely old.
Perhaps it’s just depression, but it gets me thinking:
“What will I be like when I’m thirty?”

This, therefore is my supposition on growing old.
I suppose my future will hold many things:
Marriage, employment, dreams, and aspirations.
There will also be sadness, nightmares, and crushed hope.

But I also suppose life is not something we control.
There could also be divorce and restraining orders,
And these kind of things could seriously change me.
So I ask you to think carefully about all you could be and do.

There could also be premature death,
That would rob my future of all possibilities.
But I know that when I die,
I will go to eternal rest when it’s my time.

Strength in Numbers-a poem

2005-09-03T11:55:00.000-07:00

There is strength in numbers.
We’ve all heard the saying,
But how often do we apply it
In our own daily walk with Christ?

If the saying is true,
Then why do we allow ourselves
To get separated not just behind enemy lines,
But behind our own as well.

If Philippians 4:13 is true,
Why do so many lose heart,
And forfeit the un-fought, un-won battle?
We need to be more than conquerors.

We must be spiritually like Joshua,
Be strong and of great courage,
For only those who patiently circle Jericho
And wait upon the Lord shall see the walls tumble.

Straight Faced Maniac-a poem

2005-09-03T11:53:00.000-07:00

You think you know me do ya?
You know nothing.
I am a crazy, bona fide and certified.
I play it cool but it’s so hard to cover some days.

Some days I want to laugh in your face,
And tell you what a bloody moron you are.
Some days I want to pull out my hair,
And spit in your face.

But oh no, I gotta play it cool.
I gotta act like everything’s fine.
Gotta play it cool in this runaway world.
Too much more and this sugar coated mask is gonna disappear.

Yep that’s me, the sugarcoated,
Straight faced maniac.
Just go ahead and push me to my limit,
And see how very unreasonable I’ll be.

Redefined Attitude-a poem

2005-09-03T11:51:00.000-07:00

What do we need?
Who’s planted the seed?
What desires do we feed?
Where’s the gratitude?

What are you thankful for?
How has God stocked your store?
Why do we always need more?
We need to drop the selfish attitude.

We need to be grateful for our God given days.
We must make an effort in many different ways.
We gotta check out an attitude that pays.
A redefined attitude of gratitude.

Rebel-a poem

2005-09-03T11:49:00.000-07:00

You can’t make me conform
I am against the flow.
That’s because I’m unique
You can’t control who I am.

I’m a rebel
Never gonna run with the pack
I’m a fighter
Never gonna stop until I die
I’m a wild card
Never can tell what I’ll do next.

No one tells me how to work
I am an independent thinker.
No one makes me like a mold
You can’t cut and paste me,
And that’s how it’ll be until I die.

Out of the Box-a poem

2005-09-03T11:47:00.000-07:00

Moved so many times
I forgot my address.
Been livin’ out of the box so long
I forgot what bein’ settled was like.

The one comfort though
Is knowin’ this:
When I die, I’ll be packed
But at least I won’t have to worry about luggage.

Now is the Time…-a poem

2005-09-03T11:46:00.000-07:00

Now is the time,
Don’t wait for tomorrow,
Don’t procrastinate,
Don’t put things off.

Don’t wait for a loved one to die,
Or a true love to pass by.
Don’t put off your dreams and settle
For a third rate gas pumping job.

Don’t ignore Christ,
He is the fount of all life,
He alone can bring you joy and completion.
But first you gotta choose Him for yourself.

And you want to know something?
Something wonderful and beautiful
Right here and now,
Now is the Time.

Not My Father-a poem

2005-09-03T11:45:00.000-07:00

This is a poem I write for myself.
If it applies to you, or touches you in some way-bless you.
What should a father be?
Words like loving, funny, clown, closest friend, provider,
Protector, available, confidante, a discipliner, tall, official,
Strict, slack, concerned, friendly and likeable-
All of these words describe fathers.
But not my father.

No, my father is the counter opposite of all those.
For the last couple of years he has lived counter
To everything a father should be.
He has lived for the moment, the possessions,
The alternate, the secular world style.
He has forsaken God, his family, his wife and children-
All for the sake of pleasure!
This man is not my father.

But there is another father in my life.
This father is ethereal, and tangible at the same time.
I can talk to Him when I wish,
I can also ignore Him.
He hurts when I hurt.
He weeps when I weep.
He wraps his huge arms around me every day.
He is closer than a brother.
More loving than a shepherd.
He died for my sins, and lives for eternity.
And will He forsake me?
Not My Father.

Morons-a poem

2005-09-03T11:43:00.000-07:00

If there’s one thing I dislike,
It’s the morons of the world.
Whether they’re driving a bike,
Or a car, they act like they own the world.

On the highway or at home,
They seem to be missing a screw,
And you wonder if their brain’s foam,
Or if the captain’s sailing with full crew.

The best way to fight
Morons is where they lose in life,
By doing good and shedding light
On the fact that they cause strife.

In closing this ditty
I’d like to say
That it’s a stinkin’ pity
To think that morons will rule the world someday.

Me-a poem

2005-09-03T11:42:00.000-07:00

It is mind-boggling how we have a God
Who loves us despite our flaws.
I can’t recall how many times sin caused me
To stumble on the Road of Righteousness.
But instead of condemning me, He helps me
Regain my footing repeatedly.

And I ask myself, “Why? Why me?”
I’ve done nothing to deserve favor.
And I ask myself, “Why? Why me?”
God answers gently, quietly, “My Son died to redeem you.

It has been a few years since I
Invited Christ into my heart.
I can walk better on the Holy Highway,
But still I trip in those potholes,
Those potholes called sin, and still Christ helps.

And I ask myself, “Why? Why me?”
I’ve done nothing to deserve favor.
And I ask myself, “Why? Why me?
God answers gently, quietly, “My Son died to redeem you.”

Live-a poem

2005-09-03T11:39:00.000-07:00

Live:
A word the living should know,
But don’t
A word the dead want to know,
But can’t

Live:
A command God gave
That we ignore.
A choice not given to
The common street whore.

Why do we refuse to live?
Why do we insist on playing dead?
Why do we stay on shore,
Safe and secure, clutching the life ring
The drowning world desperately cries for?

Last Will and Testament-a poem

2005-09-03T11:36:00.000-07:00

I leave to anyone who knew me
Whatever I had in my lifetime
Of course, if anyone knew me
You’d know that I didn’t have much of anything.

That means that this paper
Is one of a handful of things
You’ll get from me
Without a guarantee of value.

If there’s anything valuable
Feel free to do with it what you wish
Just as long as you don’t waste it-
Or burn it.

Fool-a poem

2005-09-03T11:33:00.000-07:00

Mom and Dad, I’m sorry.
I’m sorry for disobeying your advice.
Because I’ve landed myself in a nowhere job.
In short, I’ve been a fool.

Brother and sister, I’m sorry.
I’m sorry for being a bad role model
And for not being a good brother
Don’t follow me, for I’m a fool.

Teachers and mentors, I’m sorry.
I’m sorry for letting you down
And for not being the student you wished for.
As I sit here with little education, I know I’m a fool.

Mr. and Mrs. S, I’m sorry.
I’m sorry for drinking and driving
And taking your son, my friend, away from you.
I know I’m responsible, and that I was a fool.

Ms. J, I’m sorry.
I’m sorry for being uncommitted
And placing the burden of parenthood on you so soon.
My desires didn’t match my commitment,
I am a fool.

God, I’m sorry.
I’m sorry for talking the walk, but not walking it.
And hurting all those that I’ve hurt.
Forgive me, for I’m a fool.

Elegy To My Friend-a poem

2005-09-03T11:31:00.000-07:00

My friend, you are gone
But I am still here.
You have left,
And I am left behind.

My friend, you’re in peace,
I’m in torment.
You’re with God,
I’m among demons.

My friend, I took you
From your family,
I have to live with that
And the coinciding guilt.

My friend, I took away
You from your fiancé
Days before your blessed
Union of marriage.

My friend, your scholarship
For university football sits
Void, but still a reminder of
What the future held.

My friend, you’ve made your peace
With God and are in rest.
I’m trying to make peace
With your tormented family.

My friend, your picture sits
Staring happily at me.
I look at it and I sit
Staring into the void.

My friend, I’m coming to terms
With the fact you’re gone.
And I’m coming to terms
With the fact I’ll never see you again.

My friend, I’ve considered
All that I’ve done,
And I’ve considered death.
But that wouldn’t do at all.

My friend, I’m sorry.
I keep wishing for a miracle
That could bring you back,
But I know that’s impossible.

Therefore, my friend
I will say farewell to you,
Accept the blame for the accident
And prevent it from happening again.

Edge of Oblivion-a poem

2005-09-03T11:30:00.000-07:00

Have you ever seen
The edge of oblivion?
Some of you may say yes.
Others no.
The truth is we’ve all seen it.
Just some a little closer than others.

Let me refreshify your memory.
It’s a sheer, smooth obsidian cliff
From where many a soul has plummeted.
There are traces of red inside the obsidian.
It could be rubies, or it could be fire embers.
Not even those who jumped could tell you.

Everyone sees this particular edge.
But there is one better than Oblivion,
It’s known as the edge of Serenity.
Sad to say, few today know about it.
If you’ve never seen it
Let me show you.

Let me introduce you.
It’s a sheer, smooth white pearl cliff
From where many a soul has given over control
There are traces of green inside it,
It could be emeralds, it could be a new kind of cactus.
Those who go climbing there could tell you.

And at the bottom of the cliff
Across the sea of glass,
Is the great white city
With streets of gold,
Never ending worship
And the greatest king ever.

If you’re interested,
Let me show you the way.
Better yet, I’ll walk with you there.
And who knows
Maybe we’ll meet some other stranded folks.
And show them the way from the edge of Oblivion.

Dream World-a poem

2005-09-03T11:28:00.000-07:00

When you close your eyes
And withdraw from pressures
Piled on by the world,
This is the dream world.

When you see the world through rose colored glasses,
And you have found the one
You know will be yours forever,
You’ve entered the dream world.

When you’ve hit rock bottom
And you know you’ve got nowhere to go,
You retreat to a personal refuge
And pray for a retreat to the dream world.

When you’re enjoying yourself
And you see tragedy on TV.
You wish there was no death, and hurt.
You hope for a dream world.

When you know you’re a sinner
And you’ve tried every thing but are going nowhere
You turn to God and pray for forgiveness,
You’ve found more than a dream world-
You’ve found eternal rest.

Cliché-a poem

2005-09-03T11:26:00.000-07:00

Pick your poison.
Choose your weapon.
Make my day.
Strung out, held up.
Live long and prosper.
Rest in peace.

The world is my oyster, my prison, my life.
Make ends meet.
Look out for number one.
Watch out for number two.
The devil made me do it.

All you need is love.
Love the one you’re with,
In the name of love,
Come together right now.
Head for the hills folks.

If the world is so original, why do we have so many clichés?
If the world is so perfect, why does it slip through cracks?
If God doesn’t exist, why are we blessed?
If we are the pinnacles of creation, why do we stoop to the level of the monkeys?

Here are some things that Christians have clichéd:
Prayer, unconditional love, faith, mercy.
What happened to our first love folks?
Why is God a regular in foul language and cruel jokes?
Are we gonna go with the flow?
Are we gonna stand and fight?
Will you be a prisoner of war, or a rebel with bite?
These are questions you gotta answer for yourself,
Cause like the saying goes, you want something done right
You got to do it yourself.

Burning Candle Wick, Ticking Clock-a poem

2005-09-03T11:25:00.000-07:00

Candles diverse,
Candles thick,
Candles tall and short,
Candle’s burning wick.

Candles stand out in the night,
Candles battle the elements,
Candles stand firm and strong,
Then candle’s burning wick snuffs out.

People diverse,
People thick,
People tall and short,
People’s ticking clock.

People stand out in the night,
People battle the elements,
People stand firm and strong,
Then people’s ticking clock stops running.

Beauty in a Bottle-a poem

2005-09-03T11:24:00.000-07:00

In today’s modern world
There is a sad truth:
We can now buy
Beauty in a bottle.

Calvin Klein, Liz Taylor,
J. Lo, Ralph Lauren:
These are the gods of
Beauty in a bottle.

What I want to know is
Where did we put God?
Amongst these boxes of
Beauty in a bottle?

Why do we insist on
Cheating ourselves and selling short
On the real beauty that existed before
Beauty in a bottle?

We gotta stop,
Junk the artificial
And get back to God’s beauty
The beauty in a bottle
Known as men and women.

Beautiful Lord-a poem

2005-09-03T11:23:00.000-07:00

Better than a rainy, fresh day.
Better than a Starbucks frappucino:
This is my Beautiful Lord.

More euphoric than a handful of ecstasy,
More romantic than a handful of carnations:
This is my Beautiful and Mighty Lord.

More gripping than a blockbuster film,
More intense than a game of RISK:
This is my Beautiful, Mighty, Heavenly Father.

More focused than a chess champ,
More purposeful than a practical joker:
He is my Beautiful, Eternal, and Mighty, Heavenly Father.

Apple Praise Pie-a poem

2005-09-03T11:21:00.000-07:00

What is it that brings me joy?
What is it that I am thankful for?
Second to the Lord,
I’d have to say-a slice of apple praise pie.

To me, apple praise pie is made up of the small things
I give thanks to the Lord for.
Blueberries, a good cup of coffee, better friends,
Rain, freedom to worship, bike riding,
E-mail, tiger lilies, and my family.

What is your apple praise pie?
Do you know what you are thankful for?
Apple praise pie is given from the Lord,
So eat up and be thankful.

Addictions-a poem

2005-09-03T11:20:00.000-07:00

Some people are addicted to coffee,
Others are addicted to cigarettes,
And some are addicted to alcohol.
But me, I’m addicted to God.

Some are chocolate lovers,
Others are movie junkies,
And some are self-proclaimed d.js.
Me, I’ve got a craving for Christ.

Some addicts like sports,
Others like cards,
And some are into cars.
But me, I’m a Jesus freak.

Some enjoy religion,
Others like yoga.
And unfortunately most are spiritually lost.
But I’m sold out on Christ.

Abused-a poem

2005-09-03T11:18:00.000-07:00

Sticks and stones break bones,
And names hurt like hell.
Money can’t buy me love,
So I feel unloved by others.
People hear, but rarely listen-
Which is why I’m drowning out the world
Under my headphones.
Some people are like open books,
But first you gotta unlock the door on the bookcase.
A picture’s worth a thousand words they say.
So what does one’s absence from yearbook photos say?
We always preach about inclusion while we lock the outcasts in their lockers.
You may not have hurt me by hitting me,
But a lack of touch can hurt too.
Loving your friends and relatives only in as much
As they can give you things is disgusting.
What am I talking about?
Abuse.
Nothing’s new under the sun,
And abuse is no exception.

Creed of the Heart-A poetic statement of beliefs

2005-09-03T11:15:00.000-07:00

I believe in the Trinity, of the three in one.
I believe the Son took the world’s shame on Himself
To make it square with the Father.
I believe Christ rose after three days of death and decay
As a testimony to Satan’s weakness.
Gossip is of the devil, encouragement is of God.
The Spirit helps us grow, the Father is our Counselor
And Christ is our Savior and friend.

Christ died for me individually, and he died for me as a member of the human race.
Racism is a disease, as much as cancer, AIDS or Parkinson’s.
Idol worship is rampant in today’s world.
We need to constantly return to our first love.
Two-facedness needs to stop being made.
Bad music needs to stop being made.
Reality TV needs to stop, shows about heroes need to increase.
Hollywood needs more Cary Grants, Jimmy Stewarts, and Gregory Pecks.

Everyone should take drama lessons
Some should become actors.
The arts need to be refocused.
People should think for themselves and not be led on by others.
Only leaders should lead, not politicians.

My favorite things include:
The color green, Superman, Cherry Coke,
Beethoven, orange t-shirts, historical films,
Shakespeare’s “Hamlet”, Stephen King fiction,
Good coffee, better frapuccino, my friends:
Jesse, Mike, Malachi and Ryan, movie posters,
Great lines, writing, Indiana Jones, and being loved.

Remember-a poem

2005-09-03T11:13:00.000-07:00

As I close my eyes
I visualize
The Second World War vets,
Who gave up their lives to save ours,
I pray we not forget; I pray
Remember them all your living hours.

Remember them for heroic deeds,
Remember them as men.
Let their memories grow like poppy seeds,
And nest in our brain like a wren.
Remember them with the poppy,
They died to make us happy.

Remember them on D-Day,
Remember about Dieppe.
Remember how they paid
Will their lives with every battle step.
Remember also their tombstones,
And the occupying courageous bones.

Remember as we celebrate
Remembrance Day,
How they saved us before it was too late,
And how with their lives they did pay.
Remember they died that we might live,
To share the freedom they did give.

Twilight Angel-a poem

2005-09-03T11:12:00.000-07:00

I can see her standing there in the vanishing light,
Brilliant brown eyes piercing the enclosing night.
Just the thought of her smile makes me feel right.
I move toward her, but find she moves away.
I long to keep her with me in this ever fading day.
I’ll fight to keep her with me, no matter the price to pay.

Fighting, I move forward, pressing with all my might.
Pressing against the weightiness of this ever-heavy night.
Even in the dark I feel her soul, and see with a sight
That could not be anything but love’s bright shining ray.
This ray of love leads me on to the right and proper way.
The way to my twilight angel who is now not so far away.

How does it end?
One cannot certainly know,
For in a struggle two must fight.
The twilight angel must take a stand
And choose her path
Either to the young man, or to no man’s land.

Love is Not…-a poem

2005-09-03T11:09:00.000-07:00

Love is not selfish,
But is self-humbling.
Love is not temporary,
But is a lifetime commitment.
Love is not simply emotional,
But also deeply spiritual.
Love has no time limit,
But is eternally existing.
Love is not wavering,
But is ever steadfast.
Love is not bitter,
But is content in all things.
Love is not just a feeling,
But a trait of God.
Love is not a warm buzz,
But a holy fire for one another.
Love is not a one-night stand,
But an everlasting stand against time.
Love is not just fling,
But love is something to be cherished forever.
Love is not a pursuit,
But a holy joint of two people by God’s grace.
Love is not just in looks,
But love is in character.
Love is not merely skin deep,
But penetrates to the soul and spirit.
Love is not just sex,
But is spiritual unity between two people.
Love is not a pit you fall into,
But a heaven on earth through one you love.
Love is not a ball and chain,
But is a wonderful freedom of spirit.
Love is not a personal restraint,
But one of man’s greatest freedoms.
Love is not a torturous process,
But a joyful endeavor of the heart.
Love is not just a word,
But a faithful deed.
Love is loyalty.
Love is personal sacrifice.

Father Forgive Them-a poem

2005-09-03T11:07:00.000-07:00

Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they do.
The religious leaders falsely accuse, saying I blaspheme.
Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they do.
I am weak, naked and scourged by soldiers mocking me.
Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they do.
Pilate orders me crucified, but forgets where his power came from.
Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they do.
Soldiers put spikes through my wrists and gamble my robe off.
Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they do.
A thief also mocks, demanding a sign to prove who I am.
Father, forgive them, because I take their sin to the grave,
And into Your hands I commit my Spirit.

A Letter of Apology To the One True God-A poem

2005-09-03T11:05:00.000-07:00

Dear God, I’ve done it again.
Once again I send a spiritual letter
To the Creator whom I’ve failed.
Despite my resolve to do better,
I’ve fallen to my knees like I’ve been nailed
Realizing I’ve lost more joy than pain.

If it’s possible, could you help me
Climb out of this canyon of grief
Created by a humble mortal you call yours?
If you could spare the time it would be a relief,
Because I’ve spent far too many hours
Fighting by myself against folly.

Death seems imminent and I worry
Whether I’m worth the trouble you go to
To save me from myself.
Then I hear your instant reply skew
All thought of despair and clean the dusty shelf
That I call my soul and say “My child don’t worry.”

As I stick the postage on the letter
Send it to you express
And pray it find you,
I know you love, when I depress.
I also know you forgive too,
And my soul rises in joy and I feel better.

The Other 90 Percent-a poem

2005-08-24T08:26:00.000-07:00

Man-the pinnacle creation till sin.
The fateful day he partook of taboo
Human kind went brain dead.
I want to know where'd the other ninety percent go?

If you consider that we only use ten percent
Of our God-given faculties
And are still the smartest creation
You should ask what happened to the other ninety percent.

The sad answer to the question
Of where our faculties went to
Is that we traded life and brains
For death and "blissful" ignorance!

Even when the first man had one hundred percent
Of his brains he was still stupid enough
To believe a talking serpent over God-
He chose for the rest of us to lose the other ninety percent.

But there is good news in this-
Jesus came with all one hundred percent and in his wisdom
Planned to save our souls and our minds.
So let's pick up our brains and show others where their ninety percent is.

Nothing Without God-a poem

2005-08-24T08:21:00.000-07:00

People tell me that I can write,
That I have a talent.
They may be right, but I am
Nothing without God.

Words come to me easily,
And I always seem to know
How people think and are-
And I am nothing without God.

I know that my talent is a gift,
A gift from the Author and Perfecter of my faith.
I also know that my gift on my own
Is nothing without God.

It is because of this realization
That I will honor the Gift giver
By glorifying His name and encouraging others
Or my writing is nothing without God.

A Meeting of Two Rivers-a poem

2005-07-31T09:08:00.000-07:00

Sagitawa- A Meeting of Two Rivers
That describes perfectly how
We people meet as two rivers
And find common ground here.

Each of us comes down different
Rivers of life to be here,
Serving God as we are gifted;
Using the paddles and means we have.

Some of our rivers are marked with
Rapids, dams and marshes.
Some of us take the same rivers,
And join rafts for a safer journey.

It's when we meet at this crossing
That we find a rich variety of friends
We share in each other's joys and sorrows,
Discovering and rediscovering friendships new and old.

We meet here and stay for a time
Listening to each other's river tales,
Marvelling at the work of the Father,
And preparing to continue on the forging of the river trail.

Some us have travelled many years on our rivers,
While others have much sojourning.
We are here for what seems like an eternity
When really it is a flitting second.

Slowly but steadily we drift apart,
Some of us not to return for many a year.
Others of us will see this place again shortly-
But things will never be just as it is in this moment.

As we part, with handshakes, words and hugs
There is a sense of sorrow in the parting,
But it is merely skin deep-
For we know the power of the Father.

For if he can freeze the sun in the sky,
Dry up the Jordan River,
Part the Red Sea for his children
And calm the sea with a Word,
Then how much more will he care for us on our river journey?

My Wildflower-a poem

2005-07-20T19:20:00.000-07:00

Tiger Lilies, white carnations and daisies:
These are a few of the flowers
That intrigue me, and soothe me
With their colors and scents.

In life there are many entoxicating flowers
That may entice my senses,
But there is a flower I am searching for-
The one wildflower I'm to have.

What does this wildflower look like?
To be honest, I'm not sure.
All I know is that this wildflower
Is a one-of-a-kind, unique flower.

She is in need of a rescue from
The thorn bushes that threaten to strangle her life away.
I'm on a quest to find her,
But there is no map or markers.

This is an adventure in the making,
It may be a long or short journey,
But the fun will be in the search
For my wildflower that God has chosen for me.

Hollowness-a poem

2005-07-19T23:04:00.000-07:00

I miss my father today.
I hear a song that reminds me
Of the man he used to be,
And I can't hold back the tears.

A good couple of friends
Comfort me with embraces
And sincere, heartfelt encouragements.
I am thankful for their support.

I think of how dad has wounded me,
And I am saddened-
For not only has he hurt me,
But my whole family too.

There is a brief moment where I
Long for everything to magically
Return to how it used to be.
I know, however, it will take long to make all right.

I am still hurting as a young man,
And it will take dad's return for the
Pain to subside, but there is hope.
Hope that God the Father will break him.

I keep moving through life,
Facing challenges and joys
Amidst the hollowness of a broken world-
Praying, hoping, waiting and sojourning....

A Fierce Blow-a poem

2005-06-16T13:28:00.000-07:00

The rebels destruction
Of my master's weapon
Has set us back,
But has made my master determined to crush them.

My search for my son
Has yielded no results thus far.
He is on the run with the rebels,
And has become a key leader.

Finally, we located their new base
And flushed them out into the open,
Scattering them across the galaxy,
And the young man fleeing for shelter.

The boy has run far,
But soon he will be in my grasp...
Wait-he has vanished...
Fascinating, how strong he is.

Now I will turn my attention
To the boy's friends
And draw him out
Through his friends' suffering.

I hire several mercenaries
To search for the boy's friends
And finally one finds them.
The trap is set...

I await the boy,
Already I can feel him
Drawing closer, more powerful than before.
All the better for when I defeat him.

The boy arrives and I lead him
Right to me-and we fight.
He is powerful indeed,
And I attempt to break him.

He has been trained well
And resists me thoroughly.
So I take away his hand, and weapon.
Now he must listen to me.

He is naive, and has been lied to.
So I give him the truth-
That I am his father.
Of course, he doesn't believe me.

He refuses my final offer
Choosing instead to leap to certain doom.
He has a strong will.
He reminds me of myself so much.

I reach out to him mentally
But he refuses me again,
In time he will be ready to face te truth.
Not today however. So I wait...

Foolish Hope-a poem

2005-06-16T13:19:00.000-07:00

It has been many years
Since the Order was crushed.
The emperor has given me
Much power and control.

A band of rebels resists
Our control of the galaxy.
If they would stop struggling
There would be order in things.

My master's plans for the ultimate weapon
Have been stolen by the rebels,
But their attempts will be futile.
No one can stand against my master and I.

The princess has been captured,
But she does not have the plans.
If she will not co-operate
Then she will die a traitor's death.

I sense something-
A power, lying dormant for years.
Could it be my old master?
If so, he should pray we do not meet...

There is something else though,
A power-untapped potential.
A young boy under the old man's tutelage.
Perhaps he may be a servant to my master.

My old master and I face again.
He is not looking to escape though,
So I am uncertain for a moment.
However, my hatred is greater and I cut him down in anger.

The boy with him is the host
Of the power that I sensed.
I begin to see both a threat,
And a powerfull ally...

The boy is indeed strong-
He managed to destroy my master's weapon,
Using his new found abilities.
I have been removed for the time being.

I will not rest till I find the boy.
The resemblance in abilities
Combined with the old man's tutelage
May mean that he is my son...

The True Master-a poem

2005-06-16T12:56:00.000-07:00

Things are dangerous now,
A war is at out doorstep
And the Order is stretched thin.
I have been granted knighthood though...

The Chancellor has been kidnapped
So my master and I go to save him.
Our former foe is there, and we face off.
My master is down and again I am alone.

My powers are stronger though
And I take my revenge-
Where he took one of my hands
I take both-and his head.

I felt great power in my anger,
And wonder if there is more to be had.
We return, my master and I,
With the Chancellor, as heroes.

The war continues and I sense
A strong power on the planet.
The Council still holds me back.
Refusing me the rank of master.

The Chancellor makes me
His personal representative on the Council
And I accept his offer.
He is a good man.

The visions still occur
And I see my wife, now pregnant,
Dying, and fear grips my heart.
I will not lose her, like I lost my mother...

The Chancellor offers me great power,
Revealing that he is a crafty man.
I report him to the Council,
And they threaten to remove him.

I cannot allow this.
The Chancellor may able to save my wife,
And I will do anything to save her...
So I strike down the lone surviving Counicl member.

I realize the lies the Order fed me,
And become the true master of my destiny,
Aiding the chancellor is cleansing the Republic,
And bringing peace to the galaxy.

None can stand against my might,
I show the traitors of the Order no mercy-
Not even the women and children are innocent to me.
I complete my tasks, and embark to finish the job.

I arrive on the volcanic world
And put down the opposition leaders.
None survive against my power,
And I restore order to chaos.

My wife finds me,
Pleading for me to stop.
She brings my traitorous master,
And I realize she has betrayed me.

For a brief moment I lose control,
Turning on her in anger.
My master threatens me,
And we do battle together.

He is weak and afraid,
For I have grown stronger than he.
We duel across the breadth of
The molten planet surface.

He retreats, thinking that he has the advantage.
Clearly he underestimates my power.
I charge him, but he counters me.
No! Impossible!

I lay defeated, and defenseless.
He has surely betrayed me!
He pleads for me to come back once more,
But I would rather die!

Then the fire passes over me,
Disfiguring my remaining flesh.
I cry in agony and watch as he
Takes my sword and leaves me to die.

Somehow I force myself up the hill,
Summoning all of my strength to do so.
My new master arrives,
And saves me from certain death.

I fade in and out,
As my master fights to save my life.
Slowly the pain subsides,
And I am transformed...

I have been restored,
My old master has failed to kill me.
However, I learn of my wife's death
And my heart is wrung with grief and anger.

Thus do I swear to forever hunt
My old master until he pays
For taking my love and life
Away from me...

Better Than This-a poem

2005-06-15T22:29:00.000-07:00

It has been ten years since I began.
My skills and powers have grown quickly.
My master sees this, but still says
That I'm not ready.

I know that I am though.
I can take everything the Order
Has given me and more,
I'm ready for the trials!

My new assignment is to protect her.
I haven't seen her in ten years,
But I have never stopped thinking of her.
I try to focus, but it's almost impossible.

My master seems only to see my faults,
Never my good qualities and traits.
It's almost as if he fears my powers,
And I wonder if that's why he's holding me back.

I find the Chancellor's advice
Is the only encouragement I receive.
He seems to understand my frustrations,
And sympathizes with my concerns.

Included in my vast powers
Seem to be visions of the future.
It is a gift I sometimes feel is a curse,
For I seem to see my mother always.

She's in trouble!
I rush to find her, but I'm too late.
The creatures who did this are animals,
So I show them no mercy-they all die.

Then my master is in trouble.
It seems trouble always finds him.
My rescue attempt isn't successful,
But the Order has found us, and helps.

My master and I face one old man,
But I soon learn appearances are deceiving.
I face him alone, confident in my skills,
And pay dearly for my pride.

He escapes, but we will meet again.
I receive a new arm, and kick myself for being stupid.
How did I lose?
I'm better than this!

I return her to her homeworld,
And there we secretly marry.
I couldn't be any happier,
But I am afraid of the future...

Flying on Dreams-a poem

2005-06-15T22:21:00.000-07:00

I am only a boy,
But I dream of great things.
I am the best mechanic around,
And yet I am only nine.

I am a slave,
But it will not always be so.
I dream of being a heroic knight
And freeing the galaxy.

My mother is all I have,
I don't know what would happen
If I ever lost her.
One day things will be different...

Then the strangest thing happens,
I meet the girl of my dreams-
Even though she is older than me,
I feel like marrying her is destined to happen.

With her is a famous knight,
Like I've heard of in stories.
He frees me and promises
To look after me, and train me.

My mother has to stay,
And I'm scared.
I'm scared of losing her,
And I'm scared of the future.

We travel to a distant planet
Where all the knights live,
And I am brought before them
And tested to see if I may train.

The girl I met returns home to save her land.
The knights face a horrible creature
And I too fight.
I'm a pretty good pilot-I think.

Then my wildest dream comes true,
And I save everyone.
But not everything is well-
The knight who freed me has died.

I am saddened that he is gone,
But his student has promised to train me.
I will never forget what the knight did,
And I will make him proud...

Formidable Foe-a poem

2005-06-15T22:11:00.000-07:00

Some time has passed now.
My newly rebulit weapon is ready,
And soon I will crush the rebellion!
My apprentice's son has also grown stronger.

I foresee this boy
Seeking out his father
And then coming to me.
I anticipate this very highly.

The boy makes himself weak,
All for hope and friends-
What foolish notions those are.
Power and domination are all that matter.

My apprentice has felt different
Since his first encounter with the boy.
Some of his thoughts wander,
But he is still strong with hatred.

I have allowed the rebels
To "obtain" the plans for this weapon,
In order to draw them out
And crush them once and for all.

Very shortly things will be right again.
And this boy, once a formidable foe,
Will become my greatest asset of all.
It's only a matter of time.

As I predicted, the boy seeks out his father,
Hoping to turn him to good.
It is in vain,
And then he is brought before me.

He is emotionally stronger than his father,
An unexpected obstacle,
But all the better when his will is crushed!
This boy will yet be turned.

I taunt him, feeding off his anger
Until he is provoked into battle.
His father intervenes for me,
And they duel.

His father is almost beaten,
But he refuses my offer of power.
No one refuses me!
And so I strike him with my powers.

Without warning, his father turns on me.
I am hoisted in the air,
Then I fall,
And all is silence...

Young Fool-a poem

2005-06-15T22:02:00.000-07:00

The reconstruction of my weapon
Is once again under way.
My apprentice searches fiercely for the boy,
And steadily forces the rebels into deeper cover.

The boy is becoming more aware
Of the power bottled inside him,
But is unsure of what to do with it.
If only he would come to me...

My apprentice has found
The new rebel base,
And is flushing them out
Like the vermin they are.

The boy is leaving his friends
And travelling to....
Wait, I have lost him!
That is impossible!

Somehow he is being shielded,
But not his friends.
I will force him out by
Using them as bait...

My apprentice still searches,
Desperately trying to find him.
I sense the boy to be my follower's son.
Interesting, very interesting...

My apprentice tracks his friends,
Capturing them and waitin,
Waiting for his son to return.
It won't be long now...

Ah, there he is.
He has grown more powerful,
He must have found the sage
And learned more mastery of his power.

I order my apprentice
To capture him and bring him to me.
I will teach him all he needs.
The boy has a strong will though.

My apprentice reveals to the boy the truth
And he is flung into confusion.
He escapes narrowly, with his friends
And goes into hiding.

No matter,
Soon enough the young fool
Will resurface,
And then his destiny will be mine...

Quelling the Masses-a poem

2005-06-15T21:54:00.000-07:00

Thirty years have passed
Since my ultimate power was acquired.
My apprentice has served me faithfully,
Conquering all that I desire.

A rebellion has arisen,
Seeking to battle me on the political
And military fronts.
How foolish they are in their thinking.

I have built the ultimate weapon
That will crush all the rebels worked for.
Only the princess has our plans
For this weapon-she must be stopped.

I sense something-
Quite faint, but similar to my apprentice.
An unpolluted power that has yet
To be discovered...

The princess is captured,
But the plans have been given over.
The rebels must not obtain them!
No matter, they will be found soon enough.

There, again-an older power.
Could it be my apprentice's old master?
The other source is with him,
A young man I think.

This is curious, and I must focus.
My apprentice faces the old man now,
Defeating him easily,
Revenge for his wounds of long ago.

The other power continues on-
I sense fear and uncertainty
In this one, but also courage and hope.
What foolish concepts.

Wait-No!
My weapon has been destroyed!
It is impossible!
The boy has destroyed my weapon!

He is strong, and perhaps useful.
My apprentice will find him,
Quelling the rebel masses along the way.
And I will rebuild my weapon...

Turning of the Tide-a poem

2005-06-15T21:38:00.000-07:00

Several years have passed now.
My apprentice is training another,
And he himself grows weaker.
His usefulness is drawing short...

I stage my "capture" by the opposition,
Drawing the boy to my rescue.
His anger and passion make him strong,
And he cuts down my old apprentice.

I continue to mentor him,
Maintaining the illusion until the time is right.
Only now are the members of the Order
Beginning to suspect my presence.

There is not much time left.
I must reveal myself to the boy-
If he turns on me, all is lost.
But I do not sense he will do so.

He is aware of my presence now.
I entice him with promises of power
And glory, if he stands with me.
He is at a crossroads now...

I foresee the Order coming,
And plant seeds of doubt in him
As to their intentions.
He returns to them and reveals my identity.

The Masters of the Order arrive,
Attempting to strip me of my power.
All but one fall swiftly to my sword.
The final master is stronger than I thought...

The boy arrives and is forced to choose-
Side with the Order, or with me.
With no hesitation, he cuts down the master
And my new apprentice is born...

I initiate him, then set him to task
To fulfill my plans of domination.
His skill and power are unparalleled,
Thus beginning the turning of the tide...

Under his sword the Order all but
Vanishes within a night.
The army I created turns on the Order,
Destroying them and defeating the opposition.

My goal is nearly complete.
Only two now stand in my way-
The boy's old master and the sage.
I prepare for one final battle...

With the Order destroyed,
The boy then removes the leaders
Of the opposition, without mercy-
Sparing no one. He learns quickly...

I sense the boy and his old master,
I have taught the boy well.
I face the sage and we clash.
He is strong, but no match for me.

He flees, disgraced and cowardly
And goes into hiding.
I cannot follow him though,
My new apprentice is in danger.

I feel his pain on the molten world,
His master has dealt a severe blow.
I cannot lose this one!
He is my most powerful apprentice.

I hurry to his aid.
What I find is a grisly sight.
He is burned beyond recognition
And severely crippled.

Only technology can save him.
He is reborn, of wire and metal-
A perfect blend of evil,
With a heart of hatred.

His wife has died,
And this fuels his hatred.
Now I and he shall rule
With unquestioned authority...

Mere Puppets-a poem

2005-06-15T21:28:00.000-07:00

It has been ten years
Since I have gained more power.
The boy has grown strong in his abilities,
Under the tutelage of the Order.

Still I am undetected,
Corrupting more of the politicians
And weaving a web of lies
That suit my purposes.

I have found another apprentice,
One formerly of the Order
Embittered in heart, and poisoned in thought.
He has, and will, suffice-for now.

He gathers to himself
Disgruntled forces in politics,
Longing for something more than servitude,
And leads a faction that splinters the system.

Meanwhile, I have secretly
Invested in a createable army,
Unbeknownst to the Order or the politicians.
Very shortly they will be needed...

The Order stumbles onto the truth
About this army, and puts them to use,
Sooner than I expected.
They are all mere puppets.

The boy seeks my counsel regularly,
Believing every morsel of wisdom
I feed him.
Very soon he will be ready for my training.

The boy's present teacher
Leads him and the Order to
My apprentice's hidden base,
And unleash my army against the other.

My apprentice faces the boy and his master.
They are no match for him, and he escapes.
The boy has suffered a loss though,
Much to my dismay.

I can practically smell the fear and anger in him.
But there is also a love, which can be exploited.
The boy's time is almost at hand.
It will not be long till he is my servant...

Preying on the Weak-a poem

2005-06-15T21:16:00.000-07:00

The Order believes our kind extinct.
But the fools grow weak in their powers.
They are stagnant and fading,
Presenting a formidable opportunity.

I take up politics,
Using silky words to win the people,
Preying on the weak,
And maintaining a strong facade.

I use my master's teachings
To my advantage-
Training my own apprentice
In malice and cruelty.

I work my way up the ranks quickly,
Using people's impatience to my advantage
And usurping the powers of the just
To endorse my ulterior motives.

I have many pawns,
Most of which are disposable
In a moment's notice.
How foolish they all are.

My plan will take much time to fulfill
But I can wait,
Like the snake waits
For the right moment to strike.

My apprentice faces two members of the Order-
Defeating one, and being overcome by the other.
He is a disgrace, and so I must find
A new apprentice who will serve my purpose.

Remarkably a small boy found by the Order
Possesses many skills, unharvested yet.
I shall keep my eye on this one,
For he may prove to be useful...

Those of the Order are aware
Of an evil presence,
Never suspecting me.
They are all weak.

The forces of good have gained
A temporary victory,
A thing of inferiority,
Compared to my grand design....

Destiny At Hand-a poem

2005-06-15T20:54:00.000-07:00

The struggle continues.
I have learned much,
And I hope it is enough for the task
Of saving a dear friend.

I am outnumbered,
But I am confident of my skills.
The princess has attempted to rescue
My friend, but has also been caught.

The vile creature who holds them
Is tricky, but not wise.
I free my friend with some help,
And the princess dispatches the crime lord.

We escape, and I return to my master
To complete my training
Just as I promised I would.
I learn that he is dying, and I am saddened.

I ask him for the truth,
About the monster I faced,
And whether he really is my father.
My fear is confirmed, and I am further horrified.

My master tells me I will become a knight
Only when I face my father again,
And arise victorious against him-
I do not know if I can do it...

Then my master tells me of another-
A sister I never knew, and joy grips me.
This joy is smothered by my master's death-
As he vanishes into thin air, just as Ben did.

I am unsure of the next part of my journey.
I have a sister, and a monster for a father,
And many questions clutter my mind.
Then Ben appears to me again....

He answers my questions the best he can,
And reveals my sister's identity.
It is the princess, and apparently she has powers like I have.
Ben warns me to guard my thoughts about this.

I begin to wonder if my father may be saved.
He is still somewhat human, underneath the surface,
And I do not want to give up hope.
I must try, ot my training will be for nothing.

Before I leave I talk with her-
My sister, so much fairer now that I know,
And I tell her of our connection,
Also of the power in our blood.

She begs me not to face our father.
But I cannot abandon hope.
My destiny is at hand,
And the fate of the future is my burden.

I meet him on neutral terms,
And we speak.
He is impressed by my new skills,
And sees my potential for his cause.

I will not stray-I cannot!
My final test has begun-
Now he will take me to his master,
Who will try to dissuade me.

His master is pure evil,
A man of smooth talk and cunning,
But I know my course-
I will not give in.

My power of resistance is chipped at,
And I give in to anger,
Attempting to strike my father's master.
I am playing into his hands.

My father and I battle again,
But I feel his internal conflict.
He wants me as an ally, and as his son,
But he knows this cannot be.

He plumbs my soul looking for weaknesses
And learns of my sister-
He threatens to turn her, if I will not join him
And a demon in me is released.

I attack him senselessly and mercilessly,
And take from him what he first took from me.
He is at my mercy, and I could kill him now.
But I do not want that.

When I refuse to dispatch him,
His master turns on me, unleashing his powers.
I am going to die, and I know it.
I call upon my father through the pain, hoping and pleading...

Then through the pain, I hear his master shriek.
He is flung into an abyss, and my father lies dying.
He is no longer a monster to me,
But truly becomes family.

He lays dying in my arms,
A different person-redeemed by his actions.
I have accomplished what I set out to do
And now I know that I am a knight.

I give my father an honorable death-
A pyre, the death of a hero.
I am unsure of the future,
But I know it is hopeful.

I can only pray that I have
The knowledge to teach others
The ways of the old order
And guide the heroes of tomorrow...

Alone and Afraid-A poem

2005-06-15T20:38:00.000-07:00

My friends and I have joined
The rebels, living in isolation
On this icy rock-cornered, seemingly.
I feel the evil coming-steadily.

A creature, native to the terrain
Blindsides me, and I feel blunt pain.
I awake in it's lair bound and immobile.
I summon my powers and draw my sword to me.

I free myself, wound the beast
And escape into the frigid outdoors.
I am weak, but I must keep moving.
Ben appears to me and instructs me with what to do next...

I lose consciousness, and dream.
When I awaken I am back at base-
Healed, and I bear a new goal.
I am to travel alone to a swamp world...

I leave my friends,
Filled with a mixture of fear and excitement.
I crash in a swamp and set out
To find one of Ben's old teachers.

He is not what I expect,
But discover that appearances are deceiving.
He is very wise and teaches me much.
Under him I become more aware of my powers.

My abilities grow steadily,
The journey is long and hard at times.
I begin to sense another world-
A world of incredible power and magic.

Then I see a vision-
My friends are dying.
I cannot lose them,
So I leave to save them.

I discover, too late, it is a trap.
I am alone and afraid,
But I trust in my new abilities.
Then I face the murderous black monster...

We fight, and I discover his strength.
He underestimates me at first,
But then realizes my fear of him.
He defeats me, taking my hand and my sword.

He tempts me with a powerful offer,
But I refuse him-knowing that he killed my father.
His next words pierce me to the soul:
"I am your father."

This can't be! I cannot be the son of a monster!
I would rather die than surrender,
So I escape by only a leap of faith,
And I am rescued by my friends.

My mind is in turmoil.
The dark hearted monster's words echo
Within my very bones,
And I am confused.

I sense him as we flee,
He and I now share a bond.
I long for someone to wake me
From this hellish nightmare.

Ben, why didn't you tell me?
I cannot fathom the reasons,
And the truth seems distant.
Could I become that monster too?

All these thoughts and more
Pummel my brains and senses.
Again I pass out,
Giving way to feverish nightmares...

I am recovering from my physical wounds,
Beginning with a new synthetic hand.
I realize that my journey is not complete,
But I am unsure of what the future holds...

A Life Surreal-A poem

2005-06-15T20:27:00.000-07:00

I've lived here all my life
In this desert place-
Cut off, and isolated,
With only my aunt and uncle for company.

My uncle seems to be worried,
And finds new ways
To keep me occupied,
As if he fears I'll run away.

To be honest, I'd run if I could.
But I have nowhere else to go.
Most of my friends have gone,
Yet here I remain.

One day my uncle buys this robot.
I clean him up and discover
A hidden message for
An old man named Ben.

My uncle claims he died,
But I found him shortly enough.
He tells me of my father,
That he was a brave knight.

I really can't believe it,
But my father's sword is proof enough.
Ben offers to teach me, just as with my father.
But I am frightened.

I return home to find my family dead,
And my life destroyed.
I wonder if destiny is calling me
To follow the wise old man on his journey.

We pass through many places shortly
And learn of a threat to the galaxy,
A weapon large enough to kill planets.
It is clear that we must stop it.

Along the way I make some new friends,
And end up rescuing a princess too.
This seems like an unusual dream...
Ben has a different task ahead though.

I watch him get cut down
By a black suited tyrant
And once again feel lost, and alone.
Yet somehow I can feel him...

My friends and I then embark
To destroy the global weapon.
We are close to defeat-
But Ben guides me to victory.

My friends and I are heroes
But I sense a looming dark approaching.
The black suited monster is coming,
And I am afraid of what's to come....

Absolute Peace-a poem

2005-06-08T21:52:00.000-07:00

The final conflict draws near.
The boy is more powerful
And has learned wisdom,
Something his father never learned.

He has rescued most of his friends
But he must save one final friend.
His loyalty and bravery bring me affirmation that I have done right.
So much he is like a knight of the Order.

He accomplishes this and soon returns
To complete his training.
Unfortunately, his master lies dying.
The boy is almost ready now...

The boy learns the truth of his father
Abd is almost ashamed of it.
Yet he holds hope for his father,
Believing that he too can be saved.

His master, my friend,
Tells him his training will be finished
Once he faces his father
And triumphs over he and his master's evil.

My master, then joins me in the ethereal.
Time is drawing short for us.
I offer the boy some final words of wisdom,
And an encouragement as well.

I tell him of his long lost sister,
And he seems to know it already.
We part as friends and he continues on
To complete his journey alone.

He must leave his friends too.
It is hard, but he tells his sister
The precious secret they share:
Of their blood and the power within it.

It is then he departs
To face his demons and fears.
He has remarkable determination
And refuses to fight his father.

He comes close to caving,
But refuses again to give in to the pressure.
This almost cost him,
As his father's master turns on him.

Then the unbelievable happens-
My old apprentice redeems himself
Killing his master to save his son.
But his master's power destroyed him too.

The boy has done it though-
He has redeemed both his father and I,
Taken his place as a knight of virtue,
And restored absolute peace to everything around him...

Dark Trial-a poem

2005-06-08T21:06:00.000-07:00

The boy is growing stronger every day.
Yet there is still so much innocence
I wonder if he will be ready
For the dark trial ahead...

He has fled with the rebels,
Running from the evil that destroys
Everything it touches and treads on.
He will need much guidance.

He is in trouble again,
Much like when I first found him.
I guide him to a sagely old friend
Who will help him complete his training.

He finds my old council mate
In a very remote place
And begins his rigorous training.
He learns fast, but doubts himself.

He faces his fears,
Learns to control his emotions,
But he still has far to go.
He is our last hope...

As his powers grow,
So does his confidence.
He becomes more aware
Of the world around him.

He has learned much,
But sense his friends' danger.
He wishes to leave and help,
But he is not ready.

He is headstrong,
And believes he can save his friends.
He is unaware though of the truth.
The truth about his monstrous father.

He faces his father,
And is defeated,
But still he is defiant.
Then the truth is revealed...

The boy is crushed in spirit.
But refuses an offer of power.
He is injured physically.
But it is nothing compared to his emotional turmoil.

He escapes, and is recovering
But now fears what he may become.
He will return when the time is right,
But first he must conquer his confusion....

Redemption-a poem

2005-06-08T19:58:00.000-07:00

It has been some thirty odd years
Since my apprentice destroyed my world.
I stil struggle to sleep peacefully.
Then one day, a flicker in my mind....

The boy's time has come.
I sense he is in danger,
And come quickly to his aid.
Can I hope he is pure of heart?

Apparently he was looking for me-
Does it happen any other way?
I release to him his father's sword
And I see a spark of adventure in him.

We journey far and wide,
Myself a master again,
With a new apprentice,
And he himself hungry to learn.

Our journies bring us odd companions,
And trouble, it seems, still knows my name.
I am a help to the boy,
But this one walks a different path.

Our travels force us into the open.
I must face my old apprentice alone.
He has been changed,
Assuming a monstrous shape-barely human.

Still the same strengths were his,
But unlike he, my exile taught me new things.
He hesitates, I make my peace
And he slices me down with hate.

I am on a different plane of life now,
An ethereal state that few know.
The boy believes me gone,
But I am with him now more than ever.

I continue to guide him distantly.
I am confident that the boy
Will fulfill the role abandoned
By the monster, who is his father.

He triumphs over evil,
Using the things I taught him.
I have found a sense of peace,
Knowing my redemption lies with him...

Blinded By Failure-a poem

2005-06-08T19:40:00.000-07:00

Master, times grow dark.
Your presence seems shrouded
By a cloud of darkness and evil.
I fear something horrible is here...

The men I have led in battle
Have turned on me and rebelled.
I am discovering this has happened
To many of the Council members already.

It is a travesty beyond my knowledge,
So I return secretly home
To discover only one old friend still lives,
Through his cunning and foresight.

The temple is a death zone,
And I learn the terrible truth-
That my pupil, master, the boy!
Has betrayed the Order and all it means.

Now the task is mine alone
To track him down and face him
Man to man, master to apprentice.
I fear that I may not triumph...

I arrive at his location
And try to understand
What has caused his betrayal.
He has clearly been polluted.

His new master has poisoned him.
I cannot allow the evil to spread.
I beg him to reconsider,
But he will not hear of it.

We clash, as titans of myth and legend.
Our weapons lock in combat,
Our powers piercing the air around.
My true trial is now at hand.

H e is strong, but not wise.
He is proud, but not sensible.
Thus does he reap his own demise.
Three sure blows and he falls.

As he lays dying he screams
Loathe words at me and
They pierce like our sabres cut.
Thus was it clear-the man I knew was already dead.

I take his sword as a bitter token
And leave him to his fate
His secret bride has born twins, and so
I take the boy, and leave-an exile.

I will watch the boy,
Praying that he does not become his father.
One day, when he's ready
I may redeem myself again in this child...

Growing Uncertainty-a poem

2005-06-08T19:27:00.000-07:00

Master, it has been ten years
Since I took the boy
Under my care.
His skills have grown rapidly.

In him I see much of myself
All those years ago,
Under your tutelage.
Arrogance, passion and more exist in him.

He is powerful,
More powerful than I
Could ever hope to be.
But he seems to lack wisdom.

I also sense much fear and anger
Just below the surface.
I worry for him,
And wish he could see it.

He is easily distracted
By his recent reunion with her.
I sense much love in him for her,
And hope that he can stay focused.

Master, I only want what's best for him
But he resists and fights me constantly.
Never have I known a fiestier learner.
I feel I'm losing the battle...

He is valiant when he chooses to be,
Such as his recent attempt to rescue me.
Then we faced your old master,
And felt a malice of terrible strength.

My pupil saved me from death,
But the gesture was not without consequences.
He was greatly injured in the battle,
And had to practice hard and begin again.

He has returned her to the safety
Of her distant home,
And left me here to ponder looming matters.
All is not well abroad I fear...

I bear now growing uncertainty,
As well as the mantle you passed master.
Desperately seeking serenity
And answers that continue to evade.

What lies ahead is uncertain,
More so for my young pupil I think.
The council fears an evil lurks unseen,
And I am inclined to believe them...

From the Ashes-a poem

2005-06-07T19:37:00.000-07:00

The prairies sing in the wind.
The mountains rumble with the thunder.
The orchards burst with aromas sweet.
The jungles roar with life.

For all their beauty however,
They still succumb to disaster:
Tornadoes, fire, tsunamis, and hurricanes
All rage to destroy the beauty.

So they do, but only briefly
For life is a cycle
That destroys to rebuild
And begin anew.

Thus we find that beauty,
Like the legendary phoenix
Burns in old age to be reborn
In fire, from the ashes.

Everybody's Going Somewhere-a poem

2005-06-07T19:14:00.000-07:00

Light speed.
Warp speed.
Speed balls.
Everybody's going somewhere.

Heaven.
Hell.
The Hospital.
Everybody's going somewhere.

The graveyard.
The lumber yard.
The school yard.
Everybody's going somewhere.

Uptown.
Downtown.
Small town.
Everybody's going somewhere.

Disneyland.
The Holy Land.
No man's land.
Everybody's going somewhere.

Back.
Forth.
Due North.
Everybody's going somewhere.

Happy home.
Broken home.
Homeless.
Everybody's going somewhere.

Bus.
Train.
Plane.
Everybody's going somewhere.

Going to work.
Going to bed.
Going to get married.
Everybody's going somewhere.

I could keep going,
And actually I am.
The question then is:
Do you know where you're going?

Heavy Mantle-A poem

2005-06-07T19:00:00.000-07:00

Master, I am not ready.
You have passed on
In battle, victorious
And worthy of song.

They bear you down
Through streets laden
With violets and pansies.
I can't shake this grief...

You taught me well.
You taught me much.
You were like a father to me,
And now you have passed on.

They set you amidst the wood
To be cremated-in keeping with tradition.
As they light the pyre
I feel a strange surge of grief.

Memories of training,
Memories of your encouragements,
Memories of past victories.
But alas, they are only shadows.

You are gone,
Yet your presence lingers.
I can feel you even now,
And I am somewhat comforted.

The horned one who slew you
Has been justly dispatched
By me, through your weapon.
I hope that in time I will feel peace.

Your pyre burns high
And I remember my promise
To train the boy you found.
I will abide by your wishes.

I am barely old enough
For the trials myself,
Yet I am already teaching another.
I only hope I am equal to the task.

I look at the boy nearby, and I smile assuringly.
I hope I can teach him
As well as you taught me.
This mantle is heavy, and I'm afraid.

Yet somehow I know
You will provide me with wisdom
And strength to guide this one
In the paths of the order...

Beyond Comprehension-a poem

2005-06-06T15:22:00.000-07:00

There-just past the audible
Can you hear it?
A still small voice
Calling, "Follow me."

I follow, soon thinking I've "attained"
Only to find I know less
Than when I started.
His hand points down a long road.

I travel, wondering many things,
Wishing many more things.
"No", He says, "I have better for you."
I continue on, turning neither left nor right.

Several points in this trek
I feel I can no longer continue
But He says, "This is a time of strengthening,
Be strong and of great courage."

I am still a sojourner
Seeing in my mind the places I have been
As well as the places I am going.
Only now am I beginning to see shadows of destiny.

"Fear not my son, I AM.
You are forever mine,
But the choice to continue
Is solely in your power.

I will not force your hand."
I adjust my pack
And take step after step
Coming ever closer to purpose.

"I AM", He says.
It echoes in my footprints
And I am comforted,
Knowing He is constant.

Each step is a step of faith.
Trust builds a path before me.
Man's knowledge fails me,
But is replaced by His wisdom.

I am drawing nearer to
My future's silhouette
And still I trust Him.
For He is Beyond Comprehension.

Sparrow-A poem

2005-06-06T15:17:00.000-07:00

When I hunger, the Father feeds me.
When I am cold, the Deliverer wraps His arms around me.
When I weep bitterly, He comforts my soul.
When I am unsure, Christ provides an answer.
When I doubt myself, He reassures me.
When I am lost, the Savior rescues me.
When I have nowhere to go, He becomes the Way.
He cares for the lilies of the field,
He mourns the fall of a sparrow,
How much more abundantly He cares for me.
Praise be to God for His magnificent compassion.

Straight Guy, Tired of the Queer Eye

2005-06-05T20:41:00.000-07:00

I will try my best in explaining this not to bash anyone. I just want to express my feelings here, and hope that there are people out there who understand. I am a single, white and straight male and as such it is becoming increasingly hard to live in today's society. The reason is simple-everything in the media has taken on overtones (or undertones) of the h0mosexual "agenda"-whatever that is.

There is a point when watching the media that some unofficial gay "criteria" surface, and they may include some of the following:

If a man is still single in his twenties and has never had a girlfriend he may be gay.
If a man likes classical music like Beethoven or Mozart, he is probably gay.
If a man is sensitive to those around him, he is probably gay.

Could it not just be that these people just haven't found the right girl? Or that he may have had a classical education? Or that he was raised to care about people other than himself?

By today's standards the answer is generally "no". The reason for this overly simplified look at people is due in part to the fast pace of today's society. Fast food. Fast times. Fast decisions. Fast judgment calls. The other part, I believe, is that people want things that can't be explained to be forced into a category quickly and quietly. Today there is no room for enigmas-of which both men and women can be part of.

There are too many assumptions roaming about, and it hurts people. Because of individualism in North America we look at a person, or what they say, or how they live and try and make comfortable calls-knowing little or nothing about the people. It is quite frustrating that society has made the assumption that two men or more sharing an apartment or a house are automatically gay. I happen to know many straight men who are forced into those arrangements just because of crappy jobs with little pay, or any other assortment of situations. Not to mention the number of good friends that I know who are straight, and live straight in roomie situations. Stereotypes and assumptions need to come to a stop, and it always starts when someone takes the initiative to get to know someone better than just what they see on the surface.

Quotes to think about.

2005-06-05T14:29:00.000-07:00

"You can give without loving, but you can't love without giving."
-Amy Carmichael

"A habit cannot be tossed out the window, it must be coaxed down the stairs one step at a time." -Mark Twain

"Oh God, may I live to have one day of unsullied joy!"
-Ludwig von Beethoven

"There are no unimportant tears." -from Arthur Miller's "After the Fall"

"There is no reason to scream. Screaming is not the thing we're born for."
-from Sam Shephard's "A Lie of the Mind"

"Head knowledge is dead knowledge, but heart knowledge is life."
-Eric Redditt

"Every man dies, not every man really lives." -from Mel Gibson's "Braveheart"