Worthless Pride

I haven't updated this blog in quite a while and I apologize for that...though I do not repent of it. I have been extremely busy and, though I wish I could have made time for this, I simply haven't been able too. Now I have a day off and wanted to post something. This poem is, I think, one of my better ones. It has always awed, and confused me, that God would choose brokenness and foolishness over strength and wisdom in those he calls to his service. Scripture calls us to be broken and I fear that, in modern Christianity, we have elevated brokenness to something that it is not...desirable. I subscribe this to the American culture of wealth and privilege. As a people we do not understand what it means to be broken and so we feel free to elevate this sorry condition to some lofty height, a thing to long for, to seek after, and to laud...but never find. However no one who has been broken desires to be broken again. Brokenness is NECESSARY for Godliness, but it is not desirable, it is painful, humiliating. Brokenness is akin to destruction, and in fact when a think is broken it is one step closer to being destroyed.
This is one of the great mysteries of scripture, that we become useful to God only after we have been broken, after we are no longer of use. Being broken forces us to rely on the Almighty, to trust him, to believe him, to follow him, because we have no other recourse. In this brokenness we become useful. It is a thing that is beyond me.

What pride have I
Standing now on mangled feet
Broken wings beat useless
'Gainst harsh winds of life

I am defeated
Trod down, destroyed
'Naught of use remains
Within my hollowed shell

And in this state of sorrow
You choose me, though
In the midst of pride that
Passed before, I held no value

Now, in my brokenness
I am made complete
In destruction I am whole
In emptiness I am useful

What sorry foolishness is this
That all worthy of pride
Should hold no value, but
The worthless becomes immeasurable?

Fairie Clouds

Relationships are difficult, I know this both from personal experience and from watching others. I know many divorcees, and a few people currently in the midst of that difficult position...decision...all of the above. The following poem is both about the hope for a new relationship to begin and for a broken relationship to heal. It attempts to bridge the divide between those who have always been single and those who are newly single. We are such wholly selfish creatures and it is so easy for us to forget that everyone else is not concerned about us first. We tend to ignore that which we have in favor of that which we desire and we so often forget that when it is a person who we ignore...we may not have them for long. Selfishness in all the myriad of forms it takes can easily destroy us, it takes from us those things we most value because it lies and tells us that they will always be available. Selfishness destroys lives because it leads us to believe that those self-same lives are the most important concern...it allows us to put our wants above other's needs and so we show them such little care. We destroy ourselves.

Two hearts beat as one
Blessed union then betrayed
By selfish similitude
Hearts separate and then, in time, return
Such is the course of life

Run aground on shores of wanting's wiles
Ever far removed from trust's wise pace
One heart beats a mournful tune, longing for his mate
While 'thother sings a wistful song,
'Membring her's as well

And here they sit, so far separate and yet the same
Hoping soon to meet their true desire
Though've never thought what such might be
So they wait and dream and pine,
Missing truth set before them

That such as they might hope to see
Is not truth, yet instead
Distant glamour made of shining dream
Such faerie dust as shrouds their eyes
Clouds all that truest love may hope to bring

May e'er such lovers meet?
Might their glistening eyes be opened yet?
Such will might be as fearfully strong
As world's oh so inviolable turn
But 'tis not true that weaker men have found?

Should glamoured heart then be freed
And clouded eyes be opened yet
Then those self-same eyes be free to see
Such love awaits as puts the dream to shame
And twin hearts be made beholden set

My Judgment

So...I'm honestly not really sure what to say about this poem...it just came to me one day...not really sure where from so I think I'll let it speak for itself.

Death sits astride a pale horse
And fires light his eyes
His baleful gaze sums us up
And clips the ties that bind
Then as we are wandering souls
As pale now as our white king
And following in one accord
His duties do we bring

This mortal verse, my heart protest
His sum should ne'er the full to know
For of his burning eyes and mind
The world has far too much to show

And know we then his fullest name
Should we choose to cry or sing?
We turn away and would not see
Such blessings he bestows
That we would ne'er accept
For fear of loss and life's release
That struggles end and fate decide
Whether I should know heaven's peace

Trees of Life and Love

I have no love life, this isn't a surprise to those of you who actually know me. I write about love, I desire it, I wait for the day when I'll meet my wife and woo her...however, when it comes to the female gender, I am prone to excessive shyness and a wholly undesirable lack of confidence. Sadly in most every other area of my life I am far more confident than I probably have any right to be. Nonetheless, I have no love life, so I write poems about what I would like to have, what I dream of, what I hope for...blah, blah, blah. This poem is actually inspired by one of my favorite Greek myths, it is a story of compassion and commitment, two of my favorite words.

Planted as a seed of hope
Love may grow a mighty tree
A shade under which we might sit
And blend our hearts together

This tree might reach thick roots
Deep into the earth, drawing up
The life-giving water of gentle union
Received through words of grace

Let those words fill my mind
Flow from my heart to my love
Filling our lives with worship
That our well might ne'er run dry

May love 'twine together
Two lives grow as one
These trees of living consciousness
Entwined in lover's embrace

Dawn

Here's another Haiku.

Rising with new day
Glories inescapable
Bring new life to me

Scripture

I love the word of God. It has unimaginable power, the recent movie 'The Book of Eli' did a good job of representing the scripture as being set apart. Gary Oldman's character Carnegie repeats several times the importance of 'having the right words' and that 'they will listen if the words are from the book'. The word of God has the ability to touch the heart, the mind, and the soul unlike anything else I have found. I have read the holy texts of a number of religions including The Book of Mormon, A few of the Hindu texts, The Holy books of Shinto, The scriptures of Tenrikyo, and Lao-Tsu's Dao De Ching among others. I have studied Greco-Roman, Norse, Japanese, and Hindu mythology as well as some Egyptian and Mesopotamian mythology. All of these contain interesting stories, sometimes they are emotionally touching, sometimes they contain wisdom or some seed of truth. However none of them can change the entire person the way Scripture can, none of them contain the power, the authority, or the understanding of humanity that is found in scripture. I love the word of God.

The word of truth
Sits on my lips
And never may recant

For this wondrous book
Of life and joy
My flawed heart doth pant

Its veracity unquestioned
Its flawless words
My life renew

Transporting me
To sweet release
With hope my soul imbue

This simple book
Held now in single palm
Has power yet unknown

To change mens' lives
And teach the wise
To, their understanding, hone

And falling then
From simple men
Precious words, like stars, alight

To draw the foolish
In time's tight grip
Into heaven's height

Freed from sin
And darkness now
By scripture's blessed word

Which from the lips
Of your kind
Messengers they've heard

And now we live
And choose to give
All we are to you

For from your word
The truth we've heard
And given it it's due

The Pride of Life

Everyone deals with pride, either because of their successes, because of their failures, or both. We all tend to view the world with ourselves at its center, it is the great delusion of humanity to believe that we are important. That, in and of ourselves, we matter. I have been considering lately the possibility that all value is extrinsic by nature, I may have mentioned this before. Regardless, we have no value in and of ourselves, what value we do have we hold simply because it is the will of God. Men and woman are given value because God finds value in us...as opposed to God finding value in us because we are intrinsicly valuable. I know, it seems a fine distinction, and yet of such importance. If we understand that we are valuable not because of us, but because of God then suddenly the kosmos is so much bigger, and our place in it so much smaller. The following poem was actually written to my pride, in a moment of anger and frustration at myself, please read it as such.

A nightmare settles behind my eyes
Its vicious requirements drain my life
Drawing upon my thought and breath
'Til there is none remaining within me
My dastardly heart has wrought betrayal
Its wanton desires lend power to the dream
A reality not present but for
This wrenching, pleading, obsequious need
That pulls upon the hems of my sanity
Cleverly disguised as righteous desire
It worms its way into my every action
Passing itself as love, as charity
As my own unabridged holiness
This delusion clouds my perceptions
Corrupts my actions and seeks only
The elevation of self, but at what expense?
And yet I see it not, for its subtlety
Now I name this beast which lives within my breast
This tired affront, I name thee pride.

What Was and What is to Come

We tend to forget the nature of our salvation. We are overwhelmed by the desperate need to earn that which we have been given. We are convinced of our own wickedness, which is completely true for we are desperately wicked creatures. However, our wickedness was taken into account in our salvation. Yet we never fail to find discontent in that which God has given. Unwilling to move out of our guilt and shame, which was set upon the shoulders of Christ, we feel ourselves unworthy. Having to prove our salvation once and again, in such ways that never allow for the true growth of higher minds into the children of God which we should now be.

In guilt we sit, mired in the darkness of the past
Yet forgetful of that great gift showered upon us
Mindful of our continuing sorrow for wrongs
Long ago committed in days of our lesser beings
We shy away from that greatness presently offered
As sons and daughters of God, certain we are undeserving
Of such monumental praise we stand forth
To denounce ourselves for the crimes of our former lives
Unheeding the notion that such grace as was given us
Requires no works of mercy, no stoic resolve of righteousness
For 'twas the gift that set our Lord upon the tree
Freely given and never earned, what once we were
No longer stands, as such, of any great, nor lesser, consequence
Excepting for the purposes of our own self-flagellation
Let us now step forward, mindful not of what came before
But instead of that which is yet to come, that our lives
Might be a sweetly fragrant perfume in the nostrils of God

The Old Man

We were all born to sin, we have carried it with us since the first day of our lives and will do so until the last. Christians are no different in this, we do not have some strange freedom from our sinful desires that magically allows us to overcome temptation whenever confronted. We do however have a choice, something that we never had before our salvation. As the sons and daughters of God we now have the right to turn away from sin and say 'no'. However this right is not easy to exercise, especially when all we once were cries out to again be ensnared by the coils of that which we long to escape. We may choose to refrain from sin, but this does not mean that we will choose to refrain from sin. Such is the source of our daily battle, the new nature against the old that we might daily die to self and allow Christ to live within us.

There is a wicked man
Who lives inside my mind
He seeks that which should not be
Those unholy acts of shame and guilt
Which drive down righteous lives

Beneath a starry sky of sin
This destroyer sleeps inside
Awaiting the day he may awaken
And devour my heart, my mind, my soul
Drawing them down into the maw of oblivion

That in this I might be lost
And he may finally be freed
To walk wickedly within my skin
Working in the world his dark will
That he should be magnified

Save me from myself
Strengthen my weary mind
Lift up my weakened heart
Cleanse my guilty soul
That I might be free

God

He has many names, Yahweh, Jehovah, Elohim, El-Shaddai, Adonai, Jehovah Rafa, Emmanuel, Christ. He has revealed himself to many men, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Moses, Joshua, Joseph, Samuel, David, Isaiah. He has worked his will in the world throughout history and, indeed, is the ultimate author of history. The almighty God is ultimate to all that was, all that is, and all that will be. Scripture tells us that 'by him and for him all things were made.' This is another poem which attempts to honor who he is with meager words, all that we have to offer can never grasp the nature of an infinite God.

Behold he who spread the tapestry of the sky
Who, with mere words, gave the world its girth
Who writ his will upon the tablet of the earth
And sits now enthroned in the heavens on high

He judges the affairs of men, for he is the mighty God
A glorious magistrate, the maker of all history
His full nature hidden in infinite mystery
Yet, as a simple man, this humble world he trod

Behold Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, Lord of all that is
He stands in glory, unified in oh so holy trinity
Greatest of all gods, single in his true divinity
The heavens, the earth, and all that dwell within are his

So stand we now in praise, and with our hearts we worship do
This great and mighty God, who glories in his holy name
And so with humble words we shall increase his sacred fame
Praising name of holy grace and with such wisdom we our words imbue

Darkly Natured

I have put up a couple of poems expressing various aspects of the wickedness of man's nature. This is another in that series, this poem highlights our tendency towards greed and the pride that drives it. We tend to hold on to the idea that we consistently deserve more than we have. Whatever it is that we do have we can never consider it to be enough, instead we always push on, looking for more, trying to take what we don't have, whether by legitimate means or otherwise.

Blood sticks upon my hands
As mighty Mammon strides across my mind
His great blade sweeping away before him
All those upon whom fall his burning eyes

Black fires rage across my thoughts
Oily smoke rising from long burnt flesh
And through this smoke I lead you, my child
Across the fields of my forsaken ideals

My only child, my beloved, I shall consume your mind
And sacrifice your purity upon the altar of greed
For I am Avarice and Pride
The beating heart of man

Death from Life and Life from Death

First of all if there are typos in this then please forgive, I sliced open a finger on a broken glass today and it has affected me ability to type as speedily and correctly as normal.
My salvation was...unusual to say the least. I make no secret of the fact that before I was saved I was 'a bad person', God did not get a hold of my heart through a message, or a book, or even a friend, though all of these had their influence...in fact God did not really get a hold of my heart at all. At least, not at the point of my salvation, that came significantly later.
When I was saved it was a matter of surrender. I did not love God, but I could not fight him any longer. I gave up and gave my life to him, I suppose this is why the comparison of Christians as the slaves and belongings of God is so important to me personally.
This poem reflects some of that attitude of unwilling surrender to a divine and loving savior.

Exhaustion fills me, draws upon my mind
Leading to wicked desires of every sordid kind
And all my good and godly will do such desires bind
Leaving within me no joy for any man to find

My eyes have closed, my heart has stopped
And now my flesh begins to rot
Living death or dying life, neither have I sought
But one has found, the other claimed, with blood my soul's been bought

So this life I lead is not my own
Nor breath, nor blood, nor solid bone
Within me seed of righteousness was sown
And now, through time and trial, has it grown

Now such wickedness my mind does flee
Night flows away and now the light I see
Hope renewed and joy as well in such divine decree
Chains of shame strike the ground and I find that I am free

Prayer

So often I find myself concerned with everything this world has to offer, I ignore God in order to focus on me. It is such an easy trap to fall into, especially through prayer. How often do I see my own wisdom, my own wants, my own hurts as being all-important, as standing before everything else. I pray to God and ignore his wants, his desires, his intentions, because the only thing I can think about is what I want. This is the gist of the following poem.

Who am I to speak to you
To call upon your name and ask for you my will to do
To raise my hands in arrogant supplication
Demanding from you unjust reparation
That my own selfish needs might be sated
My self-glorifying wants be thence created
Though my deepest needs I know are few
And, so oft, ignoring them; I, with need, my wants imbue
So little ever caring for my eternal destination
Seeing in it no convenient present application
Now my own eternal destiny I have hated
And though, for Christ, to heaven I am fated
I fall low and fear this is not my fairest due
But knowing I stand upon the rock, knowing Christ is true
That with him I shall have my eternal habitation
And hope in death to find, though undeserving, commendation
Now, in this life, though I do better know, my thoughts are jaded but then
In eternity I shall find the righteousness for which I've fought and waited

A Healing Way

This is another poem that I wrote for a friend's birthday.

Compassion's spark doth lead the way
A peaceful, healing touch to follow
Joyful repose compassion brings
And in it's absence life is hollow

Loving grace on life descends
Leading the way to living light
Bitterness a long distant memory
Lost in mercy's graceful flight

Life's cares are e'er present
New worries always looming
The joys of life may fade away
A wilting rose ne'er blooming

When worry doth o'erwhelm
The father's trust remind
This world is but a misting glance
The truth the veil behind

Power of Eternal Death

This is actually a poem written for one of the people groups in the fantasy world in which I write short fiction. The people group are very dark, worshipping a very dark, bloody god. They are the single most influential power in this world, though they do not rule the world or any such thing, but they do command a large empire the effect of which can be felt across the world. This poem, 'written' by a fictional poet within the world who has yet to be named shows the people groups emphasis on and obsession with death.

Death succumbs to death
Darkness closes with the night
And the pit drinks me in
To drown within the void

Soiled blood for power drawn
Lines of worshipful cant
Renewing the force
Of death's ample grasp

Polished bones stand at dignified attention
Awaiting the silent bidding of war
Stentorian roar and battles clangor
Offer no detriment to death's embrace

Glinting white beneath the sun
Silent but for armor's metallic grate
Bone and iron marches forth
To stain the blazing sand with blood

Death ever follows after blood
That dark dragon drinking in the dusk
Lesser beings fall beneath the tide
Of war's eternal remembrance

The arms of men and giants
Hold no power against our god
Great Sehalel marches on before
And ever after follow the Neshelim

Circle of Hope

We all have times of doubt, times of depression, times when we are wonder about the goodness of God, or the fairness of life. At times it seems as though God is tormenting us, that he laughs at our despair and scoffs at our fervent prayers for release or blessing. It can be very easy to doubt God's goodness, and even his kindness and justice. However those of faith always, inevitably, return to that point of trust. When the time comes to choose, do I trust God to work this out or to I leave him to the side and do it myself those of faith, in the midst of their doubt and concern, decide to trust God, not because it is easy, but because it is right. This poem seeks to show the emotional nature of this cycle.

Woeful new and tragedy beride my tired mind
As reasons siren call my fraught desires bind
And summons forth cold faculty to leave my heart behind

What rampant waste desires bring and leave behind such ash
All sought upon the burning plain and under heats harsh lash
And through all he stands above filled with glee, my striven hopes to dash

Such cruel enmity I've earned that drives to this despair
And sets upon the face of God such spiteful mask of care
That sends this sodden soul to look to hope and tarry there

That when this soiled hope is then unmasked and of a sudden dies
My helpless heart, yet innocent, is struck, then riven, and calcifies
Then he stands unveiled, masks removed, revealed in his lies

And yet I ask, but what if I am so completely wrong?
May I know my fate? So certain the he should laugh at that for which I long?
Might he not, instead, sate my need in his good time and so bring me to song?

And so to hope I then return, though foolishly, cruel mask or maybe not
For this poor unworthy soul is not yet that which to be I ought
And perhaps I must show forth true trust that you shall gift to me my lot

Failures

So, I write Haiku sometimes, or at least I try my hand at writing Haiku. This several months ago and it kind of displays how I feel about my life right now.

In peaceful repose I sit
Contemplating many failures
Hoping to correct them

Vagaries of Hope

I actually wrote this for a friends birthday. Originally I wasn't going to post it, thinking that it would somehow make it less special or less personal or something. However after rethinking this I realized that it probably should, and hopefully will, be viewed as an honor.

Joyful lived taken in beautiful symmetry
Hopeful enthusiasm exudes delight
In dying light a fire breaks
To bring a new day's wondrous sight

Though joy may give way to sorrow
And bring regrets unknown
Trusting minds and loving hearts
Can heal pains o'er ages grown

Though fickle life pain may bring
Unpredictable in crashing waves of vicissitude
Trust to hope and gracious plans of God
That ancient ways still a power hold

Pain will pass and in it's wake
Trust and love and faith shall spring
For ever doth great El Shaddai
See patient plans take wing

The Fate of Man

So, I had in mind the ultimate fate of sin, and the fact that it is a thing which we, as men, so richly deserve. With that in mind the following is what appeared upon my mind, then flowing through my pen onto the pages of my notebook, then to be transcribed onto my computer and finally posted here...forgive me if I wax dramatic.

The infinite gesture of man disgorge
An unseemly variety of selfish desires
Which challenge the borders of propriety
And draw man into the depths of sinful commission

These vagrant, silent solicitations portend
Man's so rightful fate of infernal torment
Lest he bend his knee in submitting supplication
To he whose right it is to judge the fate of souls

Precious Words

I love the scriptures, the word of God is amazing in its depth, its precision, its veracity, and its broadness. I consider myself fairly widely read, and I have read many good book and many deep books, but I have never, NEVER found anything that even comes close to matching the scriptures even in basic literary value. However, when one studies the history of the scripture, the culture from which it arises, the personalities who wrote it. It brings an entirely new life to the scriptures. I read Peter and his exhortations to find joy in suffering and am encouraged. However when I study history and learn that, at the time of writing, the Christian church was in the midst of one of the worst persecutions it knew in its early life, that Christians were killed, often on a daily basis; when I learn that the man who wrote this was martyred, reportedly requested to be crucified upside down because he was not worthy to die like Christ...now I read his writings, I read his words about suffering and I am no longer encouraged...I am awed. I know of no sufficient excuse for a Christian to avoid these studies, because they allow us to see the true worth of the book which we have been given. That is the theme of the following poem.

Forgetful minds and fainting hearts
Arrest the hope of joy
Drawing from themselves such resolved surety
That blessings are not for them

Added to this sorrowful lack
Of any such precious understanding
Which provides insight to these awesome truths
As are revealed in his true word

Such learning grants vivid life
To printed letters lain upon the page
That the mind becomes quickly lost
In the glory of their revelation

Drawn in, filled, fully and finally satisfied
By the mighty words of this sacred book
The mind stands renewed, the soul restored
Ready to step forward into new life