She was a beautiful broken mess

Of stress, and loneliness. I must confess,

I marveled in the beauty of each broken piece,

And how tears would not come to bring release

To dried out eyes and even drier bones.

With no words words to say her spirits groans.

Such a beautifully, 

Broken, 

Mess.

He was a study in angles, quiet, and pain

looking for answers were none remain.

With quiet indifference he hides his eyes

In fear they will see, he doubts his life.

Is he living, or striving, loving or lusting

A heart like metal with holes that are rusting

A study in angles,

Quiet,

Pain

Paths are seldom straight.

Lives are not easily lived.

Love is never cheap.

Hope is beauty for the living.

They create a mosaic work of music and art

that others see and hear, because they stand apart.

If they could only see the beauty inside the pain

and find joy in not knowing what in future lays.

To find, their struggles are colors forming the patterns,

And patterns, the patterns, creating the anthem.

A mosaic work,

Music and art,

Lives create

Dedicated to all those who ran screaming in the night, reclaiming a stolen soccer field.

A plane ride.
Very little sleep.
Orange. Blue. Green.
A very strong Chicken.
A couple belly busters.
A couple of trips to the bathroom, and a couple trips more.
God with no nationality.
Love that has no borders.
Screaming at distractions held in large black plastic.
A mad dash on newly sacred ground.
Trading a knife’s control for the Love on a cross
Prison cells shaken
A 180 return back to their destiny.
Toma tommalo
Worship in many languages
Offering heaven with our smiles
Jesus with our touch
A stage set for greatness
Sins sticky chair
Temptation’s black mask
Feeding Jesus at the Bordo
A since of loss for that poor giant beach ball.
A mad dance
A turn table and a microphone
Joy, in collective song.
Green crowned king.
Winning in Las Vegas
Hope for tomorrow
God’s earthshaking well done.
A plane ride home, never to be the same.

All asleep on the road except for me and the sun. She and I were racing for ground, and I was steadily losing to the day. The world was in that lonely time between night and the new days dawn.
100 Portraits were jamming rhythmic worship of unashamed love and the need to dance from my car speakers. I was happily singing along and enjoying the perfect shade of “early morning blue”, when the Deep entered my car.
The Deep, the fathomless depths of God, came pouring in. The depths of my being reacted with such fury, to be one again with its creator that the pain of its longing brought tears to my eyes. Longing, the depths of man and God. God in need of nothing, longing to be with man. Man in need of everything, unknowingly looking for God.
I sang! I wept! I loved and was Loved!

“You are so much sunshine to the square inch.”

Walt Whitman

There are words on the tip of my tongue
That long to be said, long to be told, longed to be expressed
I just don’t know how to say them.

There is a notion that sits at the back of my mind
That keeps me awake, keeps me dreaming, keeps me creative
Though I try, I can’t understand it.

There is a song that is sung in the Deep
That teaches me sorrow, teaches me joy, teaches me life
I can now sing a few phrases.

There’s a thought that something isn’t right
With the world, with our selfish love, with our sight
But do I have the tools to fix it?

There is an idea of a different world
I see it on the horizon, in laughter, and in love
I long for this idea.

There are moments when everything feels right
You can hear it in the laughter, see it in smiles, feel it in the air
Why are the moments so few and far between?

There are places that feel home
It’s in the smell, or in the feel, or maybe just the lighting
Home is forever You, that’s the one and only thing I truly know.

There is a forgiveness that I cannot fathom
It offers everything, shuns nothing, begs your acceptance
And this is the way of the fathomless Deep.

There is a love that fills the spaces
The cracks, the nooks, the hidden child
Nothing is ever quite the same.

Words never seem to give justice
A notion only a hint
Songs are meant for the dancing
Thoughts are to help us think
Ideas are for inventors
Moments to teach us time
Places are the fixed points
Forgiveness, oxygen for the drowning
Love is all

Another question,

Answered for the 50^th time

I can’t stand those who ask questions before the explanation is finished.

Who knows you may hear the answer.

Another smell,

I’m reminded of something lost

But for the life of me I can’t remember what it is

There it is. No it’s gone again.

Another turn,

Clockwise goes the doorknob

Same closet, same clothes. Why can’t I step out into Narnia?

My heart longs for adventure!

Another stormy sky

Thunderstorms are my glory

They teach me rage, and the fear of God

Fear is not always a bad thing.

Another mistake

It would seem I’m a collector

I like my mistakes smooth and rich, with just a hint of the bitter

The longer they age the better

Another rule

My first thought is how to break it

My second is breaking it and hating myself for it

And third staring sleeplessly at the ceiling at 3 a.m.

Another test

I hope they use a curve

The top of that bell is the place to be, not bad or good enough to be despised

To far left or right will get you beat up.

Another dollar

To help sedate anxious thoughts

My money buys me security, great big walls with barbed wire on the top.

A personal Jericho with harlot spies.

Another page

Ink scratches screaming their meaning

Another world is built and torn down with the turning of a page

Imaginations breathing life to words

I’ll have another.

” They eat the dark, those that stop to breathe“   

                                               Something Wicked This Way Comes      

                                                                                                            Ray Bradbury

I love the imagery of this line. It took a couple of reads for me to figure out what the author was trying to convey, but once I understood, it became a sort of mantra of mine that I frequently quote to myself. 

The author was using the musings of an older father figure morning the loss of his youth to explain the concept of what it means to really “live”. The father sat at the bar drinking his ” one and only drink” and thinking about his son Will and Will’s best friend Jim. They were of the age when you didn’t walk anywhere, you ran. You ran simply for the sake of running.

He then states ” they eat the dark, those who stop to breathe.” In my opinion he was saying if you stop running, even to take a breath, you get nothing in return for it, you “eat the dark. “

I don’t think he meant that you never take time to stop and admire the beauty of the world around you. But rather that if you have something before you, don’t half-ass it (pardon my word usage), don’t skip or stroll, but go to it like you were Hermes and you had wings upon your feet. Don’t settle for stopping and gulping huge lung fulls of night air, eating the dark, but push yourself to greater heights.

The older man sitts their and mourns, longing for days when he used to run like Will and Jim. He wants nothing more than to burst out of that bar and join their wild pursuit. He wants to make the pack, like some lone wolf pineing for the other wolves attention, and admiration. He wants to see the wild places again, hear their secrets.  He wants mothers to cover the eyes of their children as they look upon him, because they’re afraid. Afraid their children will see the life pouring from his veins, and want to run themselves. (Mothers don’t want their babies to leave to soon, it’s always been like that, and always will be.)

I think their is something like this in all of us, that desire to run. To be known by those that run beside us, and for us to know them. To search out those wild places and leave our mark, sometimes for better and other times the worse.

Their’s apart of us that wants to be seen as dangerous, and adventurous.  The question I have is what stops us from running. Why do we give up that childish nature of thinking that something new and exciting is just around the corner, and if we don’t run it will be gone before we get there. Intead we take on a leisurly pace, if we go at all, and could care less if we miss an opportunity or not.

Will’s father goes on to say that it’s not him that needs the “drink” but something deep inside of him. The part of him that longs to run again. Why do we push down that impulse to be bold and brave again? Why do we settle for “eating the dark”? Where along the way do we lose that which makes us feel alive?

I say its time we reclaim the wild places of our heart, and take that passion to all areas of our life. Lets not drown it down with drink, or excuses, or promises of taking up the chase tomorrow. Lets run for the simple act of running, and the joy it adds in and of itself. It’s time to quit our feast of nothing. It’s time to run!

With lungs on fire, and eyes burning let us run.

Just a heads up. The next couple of entries I will be writing about, all come from the book “Something Wicked this Way Comes”. Each entry will come from a chapter, or a line of the book, that made me stop,  think, and wonder the possiblities. This book makes me want to run. 

I’ve decided to do this on all the books that inspire me. It will be a log of sorts that helps  me to remember what I love about the written word. I also hope it inspires some of you guys to pick up some of these books, from your local libraries, and crack their spines until they spill to you their hidden secrets.

You can take a test to determine your Personality type at the following site:

http://www.humanmetrics.com/cgi-win/JTypes1.htm

After you take the test it will give you a set of 4 letters, and your personality type. You can then type those letters in a Google search for more information about yourself.

My personal Personality type was dead on. It was if someone had been secretly observing me for many years and then wrote a general description. Some of the sites will give you famous people who share your same personality. My favorites, for my on personality, were Steven Speilberg, and Mark Twain.

After you take your test, write back, and tell me how close you think the Personality Test nailed you. Remember be truthful when answering the questions, and your first responce is generally the way you really feel.

My letters where ENFP, and they have been for every Personality Test I have taken, so its pretty accurate.

I’ll write another post latter about the benefits of knowing your personality. It really has helped me alot.