So Michael what did you learn in Hawaii? (plus some more)

(question from Papa)

Communication is very important. I don't like people getting close and that relationships, community, and family are tough work. Each is worth every second though. Community without Christ is a recipe for contention, drama, and fight or flight responses. Walking is good, not just for physical health, it gives time to talk with You and be at peace inside. Your love is kind always. Trust in You, Period. Desert seasons are tough, but the change is great. Ohana....... Aloha Spirit. The people in the Oregon area you put me around are part of my 'community'. Broken, youth, Your Bride changed to be Your bride is Your heart. Just because its scripture doesn't mean its You! Be content where ever; You are there!
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Fight of Da Loneliness
No more, the emptiness

Filled with light and acceptance

Still more, nightmares

Hopes and dreams abound

Floating through a void
a soul wanders lost
until the day comes
when the Guide leads them home

Living in love, cups running over

hopelessness pushes, walls move

Dancing with Mercy, the chair is prepared

death waits, waiting, waiting

Floating through a void
a soul wanders lost
until the day comes
when the Guide leads them home

Gems flow forth, rubies and diamonds

wounds driven deep, ever thirsty

wrath poured out down to the last

innocence prevails, reigning

candles burning brightly with the greyness of mystery. a mystery only revealed by One true and bright.

Poety from the Past

Thoughts and Servitude

There I was staring at the sky

laying in the damp grass wondering why

we are moving through this life

looking for what can be our wife

searching for what can fill that hole

that seems to do nothing but flow

from those things that we flee

turn, run, fly away like a bumble bee.

Thinking about the hurts and pains

that all know inside underneath the rains

of sorrow, joy, hate, and love

and then He comes in like a dove.

The clouds flow by in wonderous shapes

pulling my mind toward the capes

of my Lord and Saviour, my Prince of Peace

how Jesus is the light and life of my niece

and how I pray that she gets a chance to see

just how wonderful He can be.

To let the whole world know that

Jesus Christ is tattooed on my heart

that my soul is in His hands

and how my life makes me a life long

servant and bonded man

whose being is dead without my

Son of Man

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Kissed By My Rose

My Rose of Sharon embrace me

holds me close, comforts me, caresses me

takes me into His bosom, wipes my tears

strokes my hair, looks me in the eyes.

Kissed by my rose

I pour out my hurts on His shoulders

I pour out my pain on His feet

My tears fall into His hands

I put my ashes on His altar

and my sorrow at His house.

Kissed by my rose

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What's Left of Me?

Here lies a shattered pot, knocked to the

ground from an act of desperation;

A desperation that cam from confusion and hurt

A hurt that was born from a wounded child,

a situation this kid had no control,

control is what is sought, but never really finding

Little does this child realize is that for control

to be established, it must be given

Given over to One that is the conquer,

One that holds all the keys

This kid is just a lost prince,

not knowing he is an heir to the Kingdom,

able to receive it all,

kept from this knowledge by one that is

Jealous

So this kid stays in pieces,

looking to be remade, over again

This kid is tired of running around

in a wheel that goes no where.

So he gathers his pieces and

goes to the King of Mercy

to get a new

POT.....

Silence Treatment

Calling out, stand up, come up, My graceful present yet just silence and denial in reply Answer Me, talk to Me, I AM here still just the quietness of an empty room Talk, yell, scream, some sort of response, let Me know you still care now that hollowness of an empty open road at midnight settles in


It is quite amazing to note this, a taste of how Jesus might feel, when we don't talk to Him. How He longs to hear from us, waiting for that phone call, that spontaneous drop-in, the lunch in the park, something; we only respond with silence, or the famous 'maybe later'. How at times when people seek for conversation, to use a new/old buzzword, community, the ones that we want to be involved are the last ones that ever respond??? How upside down we are, how upside down this world is........ The ones we want to spend time with reject us, the ones that want to spend time with us we reject, but yet scripture states that God has given us a spirit of adoption into the kingdom of light. Yet in order to work things out all parties involved have no communication, refuse to talk for one reason or another; Lord how do we change this?? How gracious of a God we serve. To constantly forgive those that misrepresent His kingdom for just a simple thing as wanting to truly change.

Mirror of Reflection

I sat, looking in a mirror of glass, staring at my imperfections; Using the coals of my past to burn them away leaving only scars that remain in the mirror.

You were there watching

I sat, looking in a broken mirror on the desk, staring at the many reflections of my blemishes. The mirror that was broken by the stone of betrayal; Using the pieces of shattered dreams, to cut away the blemishes. This time not just the spots on the outside, but everything around them, for now in this broken mirror all was defiled; this time only the underlying blood remained.

You were there watching

I sat, looking in the mirror, broken pieces put together oh so slightly, some not quite matching up, but closer to the first;staring at the shattered image of my blemishes; wondering what happened, why me; then I cover the reflection with a black shroud, never to look again; Using anguish to cover my exposed life, hiding from You.No blemishes now, just brokenness.

You were there watching

I lay, staring at the walls around me, forgotten about the mirror only circling, spiraling, chasing the bottom of the drain; longing for an end. Cursing all, mostly the false world in the mirror and the reflection. Using, nothing, not moving, just weeping.

You were there watching and waiting

I sit, on the bed, in the grave shroud, looking at were the mirror lays, forgotten.A light is shining from underneath, pulsing, humming, calling. Using my eyes, staring, forgetting weakness, just staring.

You were there watching and waiting

I stand, on my own two feet, first time in eons; moving towards the now remembered mirror; my clothes, still there, life still exposed, waiting for that end to come; now curiosity. Using my hands, I raise them up to remove the covering on the long forgotten mirror

You were there watching and waiting

I remove the cover, to see a mirror of polished gold; standing there, looking inside the reflection for the very first time (truly), wondering in amazement, what lays before my eyes. Beauty, a thing I have never known; Love, a thing always twisted; Joy, a thing forgotten; Hope, a thing never found. I look even deeper, I see me, remade, no blemish, no scar, no exposed life, all I see is You in that mirror of my soul.

and You were watching






..............and weeping.

Treatsie on Companion

A man is walking down a hallway, pictures lining both sides of the walls. This hallway has been paced many times before, always alone, the pictures never change. Sorrow fills the hallway with sound as pain paints the floor like a carpet.

But You were always there

The pictures showing things of the past, things that once were, things that could have been, things that should have been, things that never will be. Do you believe? a voice echoes out of seemingly nowhere, but everywhere. The man continues to pace, not noticing.

But You were always there

The man has some new pictures on the walls now, but still nothing. His steps slow now as the man has not rested, ever. His feet drag over to the closet to grab a hammer, that he can barely move. Taking it to some of the pictures, he swings, nothing breaks. Over and over again for hours, trying to smash the pictures to no avail. Wearily he drops the hammer and slumps against the wall to the floor, sobbing.

But You were always there

Barely rising, the man walks again up and down the hall, dragging, crawling on his belly, like the worm he feels. Sometimes stopping to look at a picture, then continuing, still weeping. Barely able to move anymore the man pulls up and down the hallway on the carpet of anguish, surrounded by sorrow. Do you believe?

But You were always there

Noticing the question this time, the man tries to squeak an answer, but no moisture is left. He is less than a skeleton; moving onward, the man tries to talk, but nothing comes out. Now frustration sets in. With a new vigor, this ghoul of what was pulls through the hallway.

But You were there

Do you believe? The man tries to scream, Yes! But it is still not working. Finally he gives up, waiting for it to all come crashing down and to have it over. He breaks all his bones and grinds them to dust.DO YOU BELIEVE?! Now thunders through the hallway. The man, broken, just nods his head and cries, but no tears remain.

But You were there

Light floods the hallway, shaking, shattering all the pictures. The walls cave in, the roof falls down, and the floor splits apart. All the man can now see is light, then finally darkness.

But You were there

Asleep at the end of a hallway in which a door stands at one end, a baby lies at the other sleeping, peacefully.

but You were there,

beside me,

Always.

Darkness into Light

The ache in my heart, burning to the soul, melting the ice that surrounds the holes, of wounds, cuts, and scars that had been there a many year, gently drawing bitterness and self-loathing down into the shear, core of my being, trying to corrupt my mind, turning it sour and full of perversion, until I could find, the One Man that saves all through blood and love, cleaning those that are dirty, healing the cove of a soul in despair, travailing over things that should have been, leaving a fire in the place where of the bin, of the heart of one in love and burning, with passion for the One that is always turning
Darkness into Light

Tension of Loneliness

A man walks to his car from his house, feeling out of place in that house.
He gets into his car, driving down the road thinking that something else has to be wondering where he is going.
He pulls into a parking lot, gazing out his wondering; feeling alone and that not many understand.
Walking through the park, passing through the crowds of people, the many families, couples, and individuals, yet not being connected to any of them.
This man, cries out for them all from his inner most being, praying and hoping that they would know the One that fills that loneliness, the One that shows everlasting love, the One that is relentlessly pursuing us as we pursue vapor.
How do we find fellowship with the blind when we see, how do you relate the color red to someone that has never seen; how do we share love to people that don't know what it truly is and when confronted with it, RUN?

In a place where sorrow and joy meet, where peace and war, love and hate, order and chaos, balanced and unbalanced, devoted and lethargic, somewhere in there, this tension, do we find what is being sought after, that which completes who we are; only one answer remains, the answer that has been and will be rejected right up until the sky is split.