Every thought that goes through my head
I tear right out of its bed.
If it doesn’t stand with the Word of Life,
Then it sees nothing but my knife.
When feelings stand and shout their lies
There is a part of me I know that dies.
‘Til I tell them “you I see”
And “this is what I know to be.”
Because there is a truth that’s real
You can’t listen to what you feel.
Just fight to get on through
And cling to what you know is true.
I drive this road along a canyon
The miles tick away
Lost in a world so vast
It can be crossed in a day
Across the gap my goal I can see
Where I’ll be today
Forced on a path around
Through all the sights on the way
My eyes they see a prize worth taking
A place I long to stay
But I feel I’ll not be
Along this endless highway
When at last I lay it down
This sword will be bloody
For now it has no sheath
Except in my foe’s body.
When at last my Lord removes them
My breastplate, my greaves will be dented
My gauntlets, my helm will be worn
But my soul is forever restored.
When at last this war is won
I’ll join the victors at the gates
But I am not there yet
So I’m jumping the grave
I’m gonna run one more day.
When at last I am brought home
My King will give me rest
And say to me
“You’ve done well”
With a lifeline I cling to
I stare out in longing
At the ever amazing ocean,
But cannot let go to swim
Out there all on my own.
Hold me up, keep me safe.
Hold me back, keep me still.
Why is this safety net
Made of razor wire?
Can I swim on my own
If I just let go?
Or will I drown,
My mind shut down?
There’s a joy when I know,
A bounce none can deny.
I can be all I see
Knowing what is behind me.
But then I’m hit with a lie
I tend to believe.
What I know feels wrong
And I question the song.
But through my tears
I see you kneel.
You take my palms
And quell my qualms.
With your truth comes a dawn.
Though I’m never without woe
I can stand and continue on.
Because I know,
Though my life may be gone,
Resurrection is Your show.
A knight in shining armor
Is wanted by none.
What use is a warrior
Who hasn’t walked in the mud?
Pain is a magic
All and awe inspiring
Until you start inquiring
And realize the world is not tiring
That the pain is not umpiring
Doubt is a lens
That makes an anthill a mountain in your eyes.
But if you step through the disguise
You see your heel can squash its size
Fear is but a messenger
It warns you of the bourn
You were made to leave and never mourn
When you are thrown to the wolves
Do like the ancient ones have done
And make them hunt for your prey’s blood
And as a look behind the curtain, here’s the first draft of this poem:
Pain is magic
All and awe inspiring
Until you catch the wielder in his tricks
And you realize you’ve been fooled
That the rest of the world moves on
And the pain is but a sideshow.
Fear is but a messenger
Warning you of the limits
You were born to push.
Doubt is a lens
That makes an anthill a mountain in your eyes.
But if you take the step
You will find you can put it beneath your heel.
When they throw you to the wolves
Be like the ancients
And make them hunt for you.
A knight in shining armor
Is wanted by none.
What use is a warrior
Who hasn’t walked in the mud?
From every arrow which you are shot
Take the head and add it to your scales
Til you have the armor to take the world
All my life I’ve been staring at this wall
And reading the writing, a story for the ages
Full of heartache and loss
With a villainous hero
Who plays the mentor and the fool.
I’ve read about a battle for change
With victory a concept
True only in lies
That left him broken and falling,
Devastated by the loss
Of who might have been.
And no story is true
Without a love that no one wants
And a demon that no one hates.
And where’s the fun
If the hero has friends
When he needs them most?
These words etched into stone
Tell of a possession
That started as a deal
And ended without a soul.
And of a prison that none can see
But through the words of a book in green.
There is a character who is not a monster
And another who doesn’t know her.
One who speaks but they don’t hear
And one that has his books and wisdom.
There is one who is trapped in a jar
And who wants a tattoo on his sleeve.
At the end is an ellipsis
That moves farther down with each passing day.
The longer I stay
The more this fiction is written on this wall.
A war between copper and tin
Shredding a statue of bronze
And leaving it wonderin’
If it is the sum or if it is the parts
Or if it is a being of a different skin.
It is frozen in place,
In the corner of a garden,
Its eyes fixed on a sacred base
And the angel of gold stood on its face
With every hand placed on her skin
The molecules of his within
Break apart, not how they’ve been,
Until he fears that he will melt
To a puddle, when it’s felt
Will leave a burning and a welt
On all who notice where he dwelt.
He pleads the sculptor of his life
To keep his shape set through his strife
And turn him from his golden queen
Or lift her eyes to be his wife
This poem I wrote as a stream of consciousness, then went back and started editing, as I do many poems. But as I was doing this I felt like I was taking some of the soul out of it. I felt like this one just needed to be raw, so I am going to include both the abridged, somewhat edited version and the original stream of consciousness in this post.
Abridged version:
Another life we ended today
Its light washed away
By this war of “we” and “they.”
A nameless casualty
For rights and wrongs.
Another life you took today
With every word you say
Against your neighbor in this way.
Not one syllable will he hear
As every letter wears your soul.
Another life we gave to hate
Telling our neighbor to fear his mate.
Another life we took today
Not of the stray
We love far less
But of ourselves so filled with hate
We forget the word we stand for
Has four letters of its own:
Look out for those who cannot see
Obey the word of your father
Value no thing above your brother
Endeavor for a world of peace
An order we were given
By the commander of life
But it only is applied
Where it is needed least.
Our orders are simple:
To be patient, to be kind,
To be as our greatest calling.
To have faith, to have hope,
To have the greatest of them all.
Another life we have taken today
With hate as our speech
Each and every day.
Original:
Another life we ended today
Its light snuffed out
By this war of righteousness
A nameless casualty
For rights and wrongs.
Another life we gave to hate
Telling our neighbor to fear his friend.
An order we were given
By the commander of life
But we only apply it
Where it is needed least.
We beg others to stop feeding the fire
While we carry logs of our own.
Each of us driven by a desire
To do what is right
We fall to the lies told of those
The wicked labels our enemy.
Blind by the story told by those
Who lead us astray
We ignore the guidance of the light
Leading to the joy we we claim to preach.
Another life we took today
Not of our neighbor
We love far less
But of ourselves so filled with hate
We forget the word we stand for
Has four letters of its own:
Look out for those who cannot see
Obey the word of your father
Value no thing above your brother
Endeavor for a world of peace
Another life you took today
With every word you say
Against your neighbor in this life.
Not one syllable will he hear
As each and every letter tears down your soul.
When I bow my head tonight
For our broken minds I pray.
When hate becomes our language
The enemy takes his lap.
Every word brings with it a tear
So no longer do I hear
The truth we claim to believe.
Our orders are simple:
To be patient, to be kind,
To be as our greatest calling.
To have faith, to have hope,
To have the greatest of them all.
Another life we have taken today
And every day we let hate be our speech.
This is the second of the two poems I’ve written recently. Be sure to read the first here
The Monster That Controls Me
I am not the monster that controls me.
I am the defeated the world has not seen.
He whispers to me that I am steady
While ripping me apart before I’m ready.
He tells me I don’t need a team,
But doing this alone feels like a dream.
The smile on my face is a beast of its own,
I cannot control it, it sits on a throne.
Everything I say comes with the wrong tone,
What should be a shout instead is a groan.
I am the knight in shining armor
Who waits for his damsel, who doesn’t know her,
To save him from his dragons, who treat him unsure
And put him on down like a mad cur.
When will someone see
That a monster controls me?
There is a door, but I am without key.
When will someone come and let me be free?