Poet’s frozen so stiff he 
Can’t even shiver.
He’d blink, but his life’s like 
The Yangtze river.

Wake, and stare, 
And stand in awe. 
Don’t be afraid to sleep.
Whatever corners 
You 
Drift right by
Give to God; 
Who can keep.

 

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Lost Ethic…

November 21, 2011

Tired eyes see differently
-Deeper
Weary hearts holding more?

Exhausted legs resting easily.
-Sleeper
Oceans calling for shores.

And this
Is the long-lost ethic
Rest
Is the abandoned art.
In six days,
You shall do
All your work,
The seventh:

Set apart.

Look out your window!
In the west,
the sky’s on fire
With gifts from God.

Beauty shared’s
the-more beautiful.
With a face full of smyle,
and a knowing nod

We praise the Giver,
for all His gifts…

The easy joys -the hard
-all’s His!

Sun’s gone to bed,
down basement stairs.
Now, tired eyes,
and sleepy prayers,

Dip tiny toes in foamy tide
nigh an ocean-full of dreams.
A breeze, and blowing,
From o’er the waves, it seams,

lifts thankful heart, gently sailing.
Heavy legs, an anchor to this world
-thankful to a love, above, within,
Who wrought it all, and twirled

it spinning. He wants men dizzy?
Oth’wise, He’d not’ve put them on this earthen top.
…my head spins, -Where is He?
and I’ve begged Him just to stop,

And -still-

it keeps on spinning

-revolving,

in its place.

Motionless,
He’s just a blur,
Moving,
we see His face.

Our movement,
As it were,
Is to trust Him,
In His grace.

While, by Him,
Duly mighted,
To run -joyful-
This race.

Talk Down the Moon…

October 28, 2010

The time for sleep,
Comes too soon
I try to talk
Down the moon…

But at the same time
Wish it would come up.
-If I could both, fill
And drain my cup…

And oh,
What magic,
Sleep.

October 27, 2010

Do you see it?

Do you see how the insides of this weary world are ruins?

How the outside may sparkle, and advertise its pseudo-splendor,
While the inside screams, “Save me!” from the depths of its hollow, rusted soul.

Remember…

How everything within you, wanted to run away from any window, any keyhole, any glimpse into that horror…

And, as the day ends, you cross home’s thresh-hold, drop all your burdens necessary for a day of hurried, harried travel, and sit…
still,
in that place that seems to be built of life inside.

You know that feeling?

Where you let your arms down, and there’s no where else you’d rather put them, than wherever they’ve landed?

Where your feet are resting, content to be still, on homecarpet, and your head is leaning, -play-acting as if it were never aywhere other- on some soft, familiar thing?

Where your eyes are closed but not latched, there simply exists no reason to open them…

Where you breathe
in
and
out
to the beat of the foundations of the world.
It’s that seventh-day feeling, where the Maker of all things saw that it was
very good, and rested?

Where the mind isn’t tasked with solving some pressing issue of flesh, or filled with important thoughts on how to react to some un-good in this spun-dizzy world.

Rather, in freedom, it wanders down regal paths of wonder…
Eagerly, but patiently, seeking out those things which it was God’s glory to conceal.

Where, there are near-voices, and bustlings of family, but, about their business, they don’t interrupt, for the bustlings on the fringe, find their source in the same Spirit that sings such soothing songs into your soul, and indeed, harmonize with the stillness.

Where, before you know it, that reality of dream (Where you are, at once, both a thousand thousand miles away, and also mere feet, from where family lives faith louldy in turn) crosses into a wordless, thoughtless sleep the flavor of peace -a bath for the soul, drawn of God’s comforting Spirit,

And you wake, whether shortly or not, with a vigor, to solve those pressing issues of flesh, or to fill your mind with important thoughts -truth- on how the World-Maker would have you -in the midst of all the world’s un-good-

React

To His ever-good.

Sleep… is a gift.
God is the giver of all things
Good…

I hurt…

September 13, 2010

I…

Hurt…

I haven’t hurt in a while…

Right now I hurt.

I have been hurting.

I do still hurt.

I hurt.

I…

Hurt.

But…

I am better than I deserve.

Today I saw a painting…

A friend of mine painted this painting.

It is of a sunset, and of TWO pesons fishing.

The TWO… is significant.

The other is of a lonely pearl.

There were TWO paintings… did I not tell you?

No. No, I guess I did not.

Anyway, while I lay here, hurting… I am also laying here,

looking… at these paintings…

Bravo, painter friend…

(What is it about art that makes me ask all the questions at

once? What is it that draws me in -curious- and spits me out

with answers of only maybe-flavored “certainlies.” ?)

Whatever it is, it has done it again…

My roommate’s bed’s been ruined this night, by my

ridiculously rebellious cats… three of them there are, and

 they cause enough trouble for themselves and four feline-

generations besides…

-I sigh-

with sympathy, and pity for my nowly floor-bedded

roommate…

the perpetrators have been exiled to the land of “third

story balcony”… with not but dry rice/chicken/corn bits,

and water… as they beg with claws, upon windowframes and

doorjams… my mind races through a thousand possible

trajectories that may ensure their silence…

several selections from this list are as follows…

I could:

Drop them, from the roughly 30 foot height, to their

nighdeaths… below…

or… place a certain, oddly-suited chair overtop of their

heads, in a sort of “in the stocks” fashion… rendering

their desire to disturb mine and my roommates slumber,

unsatiable due to an irreconcilable distance.

or… I could… place various objects as a buffer, (Which I

have done.) between them and the door upon which their

disturbance is wrought… thereby ensuring peace… and

quiet tranquility for all of us house-dwellers who made the

wise, proper, rational, freedom-preserving! choice NOT TO…

poop on the beds of the masters… of the house.

-I shake my head-

And after that wonderful adVERTisement… would anyone of

you there, be interested, or know of one -or several- who

may be interested… in providing a warm home for these

three, -presently- cold cats?

(I did -mind you- place an old pillow upon the balcony for

their comfort and warmth… and, seeing as it is essentially

still the weather of summer… the night is not unacceptably

chilly, as it is, withOUT any such MERCIFUL comfort as a

warm pillow.)

Lo! what is this I hear? Be it the scratch of a claw upon my

well-defended door?

If it be so, and I daresay ‘t’is… I may, as of yet, be

persuaded to employ one of my formerly mentioned courses of

action… or perhapsably an even more violent selection will

be made… from my thousands of possiblies…

grrrrhhh…

“Be content!” I am wont to yell -if only in my mind-

“content with your lot… your miserable, self-deserved lot!

and leave me be, in peace and quiet for a simple night’s

rest!”

Silence resumes, after having tossed the unruly prisoner

off…
of the pile of bufferage… (You… thought I was going to

say balcony… tisk.tisk. nay. nay… not yet, at least.)

I have not well-slept in several days. Strange dreams have

visited my slumber… overstaying their welcome, by hours

and hours, infact,  keeping my mind from its bed.

Courteously, has my mind stayed, with the door to

“conscious” open, if but a crack, to hear them out, in their

wild spinning of bizzare yarns on the doorstep.

I must post a sign, or send them a letter IN the post,

requesting that they visit at a more convenient hour, and by

no means staying as late as they have become comfortable.

How inconsiderate. and yet, dreams have never been known to

be the most sensible, at any rate.

I feel that it is coming upon time to shut the doors to

conscious… and I’ve taken extra precaution in seeking out

windows that might pose any like-mannered concerns… but my

door creaks as it swings on its hinges, and that creak has

been known to give alarm to the dreams that so often seem to

find their way at the last of moments prior to the

closing…

Perhaps, this night I shall instruct my mind to dispense

with its courtesy and simply shut.the.door. ? but then… my

mind hasn’t proven to be the most obedient of servants in

the past… still… it is… worth a try.

I will bid you all a very gratuitous farewell…

your reading of these thoughts have honoured my existence,

perhaps more than you know.

Goodnight…

-MAC <>< = )

P.S.

That…. cat… -Again, I sigh-

The mercenary, Violence, whispers in my ear. He says, “I can

get the job done… I’m just the thing…”

And oh, how right he seems…

(My friend did say she would be willing to automobil-ly

dispense of these feline pests… but we will refrain, for the time being,

in order to confirm whether or not such drastic measures

need actually be taken.)

Again, I say to you, thankyer… and… g’night!

Keep Smyling/Praying/Trusting God…

Ahh, to be a cat, ‘eh?

February 26, 2010

So I lay here, typing…

laptop laying ontop of a lazy, sleeping cat.

He barely stirs.

Train is singing “Hey Soul Sister” softly through my earphones.

My arms are cold… they’re outside the covers.

I can’t believe this cat.  The computer’s ONTOP of him, and he just lays there, head all turned sideways, sleeeeeping away.

I’ve got a lot to do tomorrow.

When you wake up to a dream and life feels like you’re falling… and for a little bit, you’re not sure if you’re on a roller coaster, where the track will lead you back up another slope, or if you’re just free-falling, or if you’ve got some unknown parachute, or if you’re just making the whole thing up. 

that’s it at the moment.

Inside… not out… outside everything’s chill… no noteable bumps… just rambling on a’livin…

this happens, that happens… mostly to other people… very little happens to me.

I guess I’m partly to blame for that… More often than not, I don’t let things happen to me, if I can help it.

my eyes are tired… This is another Australia night…

I wish I had friends in Australia…

I wish I were in Australia…

Not that I don’t like it here (Which isn’t always the case.) but tonight, I’m just wishing for a new kind of chill…

I realized tonight, that when I don’t watch movies, hear radio shows, or hang out with people who have accents… It gets really hard to imitate them.  I tried tonight, and failed pretty badly.

Do you have those friends that you feel like you should talk to but, for some reason, it seems like they’ve placed you out of their league?  like, not necessarily above or below, just in an “other” category, that would make any conversation just strange?

There’s an advertisement for that new Alice in Wonderland movie on the side of my browser for my facebook page, so I’ve got a very strangely make-up-ed face of Johnny Depp staring at me from beneath a mad hatter’s hat.

Sometimes I get dizzy.  Thinking about things… I chase thoughts around in circles, trying to convince them to sit still… like a baby-sitter. lol

Have you ever gotten the urge to live in a place where there’s zero gravity?  Like just let that thing float there, let this thing tumble away through the air, don’t worry about pillows when you sleep… set the book out there a ways and just read the page, until you need to turn it.

I told my friend today that I’m “A weird kind of lonely.” and it’s true.

Well, I’ve lived enough nights to know that they all, eventually, turn into mornings… sometimes I watch the transitition… but tonight should not be one such night…

Peace, love, and barbecue sauce…

-MAC <>< = )

P.S.

Keep Smyling…

P.P.S.

My cat poked his head around my laptop and caught a glimpse of my mouse darting back and forth across the screen…. his head following in nigh-perfect unison, amuses me.  And now he flops back, limbs limp, mind content… ahh, to be a cat, ‘eh?

Goodnight, ya’ll!