Timeless Psalms

"My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from saving me, so far from the words of my groaning? O my God, I cry out by day, but you do not answer, by night, and am not silent. Yet you are enthroned as the Holy One; you are the praise of Israel. In you our fathers put their trust; they trusted and you delivered them. They cried to you and were saved; in you they trusted and were not disappointed."

Psalm 22:1-5


When I read the Psalms, I am amazed how little the heart for God has changed over past hundreds of years. The humble psalmists cry for mercy, for the face of God. How different is that from any soul today, lost or found? Searching for direction, a listener, redemption, conversation, love. It calls out to me like nothing else I read. Knowing that others have been in my place...

I guess I always knew that. I am not so ignorant as to believe I am a pioneer in these shadows. But no matter how independent any thought, companionship, particularly similarly motivated companionship, has the power to heal pain. Through Christ and how He's inspired followers through the years, He is healing my pain.

He answers prayers. When I was in the greatest danger, under the heaviest doubt, He answered. And I held on because I knew He would. I knew He would lift the shadow.

Hiatus

The thing about a hiatus, or the purpose, is to rejuvenate you. Give you some time to chill, so that upon your return, the burning-out process can start fresh. At least that was my point of view until today. Spring break ends tomorrow, and the only thing this week has done for me is sort out my priorities and put school on the bottom. Don't get me wrong. My education is my window to the world and all that stuff. I'm all for it. I like to learn and see my friends. I also like doing my own research on topics I've been wondering about, reading my own books, and writing my own papers. But alas, that does not create a GPA. Maybe they can deliver the SATs to me on a silver platter. I've got three hours, and I've done it before. I liked it.

Haha. WEIRDO. Yeah, yeah. So here's the thing. I've got two months left, and I plan to do my best. That gets me to summer safely. Which gets me to next year safely...*cue buzzkill. Ah, the concept of time. That's a separate post altogether.

Good Friday

Later, knowing that all was now completed, and so that the Scripture would be fulfilled, Jesus said, "I am thirsty." A jar of wine vinegar was there, so they soaked a sponge in it, put the sponge on a stalk of the hyssop plant, and lifted it to Jesus' lips. When he had received the drink, Jesus said, "It is finished." With that, he bowed his head and gave up his spirit.

(John 19:28-30)

Leave My Heart

topsy turvy
lazy susan
leave my heart as you found it

put back the notions
turn back the time
open the blinds

waiting for you
my lonesome mistake
never to let you love me

grape vines creeping
dead phones beeping
incoherent lyrics live

my dreams i've told
take them and run
safely away to the sea

Lennon

dear writer
symbol to mankind

i wish to have known
you and your truth

what there was of it
anyways

In My Words

in my words i am beautiful
i have no mirror, only a moleskine
in my words i am open
they have one meaning, no disguise

in my words i am protected
safe in the alphabet.
in my words i am ready to fight
not to the death, mind you

in my words i am misunderstood
it's okay. what they mean to me is clear
in my words i am overlooked
"finally, she has a hobby"

--i don't blame them
last week i was an FBI agent
the week before an eye doctor
now a writer? okay, lucy. very cool.

in due time
my words will take me where i need to go
my words...my world? here's hoping
but that was never up to me.

Illusion

i created an illusion
a perfect world
centered around you
but you disappeared
and the castle fell

the wreckage left me
trapped underneath
my heart grew cold
my tears froze over
my jaw set stone

my patience is gone
for too long i was buried
alone and waiting
my breath thin
my life empty

pull myself out
float to the top
survey the damage
stop searching
forget you

my best things

a blank notebook
a new box of crayons
the one with the sharpener
my iPod - my soundtrack
the goatskin djembe: own the groove
the secondhand Ibanez bass
my family
my friends
my roller-ball pens
..accidental rhymes
Beatles jigsaw
typewriter
good coffee
even better chocolate
my health
my wit
laughter
a healthy appreciation for bad jokes
a healthy obsession with classic cars
a smile, when you care to share it
love
life

..I found it

Thank you, Kurt Cobain

I'll Be You, If You'll Be Me

Why would I do this to myself. Compare and change. Who would I ever be? That artist I admire? That could be cool. But they're already them. Duh. And I am me. Groundbreaking information I'm feeding you, no doubt about it.

*sigh* All I know is all I know. I think someone famous said that once, and if I could put my finger on it, I would thank them. For their wisdom, and the permission to use my own.

Soggy Wishes

The most satisfying spring breaks are spent at home...if you like nothing more than a good errand. What's wrong with you?

Just kidding. Today was a bank run. My dad would have liked to take the little red convertible. A bit too chilly, I say. How about a motorcycle? How logical is that. But whatever. The bank is one of my favorite rides. And besides, the helmet keeps my face warm.

Our bank has a big beautiful fountain, crooked today because of the wind. Out of my mother's black denim jacket pocket I pull two pennies, thankful they didn't find the hole in the corner. Wanna make a wish, Dad? My favorite part about these wishes, is seeing the ones made before me..each represented by a one-cent piece. Today however, a thick layer of soil covers the depths of the fountain, concealing past hopes - both shiny and dull. My father flips the penny as far as he can. I'm not sure what he wished, or if he even did. Obviously the flight of the penny was more important. Where will you put yours? he asks. I think for a bit and toss it a few feet in front of me. He never asks what I wish for. He knows I wouldn't say.

This picture, of this girl, what do you think of? Looks like me, huh? Hah. No. It doesn't look like me at all. Yet when I see her, I imagine who I could be. I love her hair. If I wasn't blonde, I would try it today. I still might. Her Converse are broken in, and her bicycle is worthy of a second look. It'd better be, right? It's an ad for the thing. Don't forget the helmet. Safety first.

She looks strong, like she's been through a lot. I want to hear those stories. Why isn't she reading the magazine? Who distracted her? She doesn't look pleased... Apathetic, perturbed, even. But that's okay. She's earned it. I don't know how, and neither does she. She just showed up at the photo shoot, never expecting that I would flip through the latest issue of Ready Made and wish I was her.

What Do You Want?

"what do you want"
an inquiry commonly posed by
involved, overwhelmed persons
looking to find out as quickly as possible
AQAP
if only to offer it and be done with me
well since you're asking...
i want a new wardrobe for starters
old jeans. vintage rocker tees. my chucks.
i want too many pairs of chucks to possibly wear
i want the confidence to chop off my hair
i want a bright red Schwinn
i want a quaint apartment
with a laundry chute
i want it to look like an IKEA display
i want to be a journalist
i want to write about music
i want to listen to music professionally
i want to find my new favorite song
i want to be in a rock band
of course
the bassist
i always loved that bassist
i want to be a poet
and know it
i want to read enough poetry
to have a favorite
i want to be a favorite
i want to meet an admirer
i want to tell myself i'm worth admiring
and believe it
i want to read all the classics
and understand why it was labeled a classic..
i want to watch every 5 star movie
4 stars is okay too
i want to marry John Cusack
i want to marry?
yes. i suppose.
my self-sufficient mentality can only last so long
and that's okay
i do want love
i love to collage
i want to collect handmade wonders
i want to place my thoughts inside them
on their beautiful papers
i want another piece of college-ruled paper
music to my eyes
i want so much
and most of all
i want to be really really good
at being who i want to be

Feed the Shredder

running light fingertips
across a blank canvas
i know no boundaries
no sketches to trap
the scar of a dull crayon

the wordflow isn't as smooth
blanks as easy to fill
a fleeting moment
the only friend
of undercover motions

pencils dipped in paint
damsels drowned in ink
deadening lost hopes
of a drugged prince
on his noble, crippled steed

gunfire snaps, enemy falls
affiliates applause
bulletproof jawline
adorning award winning
heirs to the safety

intrinsic beings
search for companions
fruitlessly calling
phone's off the hook
breathing through a dead jack

house of cards
ace of spades on leave
corporate meeting
with a little lamb
fleece as black as blood

spurting phrases
i sort these thoughts
feed the shredder
the crooked story ending
locking all closed doors