Monday

#1

I wish that I was a poet.
Who wrote words in song, so swift
and sweet
That when ears heard the tears from their weak eyes
fell, down deep
singing:
Oh Beauty,

You truely know me.

More than sound can tell
Reason's fight and will's wishing well
Light finds me
Beckoning:
the water where my spirit dwells
Soaring.
Flying.
Out from Drowning's pull...
taking me high again (or once for the first time...)

I

Touch the surfaces of
Contemplation
With Truth as my Companion

I seek.

I find.

Oh meek and awesome Jesus,
Won't you please make me a poet?
Purslane, the ode to be WITHSANDING through
all circumstance. MAKE ME

the offstep beat of shoes on city pavement
that dance to a drum circle's statement:

"WE ARE HERE TO MAKE MUSIC"

they do. we are.

whether the crowd insists or declines our
UNaplogetic cry out in
joy.
in freedom.

one. two.

tall/dark/crooked/Grin.

STOP!

oh Goodness in essense, you see SO clearly
with eyes MINE could never close.

oh Saving Grace and HOPE
make me! make me
your own
your own
your own.

And I see you move.
you GET me with my clapping hands, head high smile BASS SOLO.
and you go.
right out from my soul to the Goosebumps that follow
REVELATION
And like vines on an old brick house, you flow in and out.
In and out.
TOUCH SOME ONE ELSE
with my open flesh and bones,
won't you?

Make me grow.
Make me grow.

into your own.


#2:

I find myself lost
again.
Having big conversations as
Small talk, which is
not understood by recieving parties...
though they think they know where i'm "at" they don't.
Because I stand [stopped] in my mind's reason
in trying to remember what i've forgotten
and once had gathered for certain
deep in my
conscience.

In my
Experience
In my
Churning, stir-sleep thought process.
Exclusive, reclused, pensive
seen by few and seldom EXposed...
Open, I am.
But unable to reproduce the words as
Sounds and syllables- concepts both metaphor and literal
[spiritual and physical]
I'm seemingly in capable of something I've always been good at:

the art and science of...
commu...nication. trans...lation
of one heart's questions and answers to another soul.

and I just want to be
at home.

But it won't be a place I'll go
Cause if its anywhere its with someone I've not yet known.
Or up
up and away
Inside Eden's secrets.
Which are found ONLY in losing what I've gained.
Heard only in the silence, in the quiet as I've prayed.
But at least my thought and feeling
dreams and far fetched keeping
of what I NAME "BEAUTY"
is begot,
had,
and understood in full

by He who calls me
His.



#3


I am Alexander Supertramp.
I'm Jack; Sparrow and Keroac.
I am Etta James and Joplin
Ella, Parks and Plath.
I am white,
I mean caucasian.
I am culture
I am black-
and blue, as bruises, you see,
but healing
hope filled
and free from outward expectation
I am green leaves growing,
A brave and bold color blooming
on the petals of garden PANSIES
which have been
planted by two hands my mother wears
under her
gloves, which, I have not seen Much of
yet this season,
because
She's been busy...
I am St. Paul brick and mountain snow;
Orange, red and yellow trees that line the East Coast.
I am used and vintage leather boots
custom taylored skirts and tunes
my own mind make the melody for.
I don't rhyme all that good
and my writings mostly mean the world to me
and my God alone...

So I am solitude.
solitare and confined to myself
But IN love with all who I find myself
aware
of existing SO far.

Yeah I am spray paint on city tunnels and church begotten stained glass windows
I am off key, on beat
dirty and Blatent in my
naked. ness.

Lord, grant me...

peace.

beyond my understanding.

because no words hold an answer to the questions I am asking.

Lord, grant serenity.

in the midst of all my

shortcomings.

Grant me wisdom in my flawed attemt to grasp reality outside this world's scientific explanation for science
and space
and gravity...

Grant me faith to beat the odds and fly

and if not, the trust to try.

For I am damned if I cannot die to my own self, stuck stranded in a panic of my soul's hell.

Break me and teach me, for this world has beat, mocked and forsaken me.
Meanwhile, I've been fake, hollow and dangerously open to shallow scemes - twisted up and topsy turvey'ed in dreams that cannot practice what they preach.

because empty words have empty meanings.

and empty hearts
are
full
of yearning.

Oh God, grant me widespread arms, and open hands-
a mouth that sings and legs that stand

upon the rock of its salvation.

the only hope I have -

my one and holy reconciliation.

God grant the strength to fight the demons, in my mind. They seek to ruin my ambitions, dry the grass and gray my sky. but Lord of hosts, You were, are and will be through and through. So by Your blood stained victory, may I boast in YOU?

They say I am nothing.
but a sinning, gutless whore.
worthess and deceiving to all who think I'm more.
They say I'm nothing.
but a failed attempt at life.
ugly, broke and desperate
to be someone I could like...
or
some girl that boys...might.

Oh Lord, grant me strength to fight

for I am beloved of a King who won my heart.

Take it, now, tomorrow, and all of the days to come.
Take me pretty, take me ugly. Take me empty, take me full, but take me wholly yours so I can truely
learn
to
love.


Lord, grant me peace.

half empty? half full? or filled to overflowing...

I love...

listening to a CD I haven't heard in months/years without one song skipping
reading jack kerouac
knee high socks
watching teenagers interact with each other and feeling oddly distant from it - it was not so long ago...
cooking dinner with Sinatra
black nail polish
running out of a rec hall full of people I only 1/2 know to throw off my jacket, kick off my shoes and dance in the rain by myself
catchy pop punk guitar riffs, drum rolls, choruses, and bass lines
wearing my hair down when its huge and messy; pulling it back whenever I see my boyfriend just because he likes it
my clothes that have character (paint stains, holes, etc)
being able to pull off short dresses because I'm short
augustine of hippo
driving for hours with redbull, gas station cappuccinos, clove cigarettes and good company
minneapolis hip hop
being hit with the holy ghost
walking downtown cities i've never been before
going to restaurants by myself
libraries
my friends - they are the best any one could ever ask for
my book shelves stacked with philosophy, art, history, and my journals dating back to '94
the crunch of leaves underneath my feet
the feeling you get when you are coming in from the cold and you have a room full of people you love to make you warm
board games
fellowship
learning about life
the moments when I realize I have been wrong, confessed, and been forgiven
singing
learning how to swing dance on rooftops in the country in wisconsin
greyhounds that take you from Bangor, Maine to Boston, MA to New York City
converse all stars (thrift, though)
Substance church
black button up dress shirts from express
my bible
tooth and nail/solid state bands
music venues
community
talking on the phone for hours and hours with your best friend from a pay phone in canada
being asked to sing at your roomate from college's wedding - and seeing her!
jeeps and volvos - though most people hate one or the other
the view from Leeks Marina of the teton mountains, and jackson lake
watching buffalo roll around in the dirt
signs that are rediculous "no standing" "no honking" etc
bible commentaries

...i actually have to go now.

that was refreshing.

Starbucks ruined my life.

I always have to find the perfect place to sit, in restaurants and coffee shops. Enough in my "own world" where I can just think, and feel, and be in my own head for a while, and also have a good view of every one in ear shot. Right now I'm sitting in the corner of a Caribou Coffee in Prior Lake. On the internet, obviously.

Initially, I set up my day to be had in a Starbucks. From the beginning, I knew that I was settling, but I'm in the heart of suburbia, which means I'm gonna feel sick no matter where I sit down. Anyway, the service sucked, my chai tasted like watered down milk someone threw 1/2 an already steeped tea bag in, my banana nut bread was dry and hard, and when I wanted to use the internet, after I had spent a good $6.00 on not-the-best-product-I've-ever-had I asked them what the password was, and they said "you can purchase a 'STARBUCKS CARD' for a minimum of $5.00 for 2 hours of internet" okay, people. Thats $11.00 for 2 hours of internet. I know that Starbucks is trying to milk the whole "coffee scene" for all its worth, but I'm pretty sure they've ruined it. They've created a 'drive through mentality' for the ONE remotely affordable dining/chillin experience our country has left. I know its more than Starbucks. It is our culture. But our culture SUCKS! At least in this regard. We are ALWAYS in a hurry. We are busy busy busy, and why? Think about it, we are like the richest people on the planet, and yet, we still feel poor, because all of the money that we make goes straight to "living" right? If we, as a country, spent less money on coffee drive through, and put more of that money into our savings accounts that, in the end, went towards other things, like, say, feeding people, I think we'd stress ourselves out less. Plus, the whole point of a coffee shop, to me, is to build community while enjoying...you know, coffee - and art, and music! Which this particular Starbucks had none of, by the way.

Basically, I'm just offended that they (the man) keeps trying to take take take. And I am confused as to why I am still give give giving.

So I asked the barista's where the nearest Caribou was. They told me. I left. And now I'm here.

It is STILL the man, for sure.

But haven't purchased anything yet, they are playing some jazz, and I can use the internet for as many hours as I want without spending $11.00.

Pffft.

down in the valley

I need to find a balance.

I need to discover wisdom.

I need to live in peace, write with joy...

and sing.

There is no place I would rather be than in my own little world, making my own music, singing my own songs, and knowing that there is more to that moment than music.

Simply put, I want to be wrapped up in one thing that reaches beyond melody, hears my voice for more than its words. I want to be found. I want to be found in Him.

I have been learning so much lately. I feel scrambled, and unsteady. But I feel a twinge of hope - hope or something awfully like it.

I am humbled in knowing that this world will fail you. People will fail you. Love...

love will leave you.

and life...

is just one single drop of water that falls into a 50 gallon bucket of my mind's comprehension of time.

I want my days to be filled with more than time. I want my days to be filled with eternity.

I want. I want. I want.

"delight yourself in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart"

I am on a quest to stand wherever I am, drenched in the water of whatever circumstance, sailing on the searching seas of my mind's understand and simply, delight in Him.

Oh, creator of color - give me eyes to see your beauty.

Oh molder of my years - give me ears to hear your...

sweet
surrounding
symphony

numero uno!

It has been quite a while since I have called myself a "blogger". I was into xanga and livejournal years ago, but found myself too busy for it or something.

I'm not exactly sure why people blog. I mean...I keep a journal that no one sees, and I occasionally write things that you might possibly catagorize as "my thoughts" on myspace and facebook. I guess when people have public view of what I'm saying, I don't really know who I'm writing for. I suppose it would be easier to lay some background...for me, for whoever...

I am currently writing from the computer room in my parents hosue. Months ago it was covered in paintings and flyers for concerts that I had gone to. It was a pastel "pink" color that I despised but had grown neutral to, being that I had spent every night (give or take...) sleeping in this same room. Now the room is the same...pastel style of color it was before...but now it is green. Both colors are far too "easter" for me. In any case, its not usually my choice for retreat. Except now, that everyone else in my family is asleep and there is no one being publicly annoyed about anything - it is quiet, almost?

I live in my parent's basement. I have 2 huge book shelves as one of my walls, and a shower curtain for a door. Its "ghetto" but it definitely has character. If nothing else, it serves as a place for my books, my paintings, my sewing machine, my bed, and my clothes. It'll do for now, or until I can make rent somewhere else. The only thing that is legitamitely bothersome is how musty it is. It makes the air heavy and cool...and hard to breathe which means I usually wake up with a sore throat.

I'm just doing the "job hunt" thing right now. I really feel like I am supposed to work full time at a coffee shop, so I'm just...waiting more or less until some place is actually "hiring". In the next week or so, if I still don't have any possibilities lined up, I'll just settle for working yet another dead end job that I'll work crappy hours for, under immature and unplease-able managers while serving needy customers with bad attitudes and making barely enough money to buy ramen with. I sound like such a negative nancy, I know. I just think having a job that you can actually enjoy is so important. Or at least a job where your skills are needed and utilized.

The reason I don't have a job though, is because I just moved back home. In May I went out west, and worked at a lodging facility inbetween Yellowstone and Grand Teton National Park (in Wyoming). Living in the mountains was definitely an experience. I love being out "in nature" and using a brook's water to brush my teeth, showering buck naked in the wilderness, and being more afraid of a bear finding me than a man, and seeing buffalo grazing in feilds of wildflowers on my daily run...but I also love music venues and cell phone reception. Not that it matters now, anyway, because I owe T Mobile money...and my phone won't work until I pay them. Whoops.

It seems to be a trend in my life that every time I am away, I am just homesick. And every time I'm home, I just want to run away. I think it might be a "control" thing, but I'm not sure. The song that I have had repeating in my circumstance though, plays a tune to which I am longing to sing along to...

All I need is You, Lord.
Is You Lord.
All I need is You.

You hold the universe.
You hold every one on earth.

I have learned that my God is a provider. He is a healer. He is a redeemer.

I am wandering yet again, in this dull routine, but my God, he sees me.