Category Archives: black

Junk Food and Gasoline

A world that sends you reeling from decimated dreams. Your misery and hate kill us all. So paint it black and take it back. Let’s shout it loud and clear. Defiant to the end we hear the call…to carry on.  ~My Chemical Romance

Traveler Sunshine The Clouds Wilderness

Let me tell you a little story about myself.
A little story that shows how I think.
It is presented in lots of speak that doesn’t stream together.
But who cares, let’s have a look.

Traveling down a road he looks to the other side and decides to go off on his own.
A motivation brought on by the longing of something different.
Yet, when the road is back into view, he runs back to it with his tail between his legs.
A coward some might say, others might call it a tactical retreat.

This man takes  a few steps into the wild and sees a light.
One that defines and shines in the sky, both at night and during day.
When he is adrift it lights his way and when he hides it brings out what he wants to keep hidden.
An open book that is hidden well behind this tree.

Next, he sees himself in a parade.
Colors are everywhere, and then in the distance he sees it.
It looks like hope… hope in the form of a black shrouded figure running off into the crowd.
The parade is going swell, so he decides not to pursue the silent observer.

The floats fly high in the sky.
Held up by the dreams of those around him.
Their colors represent the wins he wishes he could have.
Also illuminating the sin that is always in his head.

One day the shrouded man came to his door.
He knocked and knocked, but he did not answer its call.
Glued to TV screens and gasoline…
Junk food and short bursts of ecstasy that mean nothing in the long run.

The knocking began coming at least once a week.
Always lasting for hours at a time and sometimes he answers the call.
A wave hits his chest when he does for the entirety of the worlds oceans crash into his apartment.
He drowns and lives again as the shrouded mans’ cloak disrobes to reveal the light that is always present.

The end of our tale is close and the climax may come.
The problem with that though is the story is continuous and I don’t know how it will end.
The only part I am sure about is that the other side will be there with open arms,
But what will need to be endured to get there is not in my control.

He sits still, the only thing moving is his mouth.
Singing a song about hope, love, death, pain, and life.
An eclectic mix of power pop, metal, and rock.
A blending of ideals, looking for a balance of learning about other views and solidifying his personal beliefs.

He sits and he sings.
He sings because it is worth it to him to understand the melodies that have been given to him.
He sits and he weeps.
He weeps for the chance to make a difference, or for happiness and joy that can sometimes ring true.

He is sitting their singing the songs of saints and sinners.
Singing the songs of pain from the unbelievers.
Singing the songs of hope and redemption.
He waits for the knock to come and the ocean to meet him once more.

I look and I see the story unfolding all around me.
Wondering if it is just me who sees their life in metaphorical agony?
Wondering if it is just me who examines their hopes and dreams in context of melodies?
All in all I see it as a dance between me, myself, and the Maker of I.




Morning Sickness

“Every lament is a love song.” ~Switchfoot

He stands on the edge of his mind and his heart.
Largely distracted by what is going on around him, and what is going on inside. 
Which one will win?
He knows, but he doesn't feel like telling and one. 

A morning sickness that has nothing to do with pregnancy.
A sickness developed from opening his eyes and realizing he is alive.
Stricken to his sheets, the ones that feel like home.
For the floor is lava and o scary to venture into alone.

Ducking and diving in and out.
Avoiding the fire that's coming from all around him.
The gun sight is set to his heart and others to his head.
One good shot and everything goes away, from them or even from the one he is carrying.

But the truth is he doesn't want this to be the case.
I don't think any of us really do.
But sometimes this world seems to be too much, and all he wants is to be somewhere else.
With someone who will never forsake him.

He sits alone on the porch that looks out into the yard.
A storm is brewing and the lightening is coming at regular intervals.
The wind picks up and the trees start to sway to the beat.
Clap clap, bang bang, flash flash...boom. 

His funeral is tomorrow and not an eye is dry.
Closed casket in the morning and sandwiches with aunts in the afternoon.
"We should get together more often." They will say.
"What an awful way to get the family together."

Leaving behind the mother and the father.
A part of the world ripped away by one single act.
Friends that loved  him, now on the floor wondering what they could have done better.
Wondering what they could have done to help him fly...

Easy Listening Meet Metal

“This is for the kids with the beaten in lips, whose parents try to shut them up using their fists. Keep living loud and proud. They never can hold you down. This is for the kids with a soul like mine. When people tell you living is a waste of your time. Keep living loud and proud. They can never hold you down.” ~Beartooth


What is going on inside of the exits?
Inside of the blacks and the whites?
I am going to sit and here and listen to a few songs.
Ones that enter into my head and don’t ever let go.

Detailing the lies being told and figuring out what is in the fold.
Heading towards an entrance or an exit.
It doesn’t really matter which, because they are one and the same.
Listening to a song that I decided will bless your name.

A thunderous drive into the double bass.
Answering the calls of the screamer to the singer.
A metal drive that couples punk into the machine.
Mixing clean singing with chaos, that brings out the beauty of  everything around me.

A melody contradicting dichotomy.
Empathy surging through my entropy.
Organized chaos diving in and out of my song.
I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I weep and then I yell.
I call out and fall.
I decided to come down on my own.
I didn’t need your sympathy, but I needed your eyes.

This song is one that has highs and lows.
Singing about the kids that decided their lives don’t deserve a song.
What Hell are we living in when music can’t bless your soul?
A complete set of lies that answer only to the name of the enemy.

Light the fire and drive into the melody.
Set fire to the city and couple it with life.
For it is better to burn it to the ground… 
Than living a life of mediocrity.

I will sit here for a while and listen to my song.
I love seeing how it has developed.
A driving force of the double bass and the screams that ignite my soul.
Then to mellow out and sing out a praise.

Cheers to you…the empty and the lost.
Cheers to the easy listening and to the metal.
Cheers to the kids that decided to come to the show.
Cheers to you and your life that is more beautiful than you know.

“We’re nothing but hollow vessels in search of what makes us alive. I never said this was my revolution when you looked me in the eye.” ~Underoath


Take it Real Slow (Blurry Vision)

“And when you lie your lips curl like a wave of separation, and when you laugh you know you give it away.” ~Fair


He knows but no one is telling him.
Blinded by the answer that is right in front of his face.
The dark that surrounds his eyes is not the last thing he will remember.
He just wishes someone would come out and say it.

Take it real slow and let it all go.
Be encouraged by the winds’ song as it blows away disbelief.
When the day makes it even harder to see,
Sing out into the dark and tell it to shut up.

For this blurry vision isn’t for you.
He knows, but she won’t tell a soul.
Trying to play nice and wanting to only know the truth.
With problems spanning loneliness and overcrowded populations.

His world is a dichotomy of ups and downs that never seem to stop. 
Take it real slow and don’t forget to be you.
Be encouraged that you’re breathing air tonight.
When the day makes it harder to see,

Shout into the dark and tell it you are strong.
For this blurry vision isn’t for you.
A thin wall is the only thing blocking awkward situations.
Hearing the voices on the other side. 

All he wants is to know the truth.
Is that too much to ask?
If you do find out will it make you feel better?
It is very possible.

If you do find out what will your next move be?
Take it real slow and remember you are not alone.
Be encouraged by the love that is all around.
When the day makes it harder to see,

Cry out to the dark and tell it there is a light on the other side.
For this blurry vision is not meant for you. 
If you do find out the end will not come.
For your dreams spark a time meant for somebody to be by your side.

If you do find out, what will your next move be? 
Captivate your reality into clarity.
Don’t let the eyes of your heart be fuzzy.
He knows but no one is telling him.

Blinded by the answer that is right in front of his face.
The dark that surrounds his eyes is not the last thing he will remember.
He just wishes to know, so he can then go out of his way to repent and surrender. 
Instead of sitting there wondering if it is going to get better. 

“Consequence, it’s our need in times like these. Feeling free…it’s our modern disease. You’re a classic disaster, with a knack for losing your exterior. I’m so sick…from staring at the mirror. This is my panic…this is my call to arms.” ~Underoath


This Ends Now!

Grit your teeth, pull your hair, paint the walls black and scream, ‘F*** the world, cause it’s my life, I’m gonna take it back,’ And never for a second blame yourself. Hold on tight, this ride is a wild one. Make no mistake, the day will come when you can’t cover up what you’ve done. ~All Time Low


This ends now!

Awhile ago I was scorn and torn.
I was afraid of letting go, when the opportunity for another entered in.
I am drowning in a sea of my own making.
Well,  I vow to put an end to the madness.

This ends now!

Self deprecating humor that is also serious.
Not accepting that I am better than what I tell myself.
I am hurting those around me while I hurt myself.
And I must learn to pray before I open my mouth.

This ends now!

Little red flags pop up all around.
Flags that I produced without even knowing.
I recognize the problem and I fight to overcome.
I need to relinquish control and let my Maker guide my hand.

This ends now!

An apology to the ones that are around me.
An open letter to the answers that are before.
A set rule that I am putting into place.
Where my petty anger will not become my role.

This ends now!

Here it is…
This anxiety is nothing fresh, but the approach to dissipate it must ring new.
An approach that is better than testing.
An approach that brings together what is new and true.

This ends now!

I weep for forgiveness and hope to build from here.
I weep to enter into a new bond that does not equal a bash against myself.
For when I hurt me, I hurt you.
And that my my friend, my love, my family is something I never wish to do.

It end here!

It Hurts When Things Go Right

“I threw everything out that doesn’t make sense, to find a thousand more things that don’t make sense and I can’t help but get lost in a fault like this. When I don’t know how to hide myself in open air. Where I’m all alone.”

~It Hurts When Things Go Right~

I fall and I sin.  
I go down flat on my face.  
I kill God everyday! 
Yet, He loves me anyway. 
I see the world in shades of gray.  
When black and white fail me. 
Just a bit further.  
Just a little bit of sin.

An inch by inch life.
A second by second kind of day. 
A realization that causes me to sway.
When I realize nothing I do is right today.
What is good and can I achieve it? 
Can I get past my entitlement to see grace? 
Is this life worth my presence? 
When I wake up and have already failed. 

I choose my fate everyday. 
When I fall on my knees and pray. 
I choose to die with honor. 
Instead of dead in the water.
You see that lake? 
On the other side is a house built out of lies. 
This house is my house. 
I spend most of my time hoping I built the foundation out of rock. 
One card at a time my house goes up. 
One black card after another building my life. 
The red cards lying by my side asking to be used. 
And me too scared to live my life without a lie.
The wind begins to blow and my cards tumble. 
They fell so fast but the foundation I saw was true. 
I look at the red cards. 
And I begin building with the truth.
The house is now built out of red and some black
For I am not perfect and I sometimes neglect. 
I neglect the truth but expect nothing more than love 
And and a hope of a wish to give to Him to break my foolish hands.

I am a man that needs to be me. 
I need to be loved. 
I need to be free. 
I am a man that always falls to his knees.
I have pain like any other. 
Bad things happen.
But entitlement is not what keeps me going. 
What keeps me going is the hope that one day the pain will go away.