Ring in a New Tune (Part 3 of 3)

It hurts like a tornado ripping through its specified target.
A misfortune of chaos, brightly throwing debris.
It is described as a cleanse.
But it feels like the end in my head.

It hurts like a hurricane tearing through the open coast.
Where locals are still in their boats,
Tourists have to change their plans.
And there is false hope when the eye shows its face.

Once more with feeling.
One more dream opened up and swallowed whole.
Once more with feeling.
When the land is not discernible from the sea.

Take me into the waves.
Take me to the edge of the Earth.
Where I can swim and maybe float.
Take me to the sea, so I may hear your voice in the waves.

Because God it hurts more than trying out self control.
It hurts because I lost your song.
That simple melody that defined me.
A tune unsung for too long.

I decided to fill up the oceans today.
One drop at a time.
One more salty distraction that leaks from my eyes.
I decided that your love is enough.

Because God it hurts more than listening to your voice.
It hurts because I lost your song.
That simple chord of hope.
A tune I have not sought after for some time.

Because God  it is time.
It is time to keep singing, whether I am on tune or not.
Because God I miss your waves.
Tossing and tearing right through me.

I would love to find the song.
Your song.
One with a melody I can follow.
Or one that is chaotic, but true.

And in those moments when the pain is unbearable.
And the hurt is deciding its own course.
There is a whisper that is near.
A voice that cuts through.

A song that is just for me.
One that is a sweet melody.
One that is chaotic and true.
One that is the center of me and you.

Because God it hurts more than the tree in the forest.
The one that tumbles and no one can hear it.
But I have your melody, I have your tune.
For your hope is enough, and your song is love renewed.

 

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Ring in a New Tune (Part 2 of 3)

 

Please Lord, give me at least one more song to sing.
One more voice to get me through the day.
A melody that I can follow.
Or maybe even one that is chaotic but beautiful.

Take a chord and let it ring true.
A single sound that lights this day through and through.
Follow it up with the beat of a drum,
So I may have a reason to walk and know where I am from.

Please Lord, give me one more song.
Let it stretch high and take shape before you and me.
A melody that I can follow.
Or maybe even one that is chaotic but true.

My expectations of myself cloud my expectations of others.
A shroud that muffles the sound of an otherwise beautiful tone.
I look and see, but do I really?
Do I see what really needs to be seen.

You look at my brokenness,
With my broken strings and busted tom.
You look at me in my depression,
And somehow you pull out a truth that I never saw before.

Please Lord, give me one more song to sing.
Fix my broken instruments, while I try and play before you.
Help me make a melody that I can follow.
Or maybe one that is chaotic but doesn’t mislead.

Please Lord, I am only a man.
One that is made from flesh and blood.
Maker, I need a song to sing.
A song to show the world that the soul is what needs to be cleaned.

Ring in a New Tune (Part 1 of 3)

Marking the task at hand, by gracing you with nothing.
Looking for an answer in the unlikely.
Finding it in the familiar.
But passing it up to do a ride along instead of listening to the truth.

I am but a man that makes too many mistakes.
I fail to see things that are right in front of me.
Like friendships and good food.
Like love and sushi.

Marking a task that enters into my mind, and dances to the tune of my Maker.
Slowly turning and making noises with my mouth.
Then taking it a step further and doing my day to the tune of the Lord next to me.
But even then I hurt, and I lie about the mistakes I make.

I am but a man that denies too many times.
I fail to see the good right in front of my eyes.
Like my Maker and pasta.
Agape love and sushi.

Tie down the initial intent.
Focus on the song that is presented to you.
Is it enough to keep going?
Or are you going to end it before noon.

To strike a chord and play for a crowded room.
To practice with a voice and a tune.
An answer to prayer that wasn’t about forgiveness.
The answer is coming from a guitar and a spoon.

So I beg for another song.
One that is for me.
One that follows a melody,
Or one that is chaotic and follows me through.

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.

 

 

Slow Down and Take a Deep Breath

“Future gardens from all this rain
Future flowers from present pain
We’re bound together and our lives are bound to change
You don’t know how beautiful you are. ”     ~Jon Foreman

Slow Down!

Activating prior knowledge to understand the things running in your head.
Damaging the psyche of your soul,
By displaying negative thoughts throughout your heart.
And despising what is underneath because you feel it is not good enough.

It’s interesting to point out that you make a mistake and then fix it,
But for some reason it just takes you back to a mistake further in your past.
I wish that you can overcome the mistakes that plague you,
To move forward and realize you are worth more than you know.

Take it into account that we are all human and are far from perfect.
We make mistakes and we pass it onto ourselves.
Time and time again we learn to answer questions we already know the answers, too.
But lessons that good, deserve to be learned time and time again.

Slow down and take a breath.
Put into perspective what is happening and what you are worth.
Don’t let your failures persuade you from who you really are.
Slow down and take a breath.
And remember that you have so many around you who care more than you know.

A Dwelling Place

“My heartbeat, my oxygen, my banner, my home, my future, my song, your hope is the anthem of my soul.” ~Switchfoot

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There is more to now than what is coming next.
Or what happened before the moment.
But we dwell on such things instead of wondering what is happening at this present moment.
Answering the questions of the past to try and determine our futures.

It is not wrong to think ahead, or learn from the past.
I encourage it daily.
The problem is sometimes we put more stock into who we are…
And forget to see where we’re at.

The person I am now is not the same as the one before.
Maybe I grew up, maybe I went backwards.
All I know is I am here and I am alive.
I am holding onto the hope that was placed upon my heart.

When I think to hard about what my mind used to call home,
I reject all the good that has happened since.
I retreat to a mindset that I have no desire to revisit.
I am not that person anymore and I need to leave the past where it belongs.

When I try to see passed the next five minutes, I start to see what I have not done.
“I have failed.” I say.
“Why am I single, why is no one there by my side?”
But God has a plan, and right now is where He wants me to be at.

I put too much stock into what I have not done.
I put too much stock into who I have been.
I should be happy with the now.
Happy with the man God has currently shaped me to be.

Thoughts brought on by reality.
Togetherness equals strength.
Family is more than an emotional crutch.
And hope is the desire of the past to the present, and to the future of all that I will do.

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...

"How can we be ourselves, if we don't know who we are?" ~Jon Foreman