Just to Vent

"What's left after laughter?"

After laughter peels,
what's real?
I am serious,
what's beneath the hilarious facade?
Is it a checklist forlorn,
fraught with exes?
Or is it potential, still-born,
leaving you helpless?
Are you full of muscle,
possessed by a hardened heart?
Or are you a deflated bag,
because you're torn apart?
After the laughter,
is there anything left?
You entered with humor,
but your presence is swept.
You try to smile,
to shape-up the sorrow.
But you figure regret will
be there tomorrow.
So why do you bother
to laugh when your sad?
Your emotions are real,
no matter how bad.
Instead, when you're hurt,
don't fake you're okay.
Take a time-out to listen,
Seek a moment to pray.

(I will likely build on this... someday --IDEA)

"Going out"

The music falls sideways into my ears.
The cascading chorus rushes over me.
The resounding joy of its message
lifts me from my position.
God uses the emotion and impressive composition.
I cannot stand still, but neither can I run.
I am moved by the moment, spun.
The lyrics are spot-on,
perfect for perspective.
I was lost before,
but I listen for directive.
I receive what's Said.
I turn to walk outside.
I'm no longer sitting down,
I've finally joined His Stride.

"Reading in the park"

Engine off,
keys out,
ball down,
feet out,
hit the ground,
kick the ball,
no one's 'round
to see you fall.
Get up,
sprint back,
make sure
you stay on track.
Exercise,
don't lose your breath.
Maximize the time that's left.
Lay down,
sprawl out,
breath in,
don't pass out.
Get up,
get in.
Get your book.
Start readin'.

"Pity party"

Mercy, does it resonate at all?
You've seen it displayed,
sincerely conveyed,
but do you brood when others get it,
because they did not get what they deserve?
Is your watching eye livid, because their actions are absurd?
Do you look to remind them of the past and what they've done?
Do expect them to suffer, to carry shame in the sun?
Do you look to chastise them, because their day is due?
or do you actually show pity, because that person was you?

Note: random, not edited

"Two of a kind"

Around a row of books,
she brimmed with lasting joy.
She spoke kind of loud;
I tried not to listen.
Within the sea of stories,
she witnessed how He saves.
I witnessed by accident;
she shared with intention.
I could not hear what she said,
but I picked up on the "Spirit."
I was compelled to pray,
I was compelled to take note.
I was compelled to approach the praise,
found amid the silence.
Behind the wall of words,
two women testified for a while.
I kept working on my project,
with my ingrown smile.
Then, after I worked a bit,
a lady came to me.
She asked, "You love Jesus?"
I said, "Yes, I do."
Then she took out a book, and she gave it to me to read.
Once she left, I flipped it open.
And saw it was good... for me.

Random free-write, no editing, just for creative practice. Expect errors.

Stay away from the rhyme.
Break away from the rhythm that's expected.
It is not
the pattern of words that matters.
Tempting, still, the writing lurks to blend in with common tendency.
But popular reply is not equivalent with
what's good.
So, what matters?
It is not this poem,
or any creation by man that's worth noting,
so much as how God destroys the status quo with
His spoken Agenda.
The Word from Above,
He implanted darkness with His Concern.
The letters, grammar, and literary devices were created,
then each one was uniquely Remembered.
He painted Light with His Concern.
And He spelled out the Future with His Wisdom.
The blank slate of echoless time was wrought upon.
And the results are amazing.
Being creative as He always is, the Author of Existence stirred up humanity.
And He loved investing Time there, into that part of the Larger Work.
In fact, He desired the Company of us all,
so He gave us a desire to be like Him,
knowing we could then love our own creations and marvel at how they are part of something Grand.
But like a pencil that slips onto the floor, we rolled away.
The question is, was the pencil pushed, or did gravity pull it?
Or did the pencil seek to see what beyond the Creator?
Well, it does not matter too much,
Because He Catches the Fallen.

"Closing time"

She was at work,
trying to close up,
but your appetite was activated.
She had the keys on the counter,
when you walked through the entrance.
Grateful for your business,
the employees turned to assist.
But you could sense something was off.
"Can you manage, I need to get to the hospital?" she briefed her crew.
Your heart listened as your stomach anticipated.

You waited for ordered sandwich,
You were in no hurry.
But you knew beyond shallow hunger,
that the lady behind the counter was ready.
Nerves had broken through her final salutation,
as she wiped up whatever mess was left to clean.
And you asked, risking further discomfort,
"Excuse me, why are you going to the hospital?"
Like when an actor breaks character,
the professional became personal.
"My sister," she said.

You did not want to push religion,
but only to offer encouragement.
You did not want to lie and say,
"I will pray," then do nothing.
So you search your soul for how to leave said woman?
In the meantime, she's back in close-up mode,
while your meal is still being made.
As if randomly, you leave your drink.
You head for the vehicle that's now cooled,
because fast-food is more of a wait.
But more than that,
because there is a greater need.
Then, after finding what you instantly sought,
You return with a bag.
You say the anxious leader, "Pick one for your sister."
Again, she is doing a last-minute chore.
(Hopefully, the food is in its bag. Oh, it is.)
And she slides her within the bag
and makes her selection.
Finally, "I'll pray for her" falls through.
And, with that, you grab your meal
And leave.

It is interesting, Jesus is called "the Bread of Life."
Yet, too many times, "damaged bread" is thrown out.
He, too, adds fullness to those who crave.
And He just as quickly is dismissed as "too frail."
Frail? Really?!
Too weak to face those who plotted to bring him to ruin?
Too weak to return to those who denied him, even after he saved one from drowning?
We look to self-satiate, while cutting bread from our diets.
Moreover, we often forfeit the daily Bread for a different fix.
But we hurt ourselves, when we count Christ as old and unreliable.
Instead, we'd do well to remember,
this sort of Bread is better than milk is for the bones.
So do yourself some Good,
Don't Forgo the Bread!

Steel weakens, too, ya know?
That which exists to support,
is strong to endure;
it also has a weakness.

If not weak, then count it as flexible.
Yes, that is it. The sound structure is malleable as well.
Only, it is not by choice of its own.
Rather, the strength that gave Superman his status,
it bows under internal pressure.

It gives 'way to a looming reality,
that the ground beneath its breaking frame dissolves.
Therefore, with nothing to sustain the solid mass,
it also sinks into a new trench, a pit of raw trial.

"Not so tough now, are ya?!" a tormenting voice bellows.
But the boasts are unheard, since only sorrow is felt.
And there's nothing more to see, except for a once-was-has-been.

The "kryptonite's" within.
And the steel senses it.


(Written after watching my dad face loss after loss after loss. He is steel to me, but today his heart sank.)

So here it is hiding in Idea's thread. I could not remember where and when i read it first. Liked it too.

Mar09, I am not sure what you are talking about, but I am glad for you.
It is always a ticklish feeling, to find a lost piece of creativity.

I am cleaning out random papers. This is a slightly re-written, unedited remnant.

"Raise"

The sun shines for a time,
but the Lord lasts forever.
I try to win (to no avail),
but I live because my Savior.
In the dark of night, I'm blind.
Yet Christ helps me see.
I attempt to walk, "all by myself,"
though it's God who carries me.
I find I know the truth,
but the world tells me I'm lost.
It is, after all, because of me,
Jesus paid the cost.
So the sun may fail to shine,
and I may lose the way.
But because the marks in His Side,
I know I'll be okay.
And because of this good news,
I gladly raise my eyes.
Because my hope is placed,
above the worst of skies.
...
If you happen to read this,
it is my prayer that you look beyond the sky, the situation, and the stress.
God is Over it All. This does not mean it is or feels easy. This is to say, "You are not alone in this."
Therefore, don't give up on God. Raise up your eyes. --IDEA

A prayer-poem.

"Smaller pieces"

I bring so little to the table,
the offering I give does not make a sound.
For I add nothing to the deficit.
I am pocket lint, nothing to lend.
I am entirely broken, not at all together.
My holed clothing of self-concern is ripping.
my shell is tossed, and I am thrown by this.

I cannot withstand the gouging feeling of helplessness.
I cannot hold my breath for the punch-line.
For I feel I am only here to be punched,
kicked down by a ceaseless crowd haters.
And the hate, oh, it is not of trolls or enemies of the flesh.
It is harsh conviction. It the mirror's cutting remarks.
It is the Truth, that I have something to do with it.
You see, the poverty is not my own?
It is shared loss, at another's expense.

I am not sure where the die fell against me.
But I will not roll again.
I am too tired to care.
I am too discouraged to hope.
I am too agitated to handle another chance.
Yes, I am depleted.
And so I'm down, left to writhe in self-pity.

Well...
Actually, I am meant to pray.
I am meant to trust,
to rest assured.
I am meant to count the blessings.
And trust that God's count is better than mine.
I am to believe that God has great plans for
a dire situation. And must, must, must not forget:
His Ways far exceed my relenting expectation.

Therefore, if I roll, it will be from the Push to Press Forward.
If I break into smaller pieces, that does not mean I matter less.
Rather, it means the search intensifies, love is lavished, and a miracle awaits.

Still, I confess. I am your dying congregation. So, Lord, now what?

"The form of a question"

Walking through the doorway,
I noticed an unexpected frame.

The figure hinged on my entrance,
while attention hung onto transpiring expression.

I had wondered what was around the corner,
but hardly imagined the surreal encounter.

My reality swirled, hummed, and pulled,
and the form ahead of me seemed like an illusion.

The lighting may not have changed,
but the glow of an angel was experienced.

Now, if someone manipulated the senses,
then it was by no condemning plot;

Because, I am pleased to share,
Heaven answered another prayer

...with somebody's question.


("What is the figure or form? What is the question? What is point of this poem?" Exactly.) --IDEA

"Finale"

The air screeches to a thunderous halt,
as fireworks turn in for the night.

A display of illuminating distraction
has subsided,

abruptly.


--IDEA

"Future at hand"

Clasping onto the threads of a graduation tassel,
one measured perceived success against the unknown.
Strumming the feather-like symbol of "congratulations,"
available options were weighed against "unreachable" dreams.

The occupied auditorium became a cloud of one's own thoughts.
Final grades, diploma, and applause became an echoed farewell.
The offered "green light" did not animate.
No amount of encouragement would budge the subject.

Truly, the flimsy fixture had been promoted.
It was this pensive character who was worn.

"Blinds can let the light in, too"

She pulled a Bible up from behind the desk.
Windows surrounded her, but the blinds were closed.
She sought intimacy from Another.
Of course, I happened to walk in then.
Unaware at the time, I asked, "How's the faith-walk?"
She replied without any words at first, lifting her Bible higher.
Then rated it, "I cannot read too much in a day, but I am liking it."
I asked about where she was, she quickly shared the reference.
It is clear, she is into it. She is growing in her knowledge and love of God's Word.
And she cannot wait to read more...
So, a little bit later, I leave.
I am excited by her growth.
I am challenged by her dedication.
Praise the Lord, she is likely to keep reading.

I think I may, too.

(Prayer: Lord, help each of us to be hearers, lovers, and doers of your Holy Word.
As we listen or hear, increase our understanding. Above all, get the glory.)

How do I pray for the world, without just passing it along so others will pray?
How can I pray (myself for others) really? How can I consider the needs of the world without?
And how can I stay fervent in such prayer? And when/where will such prayer lead me into action?
In love? Lord, I think it begins with remembering Your Power and Great Love.

The Enemy of our souls, the one who is against humanity, even those who rail against your Character,
he is scary. He is ruthless. He is cunning. --Ah, but Lord, You are the one who is Victorious.

We still battle, we still lose battles. We still are ambushed by the wicked one and those who follow his ways.
But we are not doomed. We may be destroyed, but we will be put together, lasting for eternity for the better.

The news may cover our graves (or not), but the Lord will raise us up.
Indeed, His Blood covers even me; His Faithfulness stretches across the whole earth.

And what marvelous Grace floods from the heavens!
That He considers the sinner, the one who hardly considered others.

Yes, Lord. You are Strong to Save. You are Good, like none other.
You laid it All down in the form of Christ, by hanging on an imperfect cross.

And You Resurrected Hope from the Tomb.
And You so you give us reason to lift our hands in praise and worship.

Lord, even in our weakness, unwakefulness, unwareness of how severe the need--
Lord, even when we doubt, You are Willing... to Restore.

But let us remember, your ways are Wise and Best-Timed.
Therefore, when it looks like we're too far gone, stuck, or forgotten.

Help us, help me to remember!
You hear our humble cries.

So God, I ask that you will help me to listen for how I may help someone in need.
Help me to rely on Your Provisions, as I put on the full armor of God.

And lead more of us into Your Everlasting Peace... Someday.
In Jesus' name, thanks. Your Will be done. Amen.

Unedited.

"The Hurdles of Life"


Scaled a wall to reach
...reach the other side,
to learn it was another,
...another step to climb.

I will not complain here.
Hey, I am past the base!
But I cannot stay here;
there's a "wall" in my face.
But then I look behind me,
to see there is no wall.
Compared to my hurdle-leaping,
there's a tantalizing Fall.
I would not have to suffer,
to bear the cross uphill.
I could reach the another "side"
And still have time to chill.
But do I step towards failure,
when a future still awaits?
Or do I turn, again,
to test my hands in faith?
Surely, God knows the answer,
for why walls seem like a Nightmare;
Such questions are hard to ponder,
but each step is meant to prepare.
So, with battle-lines observed,
I approach another barrier.
Courageously I'll climb,
clinging to His Word.
The Top is out of sight,
making the journey scarier.
But I continue advancing,
trusting in the Lord,



(...with my Life.)

IDEA--12/15/16


Note: This is written after hearing about the Angel God set up in the Garden of Eden and thinking about how humans try to bypass God's Plan. Note, it is not a works=salvation poem, it IS about working out the salvation imparted.

"Letters and numbers"

Wait...


A simple word, just four letters, yet it takes an eternity to get around. Trust, it has one letter more. Yet the weight of its meaning is just the same. God, fewer letters, but also the most mysterious of words. God is the one in whom we find the ability to Wait during the Pressure. He is also where we gather our ability to Trust in the heat of Battle. Me...the one I'm responsible for; and then there's u.


Wait... a simple word.



Remember:
"Strength will rise as we wait upon the Lord." --verse and lyrics