Just to Vent

[IDEAtor]

"Facing it"

The learning, the tests, the trying to impress.
I detest.
I cannot do my best, with all of this unrest.

You jab me with your watching eyes, your counting my mistakes.
You twist my arm while I work anxiously, hoping to not be late.

But it is nothing too hard for me, I've been hindered here before.
Only, it was my self-pity that kept me from the door.

So here I am, still facing you you.
Your stare cuts my every breath.

You're annoyed,
because I've ignored...
the pain inside my chest.


--IDEA

 

[IDEAtor]

"Against myself"

Kick the tree bark and cry to momma.
You think it matters?
Don't flatter yourself.
Save the drama.
Do something else.
Build up another, don't tear 'em down.
...with your cunning words...
or tooling frown.
Your cursing is worse because that attitude stinks.
Don't blame nature for the way that you think.
Just bite your tongue, as you pray to God.
But don't build up your pride.
Just slow to a stop.
Listen instead of talking so much.
Consider your plight:
Your complaints are the crutch.

 

[IDEAtor]

"Going through that stage"
Not every applause is meant for you.
The stage holds more than one actor, you know.
Even so, this is not your scene.
Wait in the back, avoid being seen.
You think this is reality, when its really a dream.
So wake up from the sleep.
Your alarm is ringing.
The clapping's for me.
We gotta get going for..., you know.
What? You forgot?
Thanks a lot.
Just get up and shower,
we gotta get there within the hour.
But we won't make it, with your hiding.
So...
(clap, clap, clap.)
stop the fighting!

 

[IDEAtor]

I cannot leave a blank?

 

[IDEAtor]

"No kidding"
Everything meant to be written begins in a child or God.
The gap for error is tremendous.
Except that God is immeasurably good at what He does.
That leaves us.
While we may think we are greater,
We began as if nothing.
Now, that says something about us all!

Oh, and I forgot the other celestial beings.

 

[IDEAtor]

"Part of another race"
What if I could run real fast and stop at a moment's notice?
Instead, I sluggishly take one step before I bite the dust.
What if I could win a race, one that's for a charity?
But how can I lap 'em all, if I have yet to get up?
What if I could break a record, one that left my name as inspiration to others?
Right now, it isn't likely. Although, I do break a little sweat just by thinking of it.
What if I pursued my greatest potential, not in the future but now?
That seems a little more manageable.
But I wonder who will manage

 

[Spiritualpixie]

Great writing

 

[IDEAtor]

Great writing

Thanks for the appreciation.

 

[IDEAtor]

"Invisible Box"
There is a line wrapped around my life,
it is sharp at every turn.
It is unseen by me,
but known by most,
It's another path to learn.
But the point of it is to
get out of it.
To step beyond such simple walls.
But I get used it,
just looking through it.
And I think, "I've seen it all."
But the windows through which I find my view
are blurred by my vision, you see?
There's no glass, no rope, or electric fence...
There's nothing that hinders me.
The only ties that keep me still
are the ones found in the mind.
The moment I realize my imagined
restriction,
I'll get rid of my blinds.
But for the time being,
I am where you find me.
Stuck with unwanted estate.
While all the while,
you half-way smile.
Because you're learning to love
what I hate.

 

[IDEAtor]

"The perfect page"
The page is perfect for your strumming fingers.
It holds the answers you require.
The problem is, before you find it, your eyes will likely tire.
So don't think that unseen results
mean your questions are unheard.
Instead, be attentive, less distracted,
when you finally read God's Word.

 

[IDEAtor]

"When and where"
Lord, I thank you for the way you show up.
When words won't rise to the surface from the depths,
You meet us, still.
When emphasis is on the wrong part of the message,
You meet us, still.
When we wonder what is next-- and what you are thinking,
You meet us, still.
When we've given up, won't even look up,
still, you meet us.
God, you are too infinitely amazing to thank concisely.
But you are not so far away.
Thanks for showing up, when we need you the most,
Thanks for meeting us where we are.
But most of all,
Thanks for where you have yet to lead us.
You lead us... Still.

 

[IDEAtor]

"Shock therapy"
That moment when you learn not all puppies play nice,
or when you meet someone sharing your name-- online.
Or when you write a new story, to find it's been done.
Or when you lose what you thought your team already won.
Moments like these are shocks to the core,
you thought you knew better, but you learned something more.
When will it occur, then, that moment of Truth;
When it is realized in your own eyes,
Someone knows better than you?

 

[IDEAtor]

"Ode to the Mods"
(Note: I don't remember what an ode is, but I like this title.)

You work behind the scenes.
Your attention to detail is priceless.
And your openness to suggestions is boundless.
You work long hours.
Your concern for a Christ-oriented community is noticed.
And your desire to see others know Him is recognized.
You work to improve constantly.
Your outstanding efforts are never enough-- in your eyes.
And this results in a brighter future...
because you care.
So, thanks, moderator.
Your investment is one of the best.
Your ministry still reaches me.
And it compels many to give back.

--IDEA

 

[IDEAtor]

The table stands
I sit there alone.
Or so a passerby may think.
But the truth is
Someone's getting my Drink.

 

[IDEAtor]

NOTE: The computer kicked me off,
so that is unedited and incomplete.
I posted to save the thought, but I am unable to edit that post.

 

[IDEAtor]

This is random. No spelling, research, or correcting grammar, or any other double-checking.
It will be bad! This is purely for ideas..

Water for the gourney. is good.
the journey is replenished.
by the kindeness of a cup...
a extended offereing of your love.
it is prolongs mmy life.
even at its end.
And it nouriches your own,
my friend..

I call this poem/concept "A cup to Continue" (the "C" in "Continue" is intentional, as it pertains to the eternal Continuation).

Well, that is all... for now....

 

[oldethennew]

may you continue as you believe you are led,
for your bed has already been made...

 

[IDEAtor]

Note: This was random, so like most things I write, it does not fully connect. Slight editing.

"You, regardless"

You count, regardless of opinion.
Sure, you're overlooked, by many.
And you are hated by the masses.
Yet your potential is what gives strength
to the voiceless. Your action can turn
the tide back towards the oceans.
You are small, but you're like a small button...
that keeps a spaceship on its course.
Or if you have no sway, then you
are the thrust. And if you cannot propel
then you shine a light. The point is,
you are significant piece to where
we are headed. You are not the driver,
but you are like wheels that spin against
friction, toward hopeful destination.
But there is more than resistance due to circumstance.
As much as you bring with you,
especially if good intentions are attached,
you are directly assaulted,
you are vehemently attacked.
Who are you?
another vote....
an opinion that is overlooked
with a voice that matters.

 

[IDEAtor]

Note: Just a stream-of-thought, not really dissected for truth or presentation. It is not a sermon that's built on scripture. It is creative writing... to vent.

"Other-bound"

Books are the concepts of men,
bound to the shelves of time,
until they are laid waste,
by those who do not care,
Or by some other catastrophe.
The shelves themselves seem sturdy enough.
But there will be a day when they are
shaken, broken, and will burn to all ends.
Knowing this, some try to upload books.
They try to save the temporary,
on a longer-lasting device or material,
within their newest unbreakable system.
They replace the shelves, if they can.
They replace the books, and you've accepted this.
And they seek to replace man with
loyal machines. More efficient,
more machines, and better living.
This is what's promised.
These are what they pursue.
Yet, they cannot divide the soul from spirit.
They cannot add the image of God to the physic
of man. They cannot reinvent eternity.
And neither can they destroy it's longevity.
In fact, the ideas we all possess collectively,
the ones we try to keep or hide....
they are hacked by an Eternal Code.
If not, they are the Code itself.
The bookshelves will wilt into ashes.
And devices will be replaced.
Men and machines will dismantle
each other. But the victor is already
Self-evident. Time, as we can conjure it,
loses. Ultimately, and intrinsically,
the Eternal holds us all.
In fact, we are like the most prized of books,
a collection of varied skins with stories to share.
We may not know our place, which is in Eternity's Hands.
But we are loved better than we ever loved.
We don't do this by chance.
We are this by Choice.

 

[IDEAtor]

Note: Another free-write. Distracted in writing. Sitting with my grandmother as she colors.
Nothing perfect. Just pondering.


"Still Shaking"
She shakes without trying.
She can barely feel through her hands.
She walks with a hobble,
sometimes bumping into the wall.
She is frail compared to her youthful roots.
She is brittle through her bones.
She can hardly get out, or move.
And when she does, there is pain.
There sorrow over what's been lost.
Each step is a reminder of each tick of the clock.
the clock that is sometimes dead,
because she cannot get to it to check the battery.
She wakes up with a grateful heart,
but that is about all she holds that matters.
The things that rest on either side of her,
they mean nothing anymore.
She misses the hand of her companion;
the warmth of his compassion and respectful romance.
Her inaudible desperation may be unheard, but it is felt.
Her heart is heavier by the day,
as her countenance settles with each breath.
And that's just her husband.
Countless others have been lost in war, during the battles of life.
Some were ensnared by their choices.
Others uncharacteristically stepped into a trap.
While others sunk into an unknown pit.
Sure, there are many who remain, running circles around her upbringing.
"Get with the times," she's told.
The irony is, the more she tried
the faster her grounds eroded.
Yes, she is alone.
she is weak.
she is slipping out of the mind of many.
This woman, however, keeps each passerby
in her prayers. Even when the specifics elude her,
she intercedes, specifically.
Even though she shakes,
it is with no fist of guarded pride.
Rather, she trembles in the hours, days, and (if any left) years--
because she senses the urgency for your decisions.
for your time left. For the need of another miracle.
Is she on running anymore?
No. She hardly walks.
But her heart races for your victory.
Even so, she quietly waits.
The old is about gone.
But the Faithful, He Remains.
And so she does, a while longer, too.




(Note to self: Edit... someday)