Lyrical poetry for your mid-week


Photo Courtesy:  Swedish National Heritage photostream



I pack a punch

Right to the gut

With a song that I wrote

since I only had so much

I live in a world

You have never seen

Ethereal forests

Filled with evergreens

Remember when there was intrigue

In a disappearing act

Where do you go

When the others act like that

I sought advice

in comrades I knew

but they could not console me

in the mystery of you

I will strive for the higher path

No matter how I’m hurt

I seek comfort in someone else

To the man who won’t desert

Filling up the holes

Where the others fall so short

The one who teaches creation

Is the only one who can bind what’s sore

You don’t sing me to sleep

I do that on my own

The silence is my symphony

I won’t take water from a stone

Love must define me

But I must guard my heart

No matter how it unravels

I know I finish what I start


The need to be seen and the gift of getting lost


Photo Courtesy:  State Library of New South Wales flickrstream I do not condone the usage of cigarettes in this picture… ha.

Each of us is a cog in the wheel of the great symphony of mankind.  Our voices blend in cadences and sometimes result in dissonance.  We all want to be seen, heard, appreciated, understood and loved.  We vocalize thoughts for some validation and eat heaping platefuls of both negative and positive energy from social media feeds daily.  A desire to be seen is something we feast upon.  But is being seen really what it’s cracked up to be?

Do I really want others eyes upon me continually?  We musicians tend to strive for recognition as if our art is only validated through more and more exposure.  But recognition comes with a high price on the pathway to fame.  Perhaps we are diseased with a weight of self.  Look at me, adore me, follow me, share my stuff, like me, love me, befriend me, idolize me.  Is that really what we want?  If I should never be able to get lost, disappear from the world for a day and run free, my soul would suffocate.  I sometimes pity the creative people, especially high-profile artists, in this world. They have intense pressure put on them to daily perform on a level of perfection.  I pity their inability to quietly slip into the unknown to observe, write, think and be.  It isn’t natural to think that someone can be switched on that often.  True art needs a cultivation period.  To get lost in the woods for a day is a blessing taken for granted.  To latch the door and head outside and feel the ground beneath our toes is something we have yet to do because we’re far to busy every day.  To learn how to be still and know that He is, and that we are not, is an aspect of life we too often choke out.  We let the “cares and the deceitfulness of riches” suffocate our hearts and smother our souls.   And I must ask myself why I let my soul wither away from malnourishment of good things and a lack of breath.  If breathing is important for physical life, perhaps it is important for me mentally and even spiritually.  Take some time to really meditate on the blessings and your purpose, vision and goals in life.  Don’t half-heartedly bounce from activity to activity without really comprehending and assessing the significance of each thing you do and whether it draws you closer to your Maker or farther away.

To the artists… don’t let recognition or lack thereof be your ultimate goal.  Are you any less of an artist because only two people hear you or 2 million?  Not in the least.  Keep sharing your message with the world and if you are genuinely in line with your truest self, practicing what you say, people will listen and take it upon themselves to also share your message.

Ponder the reason why you do what you do.  What is your purpose in pursuit?  Steeping in your ultimate goals can help you eliminate daily tasks or events that are merely cluttering your time and mind.


What isn’t, what is


As I listen to French music, I found this image on the Toulouse Flickr page

Love isn’t just a one shot chance

Love is decisions

Love’s in the overall plan

Love isn’t giddy and summertime lust

It has arrows both ways

But love rests in one you can trust

Love isn’t words and flowers and wealth

Love serves one over self

Love isn’t a picture, filled with some perfect face

Love patches the broken

Love finds strength in grace.


This poem was written last week, but it was ideal for today.  I have thought a lot about how we do not radically love to the fullest until it hurts us.  We are called to a higher level of love as followers.

A mind with a view


Jessie Woodrow- thanks to this organization 

After listening to some thoughts from people last week, I realized that our whole perspective on life is really twisted.  We, and I, live in fear of aging of dying and leaving this world, but it shouldn’t be this way.  We should see our lives as the portal into eternity.  What if I always viewed my life that way?  I might not get so upset at people or worry so much about trying to make my mark or prove myself to this slowly vanishing existence.   I struggle with looking forward to death.  How many of us do- in a positive way I mean? Realizing that ultimately if we’ve only been spent by and for ourselves, we’ve really not left much of a legacy here.

It’s like a funnel, this life.  It’s only siphoning us into a much larger world of eternal existence.  I can’t imagine what that’s like and frankly, it freaks me out sometimes and I have to stop thinking about it.  I think the unknown scares me.  I think sometimes I fear I’ll be bored forever.  But I heard an uplifting sermon recently that talked about how heaven will be eternal bliss.  That feeling of newness and excitement continually overpouring like a fountain.  Trusting God is something I have to work at.  I need to remind myself that he made me and knows me and wants good for me and knows exactly how to fulfill me.  I have to remember that the reasons I groan and ache here are because I am not at home with Him.  At times, I get too comfortable here- thus the problem with our poshy lifestyles.  It’s probably helpful to get out of that comfort zone more than we reside in it.

In conjunction with the end of your life is the perspective of the rest of your life.  It is interesting to realize what defines you when you start to strip earthly things away.  If you weren’t able to paint your body like a canvas with tattoos or the latest trend in the fashion industry or do your hair in a specific way or stand behind an instrument every night or shell out your fancy business cards, what would you look like?  Would your character speak volumes about who you are?  I am blessed to have several people who have reminded me of this recently.  These “about us” things really are just tangents to who we truly are.  Sometimes it’s easy to let our material goods and talents define us.  We’ve been taught to express ourselves since we were little.  And though I don’t deny that being unique and an individual is something God appreciates, maybe we tend to value people more or less for what they can DO and not who they ARE.  Inhabit who you are and the gifts you’ve been given, but also be willing to set them aside of you at times and say- that’s not who I am at the core- those are things that I do.  I think this is becoming more real to me as I have been shifting in my passionate pursuits and the desire to feverishly chase a dream has been melting a little from my heart.  Maybe it’s age or maybe I’m just tired.  But, strangely enough, I have had more opportunities to play music live than when I was touting my talents to the world and trying to figure out how to market myself and who to talk to in the music industry.  Funny how things begin to fall into place once you let go a little and just truly enjoy what you do and relinquish some control.

I don’t know where I’ll end up with music or writing or my career endeavors, but ultimately it doesn’t matter.  At the end of my life, what will matter is the way I’ve walked the journey through life.  It’s exciting to think big- to imagine yourself on an Olympic pedestal or playing music for those who truly love it or winning a Nobel prize.  But all of these things are just things that will collect dust and after the moment will cease to hold as much excitement as they once had.  Therefore, how you grow as an individual, the hard work that builds character, the way you treat others and the lives you influence all hold more weight than the actual attainment of the goal.  Remember that.  Tell me to remember that.  And let’s not let people, places or things define who we are.


Ash and Snow


photo credit: Denni

Dark approaches the night

Darker more so than hell

And dark were their hearts

Upon which ignorance fell

For the city was wealthy

A City so wise

Raining accolades, success

Slowly clouding their eyes

Dancing and revelry

Thrived in the streets

While the one on the throne

The devilish beast

The beauty danced to the industry’s


Uppers and downers

Roamers round-towners

Shame is a word

But a thing of the past

The rouge on their cheeks

Provided the only blushing

On their face that is cast

The ones true and just

Crying out

Loud as they can above lust

Tendrils of smoke

Clouding out from the beast

And the flames

that will claim them

Which begin at their feet

The others outside

Their upturned hands bearing x’s

Eternal bondage

The price

To be god for a moment

To pursue vaporous lust

With claws scratching forward

In gods they must trust.

~inspired by Revelation


Ado or Die

Within ourselves, it’s all we can take

And I can’t take anymore

I came across your secrets

loosely scattered on the floor

How I happen on the broken

It comes my way so much

From what I want to turn away

Commands of me so much

Self and love were fated enemies

Just a village built unsound

Want gives way to more want

It’s what I want this time around

And it’s not that I am blinded

While the lifeboat’s at my side

It’s merely laziness I harbor

When it’s truly do. or. die.


Chosen Vessels

We are all chosen vessels

For such a time as this

A remnant for a purpose

Something that we wouldn’t want to miss

A calling we’ve been given

If we let the Potter work

To each, his given talents

Not meant to bury or to shirk

We, the Beloved Children

Of a Father, full of grace

Who placed us in each moment

Me, a resemblance of His Face

With hands to work His service

And a mind to seek and know

In a world, teeming with wonder

And into it, I go.