To This Day

A powerful poem about the internal wounds & heartaches that we deal with -- frequently at the hands of others. Highly recommended.

Lies & Plans

* for Laurence Tureaud ("tah-ROE"), AKA “Mr. T”

(To the Pupil)

When will you rea-lies

that all these “truths” they’re telling you

don’t add up

because the math can’t be found

in the Source — they’re not sound!

(To the Professor)

The people you’re duping

are living in a stupor

and need to be shook awake

or their souls, they might bake

in an atmosphere that doesn’t allow

for human messiness;

there’s just too much stress

and pressure to be perfect

and have it all together,

or for God to come find

you every time you’re in a bind.

What do you say to the ones

who continue in pain;

who do their best, over circumstances

trying to reign?

Attempting to wield forces

out of their control,

clutching to things

on which they don’t have a hold

because they’re part of

something bigger than them;

you can’t keep this Wild One

boxed up in your pen…

Life is not a formula;

never has been, never will be.

Yes, I just used “never” twice,

but that’s because these people

are being led around like three blind mice —

they don’t run at all,

they just stumble and fall

like a blind man in the dark

after you’ve rearranged his furniture

that he had so carefully memorized,

like a scripture that was misquoted

to him a hundred times…

(To the People)

Yeah, Scripture’s a bedrock,

and you can stand on it, firm,

but there are some lessons in life

that you will still have to learn.

They don’t teach these

in any school

except the School of Hard Knocks –

it’s just the right “jewel.”

A “diamond in the rough,”

the only one with the guts

to give you “the right stuff”

and not erode your trust

in the One who can give

without ever taking,

who loves from the heart

without ever faking.

So poke, prod, and prove

every spirit

and look at the fruit –

not just of the professors,

but from his pupils, too.

Find who you want to be like,

and follow that man,

but only as he follows Christ…

That is the plan.

Roost Yourselves: Musings of a Restless Sleeper

Come, friends,
Roost yourselves upon My branches,
And you will find relief
From your nightmarish fancies.

Unable to find rest in this tumultuous sea
Of blankets tossing from restless sleep,
Swim a lap with Me to find your peace.

For though it is yet night,
The birds outside sing to My delight
And remind you of the coming dawn.

It will not always be this dark,
And then you’ll find that you’re not alone.

But in the mean time,
Trust that I’m still with you
As I promised that I would always be.

Follow My whispers,
And you will always find Me.