Dirty feet and
dirty floors,
See how all the
filthy money pours
across counter-tops and
tables stained,
not a cent is clean
or rightly gained.
Who dares overturn
our ways,
crack the whip
and halt our days?
Who dares let his eyes
grow sharp in rage
Who dares shout aloud
and then say,
This was to be a house for prayer,
but upon this holy ground
your dirty feet quick into wickedness
have trod;
This was to be a house of love,
but upon the poor and weak
your dirty feet quick and merciless
have trod;
This was to be a house for peace
but now comes near a sword and flames,
oh how I weep,
return, return,
come nigh to God.
Tag: writing
Soul Power
Morning all!! It’s Monday morning once again – the beginning of another (hopefully busy and exciting!) week. I’m sipping on my hazulnut mocha and enjoying the slow lightening of the western sky as the dawn continues its inexorable march. I really don’t even have that much to write about(since I just posted two days ago…two posts in three days – shocking!), but thought I would at least say hi.
A slow and ponderous turn of earth,
seems so heavy at times,
so full of nickle and iron
and far too many broken dreams.
Yet soaring through the not quite vacuum,
Soulful dance of nebulae and stars,
Not so heavy now, see?
Tapestry of space flutters,
dreamily.
The Ceaseless Sound of Rain
Oh hello there my darling,
Didn’t expect to see you today
Didn’t expect to smell your perfume
Didn’t expect to feel your gaze
And now my thoughts are wandering
Yeah my heart is pondering
And I’m truly wondering
What is that which binds us?
What is that which keeps us close?
What is that which twines our dreamscapes?
What is that which holds us close?
I thought you’d had your fill of me
God knows I had my fill of you
Yet you walk into my coffee shop
Just as if you were meaning to
Your lips open and say hello
My hand tightens on my coffee cup
And I give some blithe rejoinder
That my mind blankly summons up
But if you look into my eyes, my darling
You may just notice a shade of fear
I don’t know if I can take this
I don’t know, I truly don’t, my dear.
And so our words do dance in tandem
And so our eyes do dance uncertain
While my heart begins to tremble
Oh love, no need to dissemble
Remember those sweet days of autumn?
When we talked all day
And yes danced all night
And you wore that plaid shirt just for me?
I remember, oh I remember
I wish I don’t.
So now my thoughts are wandering
Yeah my heart is pondering
And I’m truly wondering
What is that which binds us?
What is that which keeps us close?
What is that which twines our dreamscapes?
What is that which holds us close?
Don’t think I don’t still love you, my darling
Don’t think I don’t still miss your sunny smile,
Yet now I just can’t talk and be all normal.
Someday, maybe, but for now,
Farewell.
Tennis Court
Softly drooping willow fronds and
lonely little gosling feathers
and a concrete bench perches
upon the brink.
Singing these songs, we wait
for a silence to break
all these words tumbling over
each other
ceaselessly.
You can say you’re sorry
and that you love me and
that everything will be all right
and I know that you’re not quite wrong
but you’re not
quite right.
So keep singing these songs
and we’ll wait
for a silence to break
all these words tumbling over
like the tapping
on our phones.
You can grab your coffee cup
and lean forward on your elbows
in that special way you do for me
and I know that you’re not quite wrong
but you’re not
quite right.
And yeah be singing those songs
and we’ll wait
for a silence to break
all these words tumbling over
in sync
like these beating hearts.
You can put your book down
and cry your tears and my honey
I know it hurts I know
and I know that you’re not quite wrong
and you’re not
quite right.
It’s alright.
It’s alright.
There’s a cold bench
somewhere
sitting atop a brink
somewhere
and goslings under willow trees
somewhere
and it’s alright.
It’s alright.
To Boldly Go
I haven’t written anything proper in a while…so I hope you don’t mind this extremely random and most weird short story.
Her eyes rested longingly on that last lonely crepe. It was sitting oh so daintily on the faux silver platter, it was adorned with the perfect amount of powdered sugar and it called her name. True, it had been sitting there for a few hours, so it surely would taste of stale flour and dried out berries, but she didn’t care. Her breakfast had been a sad half of a grapefruit. Not even the better half. She almost felt tempted to just grab the crepe and stuff it in her mouth, but then…then she’d get yelled at by the makeup artist and the director and Tom and…it just wouldn’t be worth it. Anna sighed. Sometimes being a movie star just wasn’t worth it. This was one of those times.
Of course, being a star had its perks. She didn’t have to do her own makeup, for one thing. Her outer face sat pristine, carefully plastered onto what she thought of as her “Saturday night” face. Saturday night, of course – being the only night she ever had to herself anymore. This latest shoot was a brutal, six days a week, fourteen hours a day. Saturdays were nominally off-days, but they’d been working those lately too. She still made sure to excuse herself early and make her way to her condo.
And then, for at least a few hours, she curled up in bed with a cup of cocoa, read her current fantasy novel and pretended she was a normal person. Her condo was her last remaining stronghold against the outside world. Her agent wasn’t even allowed in. Her condo was small by her peers’ standards, but it was hers. It protected her from the schemes of the paparazzi and the bloids. It sat in Los Angeles, polluted and tarnished by the city air. Yet it was hers. Sometimes she would look at her face in the mirror and wonder what others saw in her. She saw a woman that looked increasingly dirty and stretched. She’d wash her face again and again, trying to uncover the small girl that used to peer at her out of the mirror’s depths. Where did she go?
When Anna was five, she had wanted to be an astronaut, traveling to the farthest reaches of space. Her life goal was to be the first person on Mars. This was back in the days when mankind still explored space and sent out probes every few months. Nowadays, no country bothered spending money on space exploration, deeming it an “extravagant and wasteful proposition”, as the prime minister of Scotland had said in his latest rant on the floor of the UN.
Once though, Anna had dreamed of traveling in space. She had imagined braving the silent void, traveling through the vast reaches of space. And now she sat on a set in Los Angeles, filming yet another ponderous period piece. Surrounded by loud-mouthed executives and frantic cameramen and causing a mild panic every time she smiled. She was sick of it. It paid the bills.
Anna’s eyes darted toward the crepe again. She seriously wanted it. Anna sighed loudly and ran her fingers through her carefully arranged hair. Shoot would be starting soon though – once Tom got out of makeup. How it took him an hour longer to get through makeup, she had no idea…unless it had something to do with his preponderance of wrinkles.
And as her mind thought of the wrinkles on her co-star’s face, she thought back to simpler times, back before she knew what paparazzi and co-concentrators and restraining orders were. Back before she had to stare into a co-star’s face and pretend she had chemistry with him. Back when wrinkles signified wormholes in time and space….
She floated through a rusty starship corridor, her suit nearly catching on a protruding gauge. This mission was a simple one, but it would end quickly enough if she tore her suit. As Anna made her way through to the far control pod, she looked back for a second, satisfied she’d not been followed by any…unwanted presence. The silence stretched loud in her ears and she smiled as she thought of what her father would say if he could see her now. He had always told her that she’d amount to nothing more than a shiny broompusher and yet here she was, a rogue starpilot exploring a derelict freighter a hundred light years from Earth. Not too bad for a farm girl from Iowa.
Anna pushed open the last door that sat between her and the cockpit. It swung heavily, hindered by the rust that had accumulated over the centuries. And then…she forgot about the door and the rust and she forgot to think much of anything at all. The ship’s control lights were ominously lit, not dull and dead as they should have been. And there were words swift scrolling across the main console in a far-ancient language. She was not alone on this ship after all. There was an intelligence with her. A machine intelligence. She was not alone. The lights blinked at her in a mildly threatening fashion, and then her eyes glanced more closely at the computer screen. The script had changed to a more familiar one.
WHO ARE YOU TO DISTURB?
Anna reluctantly touched her fingers to the dust stained keyboard and tapped in almost-forgotten patterns.
I COME IN PEACE. I COME TO EXPLORE. I COME TO LEARN. I COME TO SEE.
YOU ARE HUMAN. YOU ARE NOT WELCOME.
I COME ALONE. I MEAN NO HARM. I COME TO SEE.
The lights of the console whirred in an almost hesitant fashion, as if the machine mind was thinking, its mind tracing long unused pathways in its circuits. New words finally flashed upon the console, slowly.
THEN SEE.
The ship began a gentle yaw to her left, showing her another portion of star studded space through the cockpit view screen. And there was a flash. Anna blinked. The sky was still full of stars. Yet, she had never seen such patterns. Before her mind could comprehend the fact that she’d traveled a thousand thousand light years in a millisecond, before it became clear that she was now stranded in deep space with a likely hostile machine intelligence as her only companion…before all that, she brought her hand up to her mouth and gasped. Stars wheeled across the sky in front of her, galaxies pinwheeling in front of her eyes. Stardust filled the void. Space was not empty here, it was heaving, full of life and beauty. Anna struggled to understand. Stars painted the canopy of space as if strewn there by a master painter. Nebulas arrayed themselves in elegant rows and began dancing to the song of the stars of heaven. Anna did not understand. There was so much beauty. Why? Anna put her hand down on the rusty computer console and sighed in longing and awe.
And then the sky crackled, softly.
“Let’s go, people!”
Anna jerked upright. Had she been…dreaming? Tom was striding toward the columned area they were scheduled to shoot their first scene, a flirty rendezvous of some sort, Anna remembered. Anna sighed. What had been in her dream? It had been…beautiful.
“We’re on a schedule,” that annoying voice barked. Carefully, Anna rose from her chair and walked towards the camera strewn pavement.
Anna set her face in the same mask that had graced a thousand magazine covers and smiled a gorgeous pink-lipped smile, casting one more look at the lonesome crepe.
Beatrice
Light of day is fading fast and
night is cold and wan
and the moon
smiles sheepishly.
Yet – bubbling vegetable stew
and soft flickering candles
and a glass of wine upon the table.
Song of day is soaring forth and
night is warm and full
and the girl
blushes radiantly.
Smoldering
A riot of watercolors
and tapestry of tears,
a whispering of smooth jazz and
a slow dance of the years.
A subtle raising of eyebrows,
and dizzy sparkling eyes,
a conversation of laughter
and a slow dance of sighs.
Sitting under maple trees
in lush autumn and
drinking tea with
purest honey and
feeling the sweet caress of wind off the sea and watching clouds dissolve in unprovoked giggles amid the rain falling from hooded eyes of
the storm
and feeling the
warm blush from
sun unveiling and
watching the stars
write a new symphony.
A soulful lilting of trumpets,
violins sing that tune,
two hands now clasped lovingly and
slow dance under the moon.
Joyful
And now – I sit here awaiting my dinner to come to its completion. Spaghetti sauce(with onions, peppers, sausage…) merrily bubbling away on the stove and with the aroma wafting through the apartment…it’s feeling like dinnertime. Thought that while I wait for the sauce and sausage flavours to marry, I could write a few words here. Not much to say of note, really. Had a nice time at church this morning(Pastor Wayne finished up 2 Timothy – such a great book!) and then afterwards went out with friends for a BBQ lunch where I enjoyed a brisket sandwich with potato salad. Only in Texas.
This afternoon, got a bunch of random things done around the flat – yet still made time for my quiet time on the couch with my coffee, etc. Finally I decided to make dinner(even though still being a bit full from lunch!) to the lovely sounds of Beethoven on my TV(my favorite part of this TV I think – I can connect to youtube through it and play any kind of music I want for ambiance. My TV speakers are *far* superior to this old laptop’s speakers and it’s very nice hearing the music throughout my place).
With all that said, I do want to mention something briefly that I’m not sure I’ve said before – I’ve been planning my grand return to Europe for a while now…and so this week, on Thursday, I fly out! I’m going to first arrive in Budapest and pop up to Miskolc for the weekend…for Anna’s wedding. Yes, dear Anna is getting married – oh joy of joys! And so I’ll be there to celebrate with her and her family and friends. It will indeed be awesome to see her and her family again – been a while since I’ve seen any of them! Me and Noemi have been keeping in touch fairly well – and now we finally get to chat in person! (So much better, eh?) And of course..Steven will be at the wedding too. So – a true and most excellent reunion will be had. God is good. Always.
And of course, once I leave Hungary a week Monday, where will I end up? Aberdeen of course. A week in Scotland with my dearest friends awaits. I’m not going to detail my itinerary…but it will be most glorious. And I cannot wait. God is good and His lovingkindness is everlasting. Always. Always.
Now as Beethoven’s ninth comes to its climax, I think it is a good time for me to get my dinner. Peace, my friends – have a most lovely Sunday evening.
Changes
Before I eat my dinner this fine Wednesday evening, just thought I’d mention something of note.
A few days ago(July 21st, to be exact!), I hit my “10 Year LJ Anniversary”. Which, admittedly, isn’t that big of a deal…but it made me think. Ten years that I’ve written my thoughts in this crazy medium of an online journal. I don’t know how many people have read my words over the years, but it matters not. For me at least, writing these words helps me to express emotions that otherwise would whirl and surge within. And reading back over the years’ worth of my random writings encourages me. I read back through old entries every now and again and I never cease to be blessed as I realize how God has guided me through every year of my life. I used to be pretty immature back in the day(and yes, I’m sure that years from now I’ll look back to this entry and feel exactly the same way about now!). I’ve been through many adventures and survived many trials. I’ve graduated from high school. Experienced the crazy life that is college. I’ve graduated from college with an actual degree! I’ve started my first real job. I’ve lived in Scotland for three years. I’ve moved back to America. I’ve known and been known by so many dear dear friends. I have been blessed much. I wouldn’t mind one day writing a proper look back over the years, but for now, I just sit here on my couch in Texas and ponder the goodness of my Lord and my God.
And I feel too many more words than this would just be superfluous rambling, so I shall cease.
Tilted
Good evening! I don’t usually post my handwritten poems, but well. In a rare pensive yet sharing mood and so here you go. Tread soft and listen close. And have a most lovely night, my dear friends. Always.
Haunting cries
the star,
echoing the song
of a final
wistful soul.
Upon the withered
tree
a fruit hangs
waiting
for a drop
of rain.
And near atop
the moor
a boy runs his hand
across the thistles
wild
and aching with
the beauty all,
he
haunting cries.