Save the Date

Bound by inhibitions
I sit up and raise my hand
I like the sound of my voice, to often, more than the words
The voiceless, invisible white noises resound
A blur of too many devotion-lacking nights
And whispers reserved, now dead

Yes, it was something you said
That made me want to curl back into that bathroom
Where I'd look out the window, onto that street
Envision walking down that road,
And never looking back

The funny thing about feeling victomed
Is it comes from you, into others
It's like, genetic or something
Whatever, no one cares, poor me
And she says it now because she likes the sound of her voice

Yes, it was something you did
That makes me want to shackle my hands behind my waist
Already enslaved
At least I can say, "I make my own decisions",
And never looking back

love.

I'd rather not build up a single block
If it meant waking up mornings later, sooner than it felt
A breathing person beside me, in the shadow of a tower I built
Flag swaying at its top
With a big red heart
So everyone would know
I was in love

I am in love
And everyday, I fall further
Completely unnecessary is it for someone to come along
Lead me through the Word He gave for everyone
Not two
Every one

Towers fall on either side
I see them come crashing and spring up
Peripheral and right before my eyes
I am in no hurry
For any but He
who gave His life

We answer to the King individually
What we bond so extremely,
However young,
Will be separated
The day we wake up
Finally at home

Ombre

Sometimes I hear something so worshipful
With no words
No big, "let's raise our hands, arms together" moment

Lonely but fully companioned
Cognizant but blissfully unaware
Caught up but grounded by itty goosebumps

Air all a'chill
Frozen, stilled by classical piano
I don't even have it in me to gasp at the drop
Warmed inside, heart held by hands that made us able

Vibrant blue, green to violet
Violent red that turns to rust
Dust to dust
And yet I marvel

"He knows it's scary to be us"
Yes, that is always true
Fragment of joy, however short its time
Is greater than this phrase of mine

Soul raised, lifted higher than my hands can reach
With no words
Such a big, "I can't see my hands, arms" moment

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9XK7y47M7Hk

Secular?

Non-secular:

I will seek You in the morning
And I will learn to walk in Your ways
And step by step You'll lead me
And I will follow You all of my days

Very militaristic. You can almost hear the "left-right-left" of army boots marching as it's chanted out. Disturbing is the 'learn to walk in your ways', which feels very cult-ish, an eerie sort of conformity.

Secular:

But I don't care what they say
I'm in love with you
They try to pull me away
But they don't know the truth
My heart's crippled by the vein
That I keep on closing
You cut me open and I
Keep bleeding
Keep, keep bleeding love

Graphic, real. Heart surgery where a person is forever changed. It almost seems inescapable...more than a choice, a completely new kind of love. A heart attack from brokenness...a healing for freedom.

Non-secular

Crucified
Laid behind a stone
You lived to die
Rejected and alone
Like a rose
Trampled on the ground
You took the fall
And thought of me
Above all

The baffling part about this song is the theme of "me-ness". He thought of ME above ANYONE ELSE. And, who wants to worship a rose trampled on the ground? I guess my point here is...where's the focus? Take Him down from the cross, already. Sure, there needs to be meditation on the sacrifice, but the celebration comes in the "He is risen!"

Secular:

And time goes quicker
Between the two of us
Oh, my love, don't forsake me
Take what the water gave me

Lay me down
Let the only sound
Be the overflow
Pockets full of stones

Florence + the Machine's new song is a poignant example of offering. "Take what the water gave me" is a devastatingly beautiful line, because it is a giving up of something naturally beautiful. This song, to me, is a recognition that even though nature is glorious, it cannot compare to love (AKA God).
Obviously, I'm taking it out of context, and Flo most likely wrote this to a guy (girl?) who was contemplating leaving her. The worshipful resignation of "lay me down, let the only sound be the overflow", although in her context, sexual, paints a beautiful picture of how we should strive to allow God's hand in our own lives.
So raw and powerful, "I only need this sound to survive". I also love the "pockets full of stones", which reminds me of the "my burden is light" verse. I love this song. It's much easier to feel unworthy than to become fired up for giving up...but Flo's song inspires me to NOT take the easy way out.

Fishbowl Monday

I had a fish named Jude
Before
I killed him, accidentally
by not feeding him enough,
Before I starved him.

Jude lived in a fishbowl
And
It was so small.
His whole world was in that fishbowl
The whole breadth of it, everything, all.

"There is a whole big world, out there, Jude!"

He never did hear.
Believed he was the biggest fish in the world
Because in his world
He was.

These days,
Predictable,
thick with bubbly interlinked, understood chatter
About things that never touch the under-blessed, under-dressed.
Nothing, never...
Everything's always blessed.

Makes it difficult to remember
When I was deep in dark too far up
To reach my head over
The lip of the cup

It sounds nice
Dwelling daily in fishbowl days
And, yes, it is.
Sometimes it drags, milky footprints, shaking Wonderbread crumbs from my scalp

I see the vibrancy and angst of my younger self
Writing songs, songs, words scrawled in any empty corner
Colors of rainbows Noah never saw

From behind the pane of window glass
Fogging up the surface
My finger traces, "You'll be fine"

She never will hear
Believes she is the biggest fish in the world
Because in her world
She is.

Another Kind of Always.

There is family.

And then there is the one who held your hand on the cusp of midnight darkness, leaned into you, barely looking up, teary eyed, saying "I have to tell you something."

You didn't know what would be said would be what you'd been dealing with.

There is family.

And then there is a moment.
A moment after quite some time.

Where a person who drifts in and out of your life, who knows the core center of your rotting apple heart, drifts back in with nary a hesitant glance.

There is family.
There is that, always.

But there is another kind of always, the one that keeps you inspired while others belittle.

I don't think I'll ever understand, why I so easily, nonchalantly even, hurt those who've shown me this other kind.

I don't know what compels me to hurt these angel-lead lovers of my life, the very soul of what makes me mine.

I think, just last week, I might have lost one...because.of.my. words..

All I can say is, despite all my culture, I can still be a biotch.

May angels lead you in, wherever you are to arrive.

There is family...
And then there are friends.

Ah, the joys of having a sibling

I sit, centered, cocooned blankets, en masse.
Black hoodied-silence, ponder breathlessly how perfectly you mocked me.
...On our way home before we would leave to pick up the knives that were left to be sharpened...

Ironic metaphor, meta-rivalry, meta-escapist.
I never met a brother quite like you, man.
Punctured through the gauzy film I spread around my head to avoid the nasty words said
By you.

Rollin' like a big shot, not caught, fightin' words all crisscrossed,
X'n through my ears like lead, hot.
And here I thought,
that we were...
friends.

Was it mature that I didn't lash back?

I sit, feel the mist, rise up to meet my eyes, my fist.
I never met a brother quite like you, man.