Sometimes I’m still a kid, the door is shut and it trembles like WWII.
The moon glistens tonight more than ever. And she howls.
Sometimes over forced shut eyes, and blankets over blankets hiding fear,
crippled and lonesome in this broken bed.
And there are monsters in these walls, behind these doors,
words that cut like daggers, and former reflections lost forever.
You’ve made ice castles, and the floors are slippery.
The air is cold and its harder to breath .
But rage is never softly spoken,
no such diplomat has been proven or displayed,
your out to persuade only yourself,
just like the kings before lands, made waste.
Like the bruises on her mid waist.
By noon the compass resets,
i know nothing, i don’t want to know.
I made chambers deeper than you know,
for the both of us. But they did not hide us,
only refracted the detriment through the ceiling.
They would come , those monsters.
they would come at night, in power,
until there was nothing to lay hold off.
Until hearts like stone.

Sometimes I’m still a kid , even with this skin
Even quivering in my sleep.
Even before the night
Even before the crowds
Even before the storm
and the broken jungle.

But even then , I was a man,
and they remain the same.

I Awoke inches from the edge,
calling the sunset forth before dawn.
“the sea, she rages against me”
with the shadow of my eye
tracing a dance encumbered by secrets,
a truth half spoken, is no truth at all,
For only truth knows the road less taken.
You’ll be wise to hang upside down
gazing into lost paradigms hidden
far inside this wood, wet and damp.
Nothing like the one that burned
at the taste of first light, racing fast across
the ocean, desperate.
He does not seek any port in a storm,
but listens to the crying drum,
solemnly facing starboard,
non less despondent.
Befallen within her depths,
This fear is a still calm, not less tormenting.
But the heart grows faint and weary,
heavier than this anchor, and as profound
as the universe folding unto itself.
I don’t want to fight it anymore.
These seas brim with the blood of many sailors,
each as stubborn as the other,
a flesh splitting through the masses of water,
But i hear her words whispered in my mind.
And i see the one who sails across planets,
Unfettered by mid skies or mans gamble.
Like an ever proliferate presence knowing the
beginning and the end, interconnected within Him self.
I’ve tasted no sweeter bitter, not a grain of salt was corrupted.
It was then i knew the music written in my heart,
matching the interstellar notations , stars if you will.
each harnessed by a scale of which no ear perceived or beheld.
In the sound of such silence i knew it would resound relentless
withing the confines of my being.
My eternal being. longed to be fulfilled , met by the reflection of brighter lights,
hiding me in the warmth of her skin , revealing the sea beds, tender and joyful. always loving always kind.
Who is like the sea and where will i find her?
this would bring worlds afar , so close together.
eye to eye. heart to heart. blood to blood.
and a laughter that would flood the earth in redemption
of that other that had destroyed us.



I see color again, even in these depths.


DKOA.

Rattling trees spoke far away,
sung the words you screamed through the undercurrent of your heart.
and there was light far in the horizon, though you doubt your state of living.
Arise little lion, you know you’re in the jungle but don’t know your the king,
Just as your father was and will always remain. 
yes they are, temples made of stone taller that you’ve ever known.
Don’t be so afraid of the depths of this valley,
no one ever said to stick to the grooves of the night,
yet you drift like river tide. and its getting late before the sun.
the comfort that he brings , but you much prefer the moons light.
A borrowed light, used. But even she seeks a truer light.
But I’ve know of a place where mountains melt and become
pastures softer than snow, despite all harbored fear burned a love
through raging stills. Just like the familiar undercurrent was the beating of a drum,
louder and louder though havoc’s of colder fires. and by the time you realized this
never made any sense you’ll understand you have waited for nothing , no where. for the all the wrong reasons. meet the calm still again. & by this time you’ll know lions can swim.

He called forth the lights across my body, long.
painted and drawn and unencumbered
wrapped and entwined and unfiltered.
And remembered a day when a lived far from them.
a voice that called me from the grave,
where it was hard to see through the dirt that
confessed me to be dead and counted by a number
with the worst of names. But i still remember,
seeds that sprung forth from the ground,
a growth spurred on by the light the stars had showered.
And owls making homes and professed to see beyond what i could see.
But in those eyes i saw , not eagle, not lion, not ox, But man, alone.

the grass grew grim with greater shades of grey.
As a boy i never gave up, but saw disfigured shapes in the eyes that
stared into mine through infinite refractions where my soul buried in
a forest of mirrors and worlds that grew deeper. darker.

Inside. Where a man came to meet me. and he made a home.
And in those eyes i saw a spirit, a protector, a might, above all,
a God,wearing my weakness.

Outside. I’m awake again. painted red,  dusting the dirt off my garments,
alive. With the taste of an ocean dried up on lips that pointed north
for the first time , in 7 years.


DKOA.

Regarding: Freedom Writers (film)

Well, I feel selfish . I’ve had this feeling before,
and I’ve never really known what to do with it.
I mean really, all of a sudden I’m reminded of how spoiled i am
In comparison to so many people that are not as privileged,that’s
under playing it. People who suffer far more than we could imagine,
through out the whole lives. Immediately my heart becomes about
wanting to do something, it didn’t matter what, just as long as it wasn’t
me waiting on my ass another day .
But, would it be wise ? should i do something , or am i fine
as i am , trying to walk in Gods will for me.
But if I’m not entirely clear on that,would it hurt
to take initiative? I want to be wise, but i need to do something.
& I need his blessing. Surely his heart is for his people.
I’m not saying they don’t have happiness in they’re lives,
or to even attempt to understand what they go through,
I jut want to help, experience them as people, as friends,
as Gods beloved… and forgotten? tossed to the side, ignored.
I don’t want to be a part of this any longer.

So I encourage anyone that reads this to watch
the film Freedom Writers. & if you feel moved , get on board.
Contact me because i can’t do it alone. And yes,
the film is Hollywood, but really consider what it’s like
to live like they do, because it’s all real.

Thanks all. (: