What's in a Game: The continuation

I keep wondering when we'll stop pretending
Waiting for the day to breathe that deep sigh of relief
I keep wondering when we'll step out from behind the fig leaves
Hiding our shame
And stop displacing the blame

It's come the point where it has to be all or nothing
When every half truth brings me so close to justifying
Consequence and regret without a second thought

I keep wondering when we'll stop pretending
Waiting for the day to breathe that deep sigh of relief
I keep wondering when we'll step out from behind the fig leaves
Hiding our shame
And stop displacing the blame of who we are today

I started running, couldn't keep on pretending
When the moment of self-destruct was inches away
Believing I was alone as pride played a two-faced game
How was I to know you were feeling the same?

Sitting in the waiting room
For the news of our consequential doom
Unable to remake the choices of yesterday
A sad moment when all the labels fade away
We stand unoticed admidst the rubble of decay

In the end, the only thing missing was the truth
In the end, the only hope for me and you is the truth

We could just part ways
Revert back to playing games
Call it a new day to start again

A final word before you go
Without you
This flesh and blood is a heap of dry bones
We don't have to be the status quo
We could let love be our new M.O.

I've been wondering when we'll stop pretending
Waiting for the day to breathe that deep sigh of relief
To know things can change
Who we've been isn't the end of all we can be
We can choose grace and starts with the truth

Love can display honesty
No more running away from what we've pretended to be

What's in a game?

I started to write this as a song, but then it became a continuation of the war raging. When I consider the last year, I see great gain and great loss, true regret and true redemtion, concrete conviction and considerable doubt. The battle is far from over- daily I question if there will ever be a moment of complete liberty, if I will have the courage to risk my pride for the sake of a new life. I want to ask who is willing to take on the rubble and build it up again. It's like I've been hooked to an IV, constantly dripping, numbing the pain, yet displacing the strength and confidence of each whole member of my body. I am desperate to be heard, yet I have lost expectation, anticipation, of anyone taking notice. Even as I write, there is a half smile at the thought that only a few people may read this, and I very well will be one of them. Well, anyways, no sad faces. Here is the continuation, a submersion surrendered to peace enveloped by the ocean floor, hands raised in the hope of salvation, though the body may fail.

to be continued...

Confessions: Chapter 1

I wrote this a few months ago during a service at church... it is a prayer of depravity and desperation, the deep discontent of a prodigal who has been too long away from home to remember... that it was her who choose to leave and seek her own path-NL

Sing the songs, say the simple prayer
Stand and say "amen" in the conditioned air
How do i mean it from my heart
When sometimes i don't feel a thing
How intense is my "i love you"
When sacrifice is trumped by complaceny
Once my love was pure, my hopes ran high
I was unabashed to say, "you will never be denied"
Now, I stand with believers in a room resounding with praise
I stand as I always have, honoring Your name
Yet my mind wanders to the question lingering: How much longer will I trust, a God who hides his face from me?
What does it take to leave this place of pomp and circumstance
To corridors unseen, where only servants pass?
I've grown tired of waiting in the splendor of your golden halls
Give me rags for riches, let me be the least of all
I've been told I'm like a daughter, by children who do not speak
Save my heart from slaughter; refrain from flatter with words you do not mean
I will not crave your praise, when mine has been so empty
I will not ask for your embrace; I will not hide my jealousy
Here is my confession, my imperfections and vulnerability
Here is my heart, hope deferred, faith unseen

Thirst

This one has been out for a bit, but i wanted to post it on my official site.



Thirst
The illusion that slowly sets
The canopy of shade and water to cool my breath
The mirage of happy lives and a distant place
Fair skin untouched by dust and disgrace
Thirst
A deadness grows to fill the emptiness
The passionate heart dulls to dismantled unrest
Thirst
The desire to attain panics the reason that waits
While parched lips toast the vile of poison
Unaware of how deep the lie permeates
Darkest color bleeds into the cool of night
Desperation to quench impeaches the fatigue
Allowing misery to survive
In the end
The liquid, quick and cool to revive
Triumphs over the danger of death and life

some things do not change

Manipulative
Offering no nurture
Torn between love and despise
Her needs outweigh her children's
Encouragement used only to bribe
Rejection

random short stories: part 1

Sometimes I randomly write things, with no preemptive thought or motive. The ideas can be influenced by books I've recently read, or a particularly strong case of ADD that needs to be worked out. Either way, this piece is a detour of descriptions that I've recently created...


She was not a structure of steel and brick, though it had been her adamant profession for many years. He discovered not a solid, fortified structure, but instead course, packed earth, devoid of all the pleasantness of a nurtured plot of land.

Somewhere under all the thick, cumbersome layers, he was willing to believe was a reservoir rich enough to make anyone sweet, but he was stubborn as the ground she was made of, and not a single bead of sweat was worth fighting against her.

Jumping Through Hoops

It's what we do
Saying the obvious, expected things
Avoiding the common threads of conversation we are bound by

It's what we do
Jumping through hoops like trained circus animals
Performing for the audiance, as captivated by our performance
As we are by our chains

What would happen if the big top was lifted
If the greatest show on earth was interrupted by a storm of freedom
With the wild, untamed lands gaping before us

Would we trust our own instinct
Would we break the spell
Would we welcome the opportunity, the call to live in the environment we were created...

Or would we fear our own strength?

It's what we do