The world in Comparison

Would your story be published?

2010-05-06T19:08:00.000-07:00

The more time I have and the more quietness I get I'm almost forced into this corner of my life that makes me think and reflect on everything over and over.
The thing that keeps getting to me is this thought "If there was to be a second Bible, would my story be great enough to be put in there?"
Now, I'm not saying there is going to be one, for the Bible we have is here to last this whole life- I'm just asking myself if what I'm doing now would be something God would want to teach others about. Would I be the beggar on the steps of the synagogue, get healed and praise God for the rest of my days (hypathetically)? Or would I be used as a parable to teach how to not be, like the seeds growing among weeds?
Its hard for a lot of people, even me, to comprehend that every story can relate in a way. Its our guide, its our light.
Recently, i read the book of Revalations in all its wonder and majesticness. It's so crazy to think that that stuff will occur on the very ground we walk on. For me, since we don't know when all this is gonna go down, its hard to me to pin point what story I could be. It scares me, because I dont know how to prepare the rest of my life. Do I just drop everything to get prepared for the coming of these events to occur soon? Screw college, lets get the book of Revalations going!

If my story was in the Bible, I could only hope that it would be that I conquered my own weaknesses and sins through Jesus Christ. I pray that every day I'll grow stronger.

How it goes.

2009-10-26T07:24:00.000-07:00

God...I why did you put me in this place? I thought I was your daughter. I thought I was something you loved and held dear.

You are my daughter and I will forever love you, you have wandered off, come back to me.

But i dont understand why you put me in these places, these dirty grity places. I need you to help me get out...

All you have to do is ask, and I am there.

These walls are getting too high. And the water keeps rising. I don't want to grab your hand, it seems too high for me to grab on to. I can't jump that high. The waters rising, I need to climb my way out.

The walls arn't climbable, the nooks and cracks you see are empty and brittle; you'll fall down further than you are now.

I have a grip. I can do this my way.

On your own you will fail.

I have friends that can help me, their rope seem just strong enough to pull me out.

Their rope is temporary. My hand is forever.

Oh Lord...i thought they would help me, but they betrayed me and pushed me back in. I don't want this. Why arn't you listening?

I have never left you.

You weren't here so I had no choice but to go with them.

I am here. I have always been here. Come to me my child.

Lord...I can't go to you. I am a mess and I am left cripple. My legs are broken; now I know I can never jump to reach your hand. I am not good enough.

Nothing you can do can break my love for you, you are still my child and I am still God.

Where are you? I can't see..

Ask for me.

God please..help me.

I am craddled in His arms in an instant and carried to a safe place. His love washes me clean and slowly I heal from my wounds and broken bones. The choices we think are good can lead somewhere so far off. He is always there for me. Always. I'm so blind to what is really happening to me most of the time. As a people...we are selfish and as christians sometimes we think our way is the right way. The only way to fix me is God.

Giving in to the Wants of the World

2009-01-23T09:34:00.000-08:00

So, before you read this, let me just say I'm strangely proud of this very short essay. It started off as a rant, but became something else. It will be published in a book full of other peoples work this spring, i believe; still i cant understand how it got accepted, nevertheless less...i am proud.

* * *
I remember the luxury I had when my mother made my own lunches
I felt like she was encouraging me to focus on the more important things in life, than the small pestering things such as lunch making.
The delectable roast beef sandwiches would hug my stomach in complete and total comfort.
I would have nothing else but the same sandwich every day.
My taste buds were simple and happy, they never once complained, with the exception of onions.
But now, oh how I long for the simplicity of my once simple tongue.
Now it is found corrupt among the many different foods out in this evil world.
They have grown to love other things, other tastes, sweet and sour.
Sour indeed. Like a conspicuous lover that roams the busy late night streets, looking for someone new every night.
If only there was a cure, a certain medicine to help my promiscuous tongue.
It all started with the sugar sweetness of candy. Once my tongue fell upon the sugar powdered donuts, candy-coated cereals and chocolate covered peanuts, my mouth was forever changed.
Depression came over my figure from the bitter choices I made in the past.
Curse you, tempting sugar cravings!
I can’t go back to how things were, no, I have no dignity left.
But, alas, I will not give in completely. I still have some self control in this life, I will conquer this or I will die by the doing of my tongue.

Politics and Their Endless Conniving Words

2008-11-26T09:49:00.001-08:00

Wiring circuits filling the walls

the occasional shock stings my arms with each twitch i give into

I've been under for what feels like weeks

my skin, i cant feel

my eyes can only roam under the thin layer of skin that cover them

my ears never stop their ringing

i want to answer it by closing them with my hands

but my arms stay stuck to the table

my skin tears at every try to move them

im held down by straps of plastic, tight

so tight around my waist and chest

how do they think they can keep me alive?

If only my will power could determine whether i could die or not

but wishful thinking will get me no where

It's useless

I'm useless

am i some sort of test?

a victim of an experiment?

my brain is the only thing that is working on its own

i can think all i want, but I'm not going anywhere

and here is where i'll stay

I wish...

2008-11-02T07:24:00.000-08:00

I wish to be deaf.
I wouldn't have to worry about what others say, i wouldn't understand what listening means, nor would i care. Because even though things in this life are worth listening to, such as the gentle strum of a guitar or the wind brushing through a tree, it can be ruined, destroyed by the voices of men. Careless remarks, meaningless words that catches the ear on fire. I want to run around and scream when I'm being burned, but i just take it in and ignore the smell of burnt flesh. It doesn't hurt that much from an enemy, compared to a friend. Then some, i call my friends; but the never answered question of that, lingers and rots.
I wish to be blind.
So i couldn't see their judgmental faces. Those eyes that scan through your being and curse you for being you. I would give up my view of the ocean, skies and full bloomed flowers; not to share a glance with them.
I tried to be like them. Fake. Live by what they think is right.
But in realization i can't. I wish not to be hypercritical, and yet now i am.
Perhaps all this wanting of mine makes me just like them.
Is this not what they hurt for? For acceptance among their own kind? To push others down as their footstools so they could take a higher stand.
More than anything...
I wish to be their opposite.

Smile

2008-08-26T13:00:00.000-07:00

Smile.

It shows that you care.

2008-07-30T18:15:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, its okay to be sad.

Life should be simple.

2008-07-28T16:35:00.000-07:00

Theres way too much going on in our lives.

I wish i could leave it at that. We're all so caught up in ourselves.
A net of problems catch us from being able to swim forward and we let that become our world.
Drama is definitely what makes up most of the net sometimes.
Are we really so stupid to let something small hinder us?

Life should be simple. You know?
I think it was suppose to be that way.
God tells us that we shouldn't let the little things bother us, whether its a fight with your parents, or that you won't be able to do this or that, because there really is a purpose in why thats not good for us.
It puts us in a position to only think about ourselves, and did you know that life isn't about that?
Crazy, huh.
No, life was meant to be a simple gift and a friendship with Jesus himself. I sometimes think about how cool it would be if we never tasted sin. How everything would be so different.
Of course i get caught up in this world and all about how my life is going, but i just have to stop and wonder...why can't I be a lot more simple? Forgive and forget. Forget about me for once.
Jesus + me + how He wants to use me = life.
Life should be simple.

2008-07-22T14:39:00.000-07:00

You know I...I never know what to say. When I'm around its all so different, i can see you, hear you.
I'm lost in a world of complete and total excitement, but only on the inside. I don't know if you've changed yet, and i really hope you haven't. Being a Christian makes it all the more hard. I want to be with you, yet i want it to be God's will. I want with all my heart to be submersed into Jesus that my eyes will cloud everything i look at; my vision become different. I want you to fight for me. Through the many chambers of God's love to get to me. For the first time in my life I want to share my faith with someone beside me, something so much more than just a silly relationship built only on feelings. But your my friend, and at times i don't want that to change. I feel so wrapped up in the image of us. And it makes everything stand still. I've heard too much, things i didn't want to hear. But i wanted to know. And i still do. Do you get where I'm at?
I told you...i never know what to say, especially how i feel this way. I feel stuck.
Trust me, if i didn't feel this way, i would be fine! I would feel completely normal without you!
But without you...oh...life would be so dull, now that i think about it. I've never known anyone so similar, yet so different before i knew you.
I told you...I just don't know...what to say. You see, you have my thoughts. Most of them at least.
When i lie awake in bed, when i pray, when i write...
But you see, i wont make a move this time. No, I don't want to screw up.
I thought by now I would change my mind about you. But your still there! Inside my head...
I've asked God to help me forget you if its not right, but that was a while back.
Is it true that I really do like you?
It must be. I can't explain it any further from that.
It does hurt what other people tell me. Yes, i know i'm not that pretty. Not as pretty as she is. No, i'm not that great of a people person as she is. Yes, i know shes the better choice. I love her to death...but is it fair that she gets them all? Can you please wake up and see. That I'm the one that likes you still.
I told you...I'm just not good at knowing what to say.

~~~~~~ I posted this. So you have the right to judge, question, or guess. Just know that you can't assume what an author writes to be about him/her self. ~~~~~~~~~

Distracted.

2008-07-01T18:55:00.000-07:00

First it landed on my outstretched sandy leg. It shimmered in a blue and green iridescent
manner and made its awkward way up to my bare stomach. I shook it off without a thought and closed my eyes again. I could feel the sweat starting to appear on my forehead and above my lip. I pulled my hat lower over my eyes to block out the unwanted sun overhead. A loud shriek caused my left eye to open and locate its source. Two little children, one with an overuse of floaties strapped on his body and the other wearing the definition of pink, throwing sand at each other in enjoyment. It'll be turned into something ugly once one gets sand in the other's mouth or eye. Won't be long now.
A seagull lands not too far from my chair. A moment later another joins in the knowledge of something edible being near. Why can't they be like other birds? They wait around for humans to throw them crap. While normal birds go and find their own food. I wonder why I never see a nest near by, containing seagull eggs or baby seagulls.
My mind gives up the thought as my eyes divert to the subtle ocean. Waves follow waves like new blankets being stretched out over a warm bed, but instead roll back in. People bob up and down enjoying the ride, while some dive under; trying to miss the undertow.
A loud scream sounds from the odd two kids.
Mister floaty boy runs back to his mom, followed by his pink sister. And while all this happens the green and blue bug flies back to greet my leg as I try to go back to sleep.

:)

kind of random...

2008-06-28T21:34:00.000-07:00

Like still statues over graves
we do nothing
Each cowers over
afraid to continue their walk
Mocked
we become no better than the mockers
for we don't stand up to them.
Adaptive
we live with them, when we must run
away.
They are the cursed
when we are the better
But for now we let them win

The sun will stop its rising
The moon will become empty and dark
The earth will ignite in flames
Our bodies will gasp for air
The air will be no more
Our souls will die among the dead
If
we choose to sit
Let us rise up from our dusty stools!
And swing at the ever-climbing vines
that hold us back
Alone we can fight, but together we can win
Grab your shields and swords
take your ground
Let the mockers run and flee
for they can not win against the warriors and
The King.

........yep.

Streets

2008-06-04T11:35:00.000-07:00

Both hands dug loosely in your two jean front pockets, the air seems completely clear of the spring pollen. It's brighter today than it has been for awhile.
I love when theres nothing to do and the world can be yours, if only for a moment, as you walk down the busy city streets. A bell sound rings from the door you just passed, as someone walks out of the liqueur store, you keep walking.
The man across the street, standing on newspapers, strums his heart out and sings on the top of his lungs. The music has already gotten to your lips and they form a smile. Not necessarily enjoying the music being played but by the way the man doesn't care who walks in front of him or stops to listen.
His minds only on one thing, giving back what he was given, to the world. His hands never cease strumming and his eyes never seem to look up from the guitar. The old winter hat he wears surprisingly stays on top of his never moving head, banging up and down to the rhythm of his tapping foot. Thankfulness surrounds the little spot at where he stands.
Your feet carry you onward after dropping a few dollars into the open, brown guitar case.

Stores filled with things, things people don't need, line the streets of this city.
Your lungs fill with warm air and you contribute carbon dioxide to the air in return.
Graffiti in many colors in colorful words paint the brick walls you follow. Different cults and gangs mark their territory in the most random of places. It makes you wonder if all they think of their life is just a big game, like monopoly, claiming places with them being a gun player piece.
But once you've reached the end of one brick wall, there, graffiti-ed up the word the world surrounds. It's been there for awhile and is almost hard to see. The white spray paint is barely there, but yet you see it, so clearly.
You take a black sharpie from your left pocket and start tracing, thinking its important, that word we all die for. First the L and then the O, the V was a little more tricky; being on a crease in the brick. And when you finish with the E, you continue to walk down the trash covered streets.

This is the world from ones point of view.