Tag Archives: music

Poetry: A Mountain with its Eyes Closed

Awaken, sleeping traveler.
Cast aside inertia, enjoy the ricochet
Breathe the world through your eyes,
Admire the way it gives, and God takes away.

What scares you only gets uglier in death.
Which death, you ask, to silent rests,
The spindle’s clouding the seed of reason;
Fears cascading the windows of your soul,

The voice grips you to the overwhelm,
Sound waves slowly inching you off the bed
But you are lying still as a mountain with its eyes closed,
No one sees the blood on the floor or the knives in your head.

The present is the future presupposed
Erasing the grace and retain of old-time religion,
It reminds you of journey and purpose,
All things need to be maintained.

Banish fear, move inside inspired emotion
Scream out loud or just announce your devotion
Be obscene and lack the advised discretion,
Spill out your shame, expose your obsession.

Just move.


Poetry: Hands, Fingers, Tips and Prints

If my fingertips could tell a story,
What in the world would they say?
Would they speak of the woman in yellow?
Would they tell of the night on the train?

She said, “Your fingers, crafty as they are,
Don’t know the smell of the eve of rain.
They haven’t felt the sounds of love,
Yet they move with all that grace.”

I said, “These hands, they are so tired.
The world has only told me,
Of things I must humbly hold,
And of things I must acquire.”

A day is coming soon, though
Where they’ll finally have their say,
They’ll put everything down,
And to the music, they shall sway.

So, she told me of a tune, God wrote with his fingerprints.
“All of creation knows it, and sings it all the time.
It’s a song of sweet surrender and a season to unwind.”

She said, “It’s fine if you don’t recognize
the song creation sings,
But take the time to learn.

You’ll have a full life of time to
teach yourself some things,
Let it be Nature’s turn.”

Poetry: I think because I feel

I think
If time is the infinite
Curving of the universe,
Harmony must be
Where we all immerse.

Stilled and endangered,
Is my heart in God’s song,
Every most important moment,
Each movement growing strong.

I feel
If music ever fails to move us
To a place of unbridled tears,
Our souls will hide from us,
All, but deep and darkest fears.

Prose: The Balancing Act.

Every day I am faced with the same conflict in writing; To be personable and to praise G-d. The tension resides in the fact that I write both to write and be read. One challenge of writing about the spiritual side of Christianity (I don’t associate with the religious side, whatever that means) is you have to bring near-incomprehensible ideas into words. The product of this, as I’ve seen, is often sounding pompous, self-esteemed and “holier than thou.” Most writers, if not all, have a desired and geared towards audience, picked and chosen for them based on their subject field of writing. Stephen King, Dean Koontz, Richard Dawkins, Anne Coulter. When you hear these names, you undoubtedly associate them with a genre of reading material. Problem with me is, I don’t want to be associated with the religion section of the bookstore. Even I don’t relate with most Christian writers and almost none of my favorite books are based on theology. I can’t ever imagine myself writing how-to’s for Christianity. The whole idea sounds absurd and degrading. On the other side of things, I can’t leave G-d out. I wish I could, believe me, I do. But He is ingrained in every fiber of my being. To not praise Him with the things I am most passionate about is to deny, essentially, the very essence of who I am, or who He has made me. When you love someone, you share your whole life with them, not just the parts that are convenient to share.

So, every day it seems, with my back to my bedroom window and my hands hovering in the air over the keyboard, patiently waiting for the words to come, I sit there and wonder how I might forge a connection between the spiritual concepts of G-d and more central, innate concepts. I can’t count the days I’ve been frustrated by the burden of holding both sides of myself in each hand, wishing I could find a way to grasp all of the madness in one giant gonzo fist.

Yesterday afternoon, I was at a friend’s house, watching my favorite Hunter S. Thompson documentary and pondering this idea when a spurt of inspiration came to me. I hopped up from the couch, making erratic hand motions until my fingers found a pen and paper. I wrote for two hours. I wrote until the thoughts weren’t even connected anymore. I wrote until every angle of the original idea had been exhausted. I wrote until the sentences became scribbles I couldn’t be sure were real words anymore. I wrote until my wrist hurt, and then I wrote until it felt like it might have some internal bleeding. I wrote until the only thing that made sense to me anymore was the pen in my hand.

Today, I looked at what I had. It was trash, absolute trash. I hadn’t managed to put my thoughts down effectively, the gap between my brain and my hand had been far too large and elusive. I couldn’t believe the waste it had been. I couldn’t believe the disillusionment I had felt in the process. I let myself down, and there is no greater defeat than that. I post this as a memorial to the idea that I will ever be able to make this connection for myself or for other people. I will simply have to continue on in this limbo, this erratic balancing act of praising G-d whilst simultaneously entertaining the many other facets of existence through every word that proceeds forth into the vast black hole dubbed the internet through my highly incompetent, yet wonderfully made fingertips.

The only peace I find is in prayer and in music. Thank the GRACIOUS LORD ALMIGHTY for music. I leave you with a wonderful Elton John song, originally wrote about and dedicated to Marilyn Monroe, but worldly famous for the re-make he produced for Princess Diana’s funeral… “Candle in the Wind.” For any writers out there, I hope this song inspires you as much as it has inspired the writing of both Hunter S. Thompson and I.

(By the way, that was not a comparison of quality. Just a random fact. I am not simple-minded enough to think any single paragraph I write, ever, might be placed anywhere near the calibur of mere phrases by H.S.T.)

Prose: A Call to Coexist

“There’s battle lines being drawn, nobody’s right if everyone’s wrong.”
– Buffalo Springfield

What appeals to Christian spiritualists is not what appeals to those who understand the life they live and the world around them in the most present and innate terms. Someone who spends their day thinking about the complexities of the Spirit of G-d making manifest in them the fruits of the spirit is not someone who would easily communicate that idea to someone who spends their day thinking about current events in the light of all the world’s chaos. The problem doesn’t lie in their beliefs or lack thereof, but instead, it resides in the absence of understanding and too many existing prejudices of “the other side” to see the context in which the other thinks and exists. Oftentimes, remaining in a state of disconnect results in judging others by disposition instead of seeing them as an individual in a unique and unknown context. This manner of thinking, which characterizes much of western culture, leads to a lack in sympathy and empathy, and an even more dramatic increase in apathy and tension. This pattern is dangerous, and all the great minds in history knew the people divided is a people conquered. So, why is it in a day and age so advanced as ours, we still resort to petty schoolyard mindsets of the ever-present “us” and “them”?

The darkness of the human spirit, and more directly, the American spirit, lies in that we have no qualms in destroying what is unfamiliar to us or that which makes us spiritually uncomfortable. I think we secretly abhor the idea of tolerance, believing that ideas are infectious and that no one need even know about an idea or a belief system that is not central to our own. I see this a lot, not only throughout religious groups, but inside atheist households as well. The key to unity and harmony is simple, so simple, in fact, Paul McCartney had a good handle on it – live and let live. But in order to really ALLOW all people and all beliefs to coexist with each other, we need to understand the individual. We can’t mass market and we can’t mass judge, either. From the religious bigot to the spiritual hippie, there is context there. We need to see people as more than just ideas that we do or don’t find common ground with; We need to see the person behind the ideas. At such a point of outward growth in society, we need to balance that with an inward growth by recognizing that hate and contention is childish, and we need to begin loving one another to allow enough room for everyone to be different. When we don’t, we set ourselves up for another holocaust. So, please, I beg of you, don’t disarm yourselves of love and acceptance – They are our ultimate offense and the strongest defense to allowing history to repeat itself.