Broken

Searching for that connection.
Where is he? She? It?
Where or who is God,
When I am here, in this broken

Body, groveling before the pain
Of existence, desperate for some
Type of relief, some release
From the slavery of my body?

My heart aches. My soul cries out
For mercy, but where is my God?
Where is that freedom, that grace,
That hope, that love, that I once knew?

Where is my identity in Christ?
Where is my savior?
All I know right now is suffering.
Is that you, Lord?

Am I meeting you where you are,
Where you were on that cross?
And if so, what will be the victory?
What great battle is going on?

Is my soul the battleground?
Is my heart the prize?
Is this what it takes to bring me
Back into your fold?

To break me, mold me,
Shape me into something beautiful?
But I have been here before.
I have been broken.

Must I be continually broken
In pain and suffering?
What are you trying to teach me?
And where are you taking me now?

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Digging for Truth

Deep down, I dig to the bottom.
What lies in this hidden depth?
Fear, grief, rage, confusion…
It rocks my reason, clouds my vision.

But what is the answer?
Where is the road out of this darkened wood?
Is it faith? Trust? Logic? Courage? Peace?
Is Love the answer? Where will it take me?

Right now everything is scary.
I feel caught in a cage,
In chains, buried deep underneath
Miles of ground, isolated by time,

Place, and no relationships that bring
Relief, connection, revelation, peace.
Anxiety rules the roost, it conquers all.
Fear is my father, abandonment is my mother.

Rage is my brother, grief is my sister.
This is my family. My friends are shadows,
Ghosts in a mist that only evaporate in my
Hands when I reach out to hold their hands.

I am lost in my mirrors, erroring in my program,
Nothing makes sense, nothing works.
What is the truth? Who is my savior?
From where does my salvation come?

Daring to Dream Again

Jumping in, swimming through, climbing up.
The journey continues, the effort is never done.
The edges come and go, the valleys grow lower,
But the mountain tops promise greater visions.

Oh, to be at the mountain top, to feel the wind,
The look down on the struggle, to look back at
The despair, to consider the overcoming of it all.
To be there, and not here, is my desire.

I look up into the mystical sky above my mind,
It stirs my heart in wonder, to dare to dream again!
To open myself to what is next, not in dread,
But in hope, in excitement, in aspiration and ambition.

To try again, to strive, to seek another endeavor,
To challenge oneself, again and again, that is what
Life is all about: growth, relationship, victory!
Oh, to be victorious once again! To be at peace!

Gargoyle

Desperately seeking freedom
From a wretched thing, a scowling,
Grey, hairy, saber-toothed gargoyle
Spirit, waiting in the wings.

To escape, to unlock the door of this
Stifling, suffocating, claustrophobic
Coffin of an existence, in despair,
In loathing, in terror, waiting for

The next moment to pass by,
Wondering simply how I can bear
Another second in this mind, this
Twisted mind, this gifted, but tainted

Mind, with its chemical imbalances,
Its phantoms of the past, rearing their
Ugly heads and screaming through the
Halls of my soul, stalking my every thought,

Taking notes, taking tallies, making plans,
Growing stronger every day, feeding on my
Nightmares, breaking through my every
Conscious thought and feeling, a parasite

That thrives in my body as a clock
Thrives on time, counting, heaping
More and more moments upon each
Other, burying myself beneath it.

Haunted

Inside out, the guts roam free.
The terrible truth of insanity.
Sex, power and money can’t
Match the sour in this stomach.

Rhythm claimed, silence conquered,
Routine found, resurrected again.
Sleep deprived, tottering nerves,
On the edge again and again.

Living a truth my body can’t stand,
Taking a dose of reality a day.
On the level, in the zone,
Out of hell, and right back in!

Mange of cruelty, sty of freedom,
Ebbing slowly toward the center,
Trudging through the abandonment
Of a lost soul, a broken heart, a death.

Imagine the pain, you’re there, I’m here.
Countered the plane of twisted confusion.
Day to day, the grind tears through me,
The tears don’t come, but they stain all the same.

Solace

crossing quotes into the desert of ambition and sensory overload,
acheing for a truth that resonates in the soul, mind and heart.
staying mellow is my goal for the moment, a steep climb from
where I stand, in the valley of mixed episodes of manic-depression.

chaos rules inside my brain, echoes of cries from down deep,
swooping and grapping, the hands of terror and excitement,
follow my every move, invade my every thought and emotion.
the journey is arduous, the provisions are few, a pill here, a pill there.

thank god for insurance, thank god I still have a job, thank god for
my wife, my family, my friends, my doctors, my counselors.
without a support system, I would be a ship lost in a sea full of
tempests and monsters, with no anchor, and no shore to sail to.

sometimes the whirlpools catch me in their spin, but I sail on,
and I break free, eventually, sometimes pirates attack, even
come aboard and tease my sanity with rape and pillage of my
stability and quietude. There is no peace in the storm.

But mirages sometimes turn out to be islands,
And a break comes with a smile and a helping hand,
A generous soul steps in to consider someone else’s woes,
my woes, my heart, my feelings, my thoughts.

Yes, there is a calm to the storm,
And an eye at the center of every hurricane.
I find solace somewhere, in some face full of concern,
in a suggestion that actually helps, a practical, earthly wisdom.

The Ultimate Questions

“Slam!” your head goes to the wall,
The barrier between you and the ultimate
Fulfillment, the meaning of existence,
Your existence, and the purpose of your life.

You can’t see through, you can’t see in,
The truth, the passageway, the gateway
To your salvation, not of your soul only,
But of your earthly, very human, life,

The body you breathe with,
The heart you feel with,
Desire with, yearn with,
The mind you reason with,

And yes, also the soul that gives
You life, the spark of genius
Imprinted on all of you,
That makes you, you,

That fire, that passion, that inspiration
And identity that tells you that “Hey,
I am me, I am the person who lives
In this body, feels with these emotions,

Exists, strives, fights, enjoys, suffers,
Struggles, connects, rejects, hurts,
And yes, also senses the earth,
Other creatures, other “me’s” all around.

“I am me, who is different from anyone,
Or anything else on this planet, in this
Galaxy, in this universe, or any other universe.”
“But,” you hesitate, “Who am I?”

That is the question that follows you
Every day of your life,
Keeps you up at night,
Haunts you, every step you take,

In every action, every reaction,
Every experience, with every feeling,
Every vision, every nightmare,
Every dream, every desire.

So, what is the answer?
And where, from who, or what,
Can it be found?
It would be nice to say,

All your questions can be answered,
All your doubts relieved, all your yearnings met
With a soothing, comforting
Affirmation of solace and contentment.

From this person, in this century,
At this place, in these words,
You may find truth,
Truth about yourself,

And truth in relation to everything
Else in your life, your experiences,
Your thoughts, your feelings,
Your hurts, your rage, your suffering.

In this religion, the “eternal truth”
Of all of existence is answered.
In this philosophy, the everlasting answer
To all questions is found.

But, is there really any place,
Any person, any time,
That holds the ultimate answer
To the ultimate question?

If there is, then why do members
Of the human race go on dying,
Suffering, doubting, scheming,
Yearning, hurting, losing, killing,

Wasting away into nothing,
From dust to dust,
What meaning is there in life?
What truth can be found in the end?

And if that truth can be found,
Why has it not redeemed the earth
And the heavens, the men and women,
The innocent creatures, and all the rest,

Of the earth? Why do we all continue
To search, to strive, to yearn to escape
This earthly existence, to find, in some
Other dimension, a better life,

Or simply, a release from this plane,
This prison that is being human?
Why do we go on searching?
And when will it all end?

Rumbling

Bling, blang, stop, ching, wing it
Stop fighting so I can slip through,
Please I don’t care about that, just
A bit of slack to go with my treats

Watch, witches will wail over roof
Tops at midnight like clocks in a
Metro town don’t leave don’t cleave
See it real see it true can’t be it me

Wander around the sea and the band
The noise and the hand of something
So ridiculously crazy and comfy if you
Go for that kind of thing, do you?

I’m not one for licking ticks but some
Times people prefer to take trips all
Over continents and things for some
Dastardly reason got me really how so

I don’t know just sayin’ that’s all where
To you get your joy I find it in strange
Places in simple things on quiet blinks
In comfortable sinks and pillows think

a gift

surfing the spam of life is like coming to the realization
that it’s all nothing important, just noise in my ear,
just distraction, just hidden agendas and dogmatic
mumbo jumbo. But does it really mean anything to
me personally. No, I don’t think so. Can I relate to it?

Of course not. It’s not within my paradigm, not my m.o.
I don’t see the world, myself, God, other people the way
that you do, and my values are different, as are my likes
and dislikes. The lens I see through is tainted by many
experiences, some worth the trouble, and some a tragedy.

And some actually are good, they lift me up, bring me to
a higher plane of existence, not necessarily closer to God,
although that is possible, but into a new self-awareness
and appreciation for life and how I interpret it. I see with
new lenses when I am gifted by another person, especially

when it is a gift that I did not merit or deserve. I was not
ambitious to claim it, but in fact it was a surprise. That is
how true gifts are: they are not expected nor asked for.
They come from another dimension inside someone else’s
head who is thinking or feeling on a totally different plane.

And all of a sudden, there it is, in all its glory. Some might
say grace happens, some might say shit happens, and they
both might mean the same thing about the same experience
or gift. Just because it is a gift, even a good gift, doesn’t
mean it will be appreciated, and especially not reciprocated.

The true gift has no expectations, there are no strings attached,
there is nothing owed, no tally of debt or favors, nothing counted.
It is all descended from an invisible cloud, which is why when so
many people receive a real gift, surrounded by all its genuine
mystery, they commonly ascribe it to a god or God. Because it

is a miracle, pure and simple. It is not the way of nature, of the
survival of the fittest, but given unconditionally, for no reason but
one: love. Love is such a mysterious thing, it comes in all sizes,
shapes, shades and colors. It comes from all directions, at all levels,
in all types of relationships. But it is not common. Definitely not.

Love is so foreign to most of us that when it happens we are filled
with disbelief and denial, rejecting the simple reality of the thing
in favor of some mysterious supernnatural power, as if only a
supernatural being has the capacity, the strength, the wisdom,
the knowledge, the power, the generosity…the grace to give it.

Or, we ascribe it to chance, which totally discredits and demeans
the value of the gift and the standing of the giver, as well as the
relationship between those receiving and those giving. That is the
truth of an every day tragedy, but the reality of gifts. They are
unrecognized, unappreciated, taken for granted, and denied, simply
for lack of trust.

Rules, Rules, Rules

Support–we all need it, crave it,
Loooooong for it, constantly,
In this world of struggling souls,
Empty and full of meaninglessness.

But how, and where?
What do we do when we’ve been shut out?
When we’ve been rejected by tradition,
or regulation, or discipline?

I once worked as a instructional assistant
For a local alternative high school.
I was a great tutor, mentor and
instructional assistant, for the most part.

Only one problem–I had no concept of
Following the rules that I never had to deal
with growing up, that were never an issue for me.
Rules that have been enacted because of “concern”

By parent organizations, teacher conferences,
principals and assistant principals, probably
just trying to keep order in the chaos of their
crazy job, but which impinge on the freedoms

of everyone around them: students, teachers,
parents and even themselves.
Rules, rules and more rules.
And the more rules that get enacted,

The more discipline it takes
to enforce those rules–blech!
I was never a disciplinarian.
You have to really, really get under

my skin to make me even care,
let alone say something,
and you have to drive me insane to
make me actually do something.

in today’s school systems,
this is not acceptable.
for the most part,
you are a babysitter first and foremost.

if you can squeeze in a little bit of
learning around that, more power to ya,
but I say all those crazy rules can many
times hold students, and teachers, back.