Up and Down

A force within, pulled down and up,
Racked my brain, and wreaked havoc
With my heart. My life a shambles,
Holding onto the end of the shipwreck.

Created to be—something—unique.
Sometimes it seems as though I am
A monster, sometimes a master,
Most of the time something in between.

At the mercy of my emotions,
A manic-depressive collage,
Created and creating,
Something from it all.

And somewhere in there,
A mind struggles to make sense
Of the ups and downs,
Finding redemptive meaning in it.

Sometimes I wonder,
Is it possible?

To Have Too Much

Drum, goes the beat, on my heart.
It echoes through my body,
And my soul cries out its anthem,
“To bed! To bed! One more time,”

It says. To freedom from toil,
To leisure, to escape from suffering.
And my head chimes in,
“Bills, bills, bills, remember them.”

Oh, how they haunt me,
Follow me everywhere.
I slave at my workplace
To pay my bills,

I panic at the grocery,
Hoping for a miracle
When I get to the register
To pay for this cart of wants

And needs, piled high in
Revery, oh to have, to get,
To be, to escape, to luxury,
Oh, to be there, just once!


Our world is a world of contradiction. Everyone, no matter what they espouse to believe, contradicts their beliefs in their thoughts, words or actions at some time in their lives. Anyone who claims otherwise is not being honest with themselves or others. Skeptics have a term for this: hypocrisy. And skeptics use this term like a silver bullet to try to shoot down anyone who tries to be a better person, influence others in a positive way, or make this a better world in general.

Even though I don’t like everything about the Christian religion, the history of the universal church, or even God himself (or herself), I do claim to be a Christian. To some, the fact that I can claim to be a Christian, yet criticize all parts of Christianity, leads them to conclude that I am a hypocrite. Or the fact that I do things that are not according to the Christian faith, leads them to the same conclusion.

The funny thing is, it is because I am a Christian that I am held to this high standard. This is understandable, since Christians do strive to be better people, and do try to help others improve their lives, but it is not realistic. Anyone inside or outside the Church who thinks that Christians claim to be or should be better than anyone else, is misinformed or confused. The only person that a Christian measures himself against is himself, and that measuring stick changes every day, every moment, since Christians are normal people, as tempted and corrupt as everybody else.

Another misunderstanding by non-Christians is the giving and receiving of forgiveness. Forgiveness is not an easy ticket to non-stop hypocrisy. Forgiveness is the basis for transformation of all relationships. Instead of being angry, bitter and filled with hate towards others and towards oneself, a Christian chooses forgiveness instead. There is a word that Christians use that is also connected to the “how” and the “why” of forgiveness—grace.

Grace is something that is completely foreign to and rejected by many non-Christians because of the “how” and the “why”. The Christian understanding is based on belief in the sacrificial death and resurrection (three days later) of Jesus of Nazareth, whom we believe to be God, and the love exhibited by his sacrifice, which purpose Christian’s believe is to pay for the guilt of all humanity. Christians believe this sacrifice could only be made by God himself, who came to Earth as a completely innocent man.

No hypocrisy there.


Crying, sweeping self from shores long served.
Dead, again so dry, so off, so…nothing itself.
Stuffed sameness swiped forth factoid run-arounds.
Regurgitating reality run through the ringer.

Rejection again. Feeling down to the bone, boneless.
Slick words go down like chunks of rock and ash.
Intentions disbelieved and promises uncounted on
Still bite just as strongly or all the worse the same.

Laughing in ironic mockery strikes like a knife to the spirit,
Hopes torn, then chopped, then diced, then liquefied to boot.
Trust betrayed at every turn, never knowing what face will
Appear at the next turn of the screw, cutting right through.


Solo subjection to professional opinion,
Legalese and doctoral battle for dominion.
Something smells inside this shell,
Rotten carcasses show me to hell.

Know-it-alls and better-than-yous come forth
To brag and pulverize the humble.
Beneath and beside don’t matter in here,
The worker ants are just fodder.

Looking for a chink in everyone’s armor,
Taking note of it all while taking it all.
Nothing left for the little man,
No man at all.

Equal access to no access,
Pawns played in a players’ game.
Casualties are only noted
As a notch to count for the win.


try come fly dead my rye lie end tie
do thy trend lope rend try tick odd
cable kid kick check crick elbow
maybe tube topple reach rely able
sound kind anger sick lead lord
label lid angular sybil torch sop sock
order never nick knife rip knock knob
clip send lob bell bring ching song
knee kong cringe sing and made
read nifty nice round wiped clean
old sick table rift key oggle swift
ripped lift ate keep pry whip lounge

Feeding the Beast

Stub your toe and see what you get.
The miser watches, he flies ahead.
He keeps your purse in his greedy hands.
He holds your future, his power is grand.

The miser can throw you to the wolves,
If his mood is dark enough and bold.
He can take from you every dollar,
And he won’t listen, when you holler.

When living in the miser’s tent,
You scrimp and save to pay the rent.
When working for the miser’s pay,
It’s “do this now, or else” each day.

Not an easy place to be.
Not ideal, by any means.
My wife and I get by, at least,
So every day, I feed the beast.