Bed of Roses

Leftovers are a let-down.

Picking up the pieces

Of my broken heart.

Left not right,

Caught in the middle.

Ideologies and rumors,

Hearsay and politics.

Wondering what to do,

After it’s all been said and done.

Get out the bread and butter.

Stir up the soup of the day.

Mow the lawn and be happy.

Such an excuse to be gay.

Do you know the secret

To making peace in this time?

Mine is slowly seeping

Into a bed of roses.

Ready to Go

Was it something I said?

Or is it something about me

That causes you to doubt yourself?

Some kind of honesty

That penetrates your facade?

Some truth that echoes

In the halls of your heart and mind,

Calling you out of your slumber,

To accountability and renewal?

Is it the low blows and cheap shots

That I’ve taken at you over time,

Coming back to roost?

Is our relationship that fragile?

Are the bonds of our love that weak?

Is our relationship that disposable?

Not from my side, never fear.

When you’re ready to be mature,

To talk things out and make up,

To declare peace over this war torn

Battlefield,

To move on from this stagnation,

I’m ready to go.

Rejected

Twisting, turning.

Emotions churning.

My heart is heavy.

My losses burning.

Oh, God,

When will you come

And save me?

My friends have left me,

And I feel abandoned.

The rejection stings.

Spare me from torture.

Please, Lord,

Let us reconcile once more.

To Say or Not to Say

What I’ve said in anger

Cannot be taken back.

People I’ve blamed for others’

Misfortunes

May have taken it personally.

Pressure I feel on my neck—

The bait from enemies waiting

For me to fall.

And so I wonder:

Is having my silly say

In politics or religion

Worth alienating my

Brothers and sisters?

Maybe a little temperance

Could go a long way.

Maybe if I hold my tongue

When I’m tempted to

Jump into the fray

Might win me

A different kind of victory.

One that lasts.

One that builds up,

Instead of tearing down.

One that reconciles.

One for the kingdom.

Starting Point

Don’t remember much about you,

From growing up.

Don’t know if we didn’t have many

Meaningful conversations,

Or if we didn’t emotionally connect,

Or if you just weren’t around.

I see you in the few pictures

We still have left.

That’s proof! I shout,

To nobody in particular.

You were there.

You came to my games,

To my concerts,

To my awards ceremonies.

But did you say anything to me?

Anything memorable?

Anything impressionable?

Anything teachable?

Why don’t I remember you?

I know you were proud of me.

I felt your support when I knew

You were there.

But what did it mean?

What was our relationship like?

Did we ever talk about things?

And why didn’t I ever go to you

For help, when I got into the many

Conflicts, arguments and problems

With family or friends?

If you were there, if you were around,

Why didn’t I take advantage of it?

Maybe you weren’t the problem.

Maybe I just didn’t know

What to say, how to ask,

How to express myself.

Maybe I didn’t quite understand

What families and friends are

All about?

I didn’t know how to safely

Navigate those potentially perilous

Waters, without asking questions

From someone more experienced,

Someone wise, someone loving,

Someone who cares.

And maybe that’s why I have

Such a hard time believing in God,

Believing he’s there for me,

Offering grace, tenderness, mercy,

Forgiveness, wisdom and guidance.

I don’t have a relationship that

Means something because

I don’t know how to connect,

How to ask for help,

How to express my thankfulness.

I don’t even sense his quiet support,

His delight in his child.

Midnight Mayhem

Scurrying about,

In the midnight hours,

Like a little mouse,

Searching for a piece of cheese;

But you are up to much more,

As those wild emotions

Race through your mind,

And those dips of depression,

Fuel the fire of sadness and anger,

You break out the vacuum cleaner,

And do a few loads of laundry.

Good channeling for my sake,

Better than the belt,

Or a wicked rage,

Accompanied by fists

And insults galore,

Not constructive criticism,

But damning put-downs

Reserved for closed doors.

Memorial Day

A place to be

Is pleasing when

There is a person

To be with—

Someone strong,

Someone fun,

Someone loving—

Come get some!

In the park,

I toss a ball

With my father;

Spring and summer

Sunny weather

Covers our faces

With warmth and never

Makes us uncomfortable.

So, we go swimming

In the lake.

We ride a boat

Across the water.

We dive in and feel

Refreshed.

Oh, what a day

To be with family.

What a time

To dream dreams,

To enjoy each other’s

Company.

To live in the freedom

Paid in blood

By our forefathers,

And our military

Today.

Please remember

When you drink your beer

And eat your hot dog.

A price was paid.

Identity

It’s a part of me,

My personality,

My sexuality,

Individuality.

I am unique,

The way God made me,

The way my parents raised me,

The things I’ve discovered

Along the bumpy way.

There’s no shame

In being this way—

Just because it was

Never mentioned in church,

Or school,

Or at home.

Even the basics

Were not taught.

Trial and error

Was my only way

To discover my body,

To find out

What it means

To be human.

To experiment

Inside and out,

To pop those bubbles

Of misconception,

Perversion of religion,

Crucifixion.