Not the one to plead,
way too proud to beg,
but see I get it now--
I'm the round hole,
and you're my square peg.
Monday, March 20, 2017
Friday, March 17, 2017
None Of Us
None of us make it out of here alive,
so dive.
Dive in,
begin.
Begin
that thing you've always dreamed of,
fall in love,
and never let them go.
Sow,
sow seeds of forgiveness
be about the Father's business.
Or at least about your own.
Build a house and make it a home.
Don't,
don't you spend another minute alone.
Call up a friend
because everyone's story is the same in the end.
None of us will make it out of here alive,
shift your gears into overdrive.
Today,
today lead the way for a lost child,
turn to a stranger and give them a smile.
Do,
do something worthwhile.
Because this is a one way street,
and there will come a day when death and us will meet.
I repeat..
None of us make it out of here alive,
the memories we've created will become archive.
Strive,
strive to be the best version of you,
read a book a two.
Get lost so you can find your own way,
Do,
do something out of the ordinary today.
Maybe...
Choose a charity and fund it,
sign up for a marathon and run it,
grow a garden and green thumb it,
write a song and hum it.
Grab,
grab your passport and just go,
be like the breeze and blow
because you never know
if this day is the one where it all stops.
Call,
call up your pops
simply to tell him you love him.
Get,
get up and go to the gym
because if not now
then tell me when.
When will the time ever be right?
Write,
write more often about whatever,
put pen to paper,
it doesn't have to be clever.
You,
you can't afford to take these
moments for granted.
Granted,
we've all been transplanted.
And the time will come when
the Planter will return for His seed.
Decide,
decide now whether you bloom
into a flower or into a weed.
Because we just don't,
sadly we won't,
make it out of here alive.
And I know that I've,
I've
sounded like a broken record,
in hopes to move you toward,
towards,
living life fully.
*In memory of G'ma and Pop 3/17/81, 3/17/10*
so dive.
Dive in,
begin.
Begin
that thing you've always dreamed of,
fall in love,
and never let them go.
Sow,
sow seeds of forgiveness
be about the Father's business.
Or at least about your own.
Build a house and make it a home.
Don't,
don't you spend another minute alone.
Call up a friend
because everyone's story is the same in the end.
None of us will make it out of here alive,
shift your gears into overdrive.
Today,
today lead the way for a lost child,
turn to a stranger and give them a smile.
Do,
do something worthwhile.
Because this is a one way street,
and there will come a day when death and us will meet.
I repeat..
None of us make it out of here alive,
the memories we've created will become archive.
Strive,
strive to be the best version of you,
read a book a two.
Get lost so you can find your own way,
Do,
do something out of the ordinary today.
Maybe...
Choose a charity and fund it,
sign up for a marathon and run it,
grow a garden and green thumb it,
write a song and hum it.
Grab,
grab your passport and just go,
be like the breeze and blow
because you never know
if this day is the one where it all stops.
Call,
call up your pops
simply to tell him you love him.
Get,
get up and go to the gym
because if not now
then tell me when.
When will the time ever be right?
Write,
write more often about whatever,
put pen to paper,
it doesn't have to be clever.
You,
you can't afford to take these
moments for granted.
Granted,
we've all been transplanted.
And the time will come when
the Planter will return for His seed.
Decide,
decide now whether you bloom
into a flower or into a weed.
Because we just don't,
sadly we won't,
make it out of here alive.
And I know that I've,
I've
sounded like a broken record,
in hopes to move you toward,
towards,
living life fully.
*In memory of G'ma and Pop 3/17/81, 3/17/10*
Monday, March 13, 2017
All the other things
Dear Mr Tin Man,
Oh how I feel your unfelt pain
and what it must be like to want to love once again.
To feel the embrace that a hug may bring
or the cleansing a few teardrops could spring.
To laugh and smile,
to show kindness even if for just a short while.
The simple things that remind us we're alive
the ability to prove that a heart once broken could survive.
Oh, Mr Tin Man,
so brave of you to want to care,
to be there
pleading to be present and living.
Forgiving,
and freeing
wanting to experience the perks of a human being.
But Mr Tin Man,
over time we've slowly lost touch
and the process was quite gradual.
Our emotions have become masked and
we're no longer fragile.
Just like you we also have become made of metal
living in a world lacking in mettle.
Desensitized,
even chastised
for showing the smallest acts of love.
Mr Tin Man
what in the hell has happened to us?
For you I hear it was a curse of the wicked witch
and well for us,
I think we may have dug our own ditch.
Because it's become cool to be cold,
a bunch of fools who don't fold,
wanting to be held but unwilling to hold,
externally put together yet
internally out of control.
And quite frankly to me it's all gotten old.
Like you Mr Tin Man,
I'm ready something that is real;
someone just for me.
A man that understands
that it's not what he's looking at that matters,
but about what he can see.
So much time has been spent
but no one is getting an investment on their return,
we've become stuck in old belief systems
we have yet to unlearn.
Oh Mr Tin Man,
is this what you really want?
Are you sure you can handle
the way the heart currently beats?
Because I'm telling you now
it's been hard in these yellow brick streets.
Don't get me wrong,
I understand your loss;
I relate to your side--
it takes a whole lot of courage to look in the mirror
and no longer want to hide.
There is a blessing--
a gift so to say,
a divine satisfaction that comes when we're able to
put our feelings on display.
Like I wonder if Dorothy, Scarecrow or even the Lion
fully understood your plight.
Could they possible fathom what it must be like
to have someone dim out their light?
I apologize,
excuse me for going off on a tangent
I didn't mean to digress,
let me sum up this letter by what I came here to
address..
You dear Tin Man have inspired me
well beyond measure,
and that empty chest of yours
ironically holds the worlds greatest treasure.
It's not a trunk full of rings--
crowns for kings,
not a bird who sings
or even an angel with wings..
No, I have found in you the ability
to be grateful for all the other things.
You're the collateral beauty
to my collateral damage,
you unknowingly slid me some oil--
lubricated my mind
so now I can manage.
There aren't enough words to
express my sincere gratitude,
so I'll simply say thank you
for being my Wiz
minus all of the attitude.
Oh how I feel your unfelt pain
and what it must be like to want to love once again.
To feel the embrace that a hug may bring
or the cleansing a few teardrops could spring.
To laugh and smile,
to show kindness even if for just a short while.
The simple things that remind us we're alive
the ability to prove that a heart once broken could survive.
Oh, Mr Tin Man,
so brave of you to want to care,
to be there
pleading to be present and living.
Forgiving,
and freeing
wanting to experience the perks of a human being.
But Mr Tin Man,
over time we've slowly lost touch
and the process was quite gradual.
Our emotions have become masked and
we're no longer fragile.
Just like you we also have become made of metal
living in a world lacking in mettle.
Desensitized,
even chastised
for showing the smallest acts of love.
Mr Tin Man
what in the hell has happened to us?
For you I hear it was a curse of the wicked witch
and well for us,
I think we may have dug our own ditch.
Because it's become cool to be cold,
a bunch of fools who don't fold,
wanting to be held but unwilling to hold,
externally put together yet
internally out of control.
And quite frankly to me it's all gotten old.
Like you Mr Tin Man,
I'm ready something that is real;
someone just for me.
A man that understands
that it's not what he's looking at that matters,
but about what he can see.
So much time has been spent
but no one is getting an investment on their return,
we've become stuck in old belief systems
we have yet to unlearn.
Oh Mr Tin Man,
is this what you really want?
Are you sure you can handle
the way the heart currently beats?
Because I'm telling you now
it's been hard in these yellow brick streets.
Don't get me wrong,
I understand your loss;
I relate to your side--
it takes a whole lot of courage to look in the mirror
and no longer want to hide.
There is a blessing--
a gift so to say,
a divine satisfaction that comes when we're able to
put our feelings on display.
Like I wonder if Dorothy, Scarecrow or even the Lion
fully understood your plight.
Could they possible fathom what it must be like
to have someone dim out their light?
I apologize,
excuse me for going off on a tangent
I didn't mean to digress,
let me sum up this letter by what I came here to
address..
You dear Tin Man have inspired me
well beyond measure,
and that empty chest of yours
ironically holds the worlds greatest treasure.
It's not a trunk full of rings--
crowns for kings,
not a bird who sings
or even an angel with wings..
No, I have found in you the ability
to be grateful for all the other things.
You're the collateral beauty
to my collateral damage,
you unknowingly slid me some oil--
lubricated my mind
so now I can manage.
There aren't enough words to
express my sincere gratitude,
so I'll simply say thank you
for being my Wiz
minus all of the attitude.
Sunday, March 12, 2017
The Night Shift
Every night my heart breaks just a bit,
lying comfortably in bed,
knowing I'll soon have to get out of it.
Now I suppose,
I chose--
what at the time seemed best,
completely unaware of the health complications
that could arise from the constant lack of rest.
And yes,
some may say,
"Consider the pay--
you're no longer living check to check."
And as true as that may be,
what they fail to see
is that deep down I'm a wreck.
Because my fuel comes from the sun;
I'm energized by its rays,
but now most of my time is spent
sleeping away the days.
Relationships?
Please, you don't even wanna get me started,
because obviously the graveyard shift
was designed for the lone hearted.
Socially deprived,
I have no time to be found by my mate,
by simply taking this position I unconsciously
told my love life that it'll have to wait.
An isolated hospital worker,
alone and very sleepy,
just the thought of returning to work
makes me kinda weepy.
Nightly encouraging myself, 'to see the wider view,
thinking possibly my patients may actually need you.
Praying to not become frustrated by foolish orders
or annoying physicians,
but to remember that this too may be apart of the mission.'
In the scripture Colossians 3:23
we're advised to do all of our work 'heartily'
as if we are doing it strictly for the Lord.
And to be reminded that the inheritance
of heaven will one day be our reward.
Though it seems like there's no rest for the weary,
heck,
not even during the night,
this season will soon pass
and eventually we'll be living back in the light.
So to my fellow overnight workers
who may also despise this assigned shift,
hang in there a little longer--
soon enough we'll get out of this.
For our joy comes at the sign of daybreak--
and the Lord our Father specializes in healing
the night shift workers' heartache.
lying comfortably in bed,
knowing I'll soon have to get out of it.
Now I suppose,
I chose--
what at the time seemed best,
completely unaware of the health complications
that could arise from the constant lack of rest.
And yes,
some may say,
"Consider the pay--
you're no longer living check to check."
And as true as that may be,
what they fail to see
is that deep down I'm a wreck.
Because my fuel comes from the sun;
I'm energized by its rays,
but now most of my time is spent
sleeping away the days.
Relationships?
Please, you don't even wanna get me started,
because obviously the graveyard shift
was designed for the lone hearted.
Socially deprived,
I have no time to be found by my mate,
by simply taking this position I unconsciously
told my love life that it'll have to wait.
An isolated hospital worker,
alone and very sleepy,
just the thought of returning to work
makes me kinda weepy.
Nightly encouraging myself, 'to see the wider view,
thinking possibly my patients may actually need you.
Praying to not become frustrated by foolish orders
or annoying physicians,
but to remember that this too may be apart of the mission.'
In the scripture Colossians 3:23
we're advised to do all of our work 'heartily'
as if we are doing it strictly for the Lord.
And to be reminded that the inheritance
of heaven will one day be our reward.
Though it seems like there's no rest for the weary,
heck,
not even during the night,
this season will soon pass
and eventually we'll be living back in the light.
So to my fellow overnight workers
who may also despise this assigned shift,
hang in there a little longer--
soon enough we'll get out of this.
For our joy comes at the sign of daybreak--
and the Lord our Father specializes in healing
the night shift workers' heartache.
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