A Princess Far Away: A Hopeful Valentines Day (Poem)

A Princess Far Away: A Hopeful Valentines Day (Poem)

My heart lies in the hands of a princess far from home. It was not by her choice, nor does she know, so when she breaks my heart, it is not her fault. I forced her unknowing hands, slipped my heart into her pocket.

When she breaks my heart it’s not her fault, but it doesn’t stop the breaking. She’s gentle on my heart, because she’s gracious to all, but she knows not my heart is stuffed behind her lovers, beating out of sync, but both beating for hers. She did not know that I had placed mine there years before their love would start, but it’s not her fault. She had no idea that as she was taking hold of his, and giving hers away, she pushed my heart deeper into her pocket, under all the broken parts of her, and all the dreams and forgotten thoughts.

I try to send my love in gifts. If I can’t have her, may she have her dreams, and I can only dream that she will find my heart. That he will find someone or she will find some flaw. What a selfish wish for two so struck by love, two loving hearts, with their own scars.

May they float away in peace. May separation cause them space that their hearts might dream of a different way. May their dreams be swept by different waves and may my heart return to it’s broken cage, if it be by storm or by her embrace. Would it float back home, or from the princess’ arms with a piece of hers to cherish and hold. But if they wed, if their union bonds, would my heart be freed when she takes his name. Would I find the one of whom my heart aches. I do not know what tomorrow may bring, but if it’s not my heart, would it be peace within. I know my God holds the universe and beyond. He has my heart in mind. I might not know the reason why or the person I will find, but I do know she will be worth the wait, I just hope it’s the princess from far away.

Inspiration Re-Evaluated: A Writing When Nothing feels Right

Inspiration Re-Evaluated: A Writing When Nothing feels Right

“From those times does inspiration turn from stress and anxiety, to hope and strategy.”

I have not written in a while, but it’s not strictly because of being too busy or not knowing what to write about, or taking an intentional break or any other excuse. My issue has been that my mind is a minefield of emotions, and nothing feels right.

Some may trace it to mild depression, pent up pride, writer’s block, shame etc. I think in the back of my psyche, a little bit of each of those might exist, but I trace it mainly to the answer of this one question:

What is inspiring me? 

Say this for yourself, and take a moment before you continue reading.




Isn’t that a crazy thing to think about? maybe you’re not as wowed by this as me, but there are so many places I find my inspiration. Personally, I love interviews, podcasts, music, sermons, videos, and listening to others opinions and passions. These places can be so beneficial, but also, can be so toxic. I find myself so “inspired” I don’t give myself time to think. Even more scary, I sometimes don’t give myself  time to pray and talk to the original inspiration and creator of life itself.

One way the “mind clutter” (if you will) has affected me is that I find myself in one moment, yet thinking of the next thing or the thing from last week. I see that I am present physically, responding to people, but not fully engaging in what they’re bringing to the table at that moment.

Another contribution that is made by the clutter is apathy toward situations or people. The apathy seems to come from an overstimulation of information mixed with busyness that causes people to become statistics, and hopelessness to brew when we see all the problems and how much time it takes to reach a solution. I’ve found this to lead to anxiety that can cause a shut down, and sudden urge to watch Impractical Jokers and eat ice cream (but maybe that’s just me). But practically, it makes confrontation a chore.

The last negative I’m going to share to air out just a little more of my dirty laundry to the world, is this overstimulation of information, especial from social media, as well as retreating to a vice, can cause some real loneliness. This might sound counterintuitive, but too much absorption most times, leaves us empty. I’ve felt this in many respects. I personally am blessed with some really good friends that won’t let me have a day without a phone call from one of them. What’s more important than having the coolest friends in the world, (something i definitely don’t have, because they’re all super weird, and way more awesome and loyal then they are hip) or being with the love of your life, (something I’m so ready for, yet definitely not rushing) or having everyone like you (something I’ve given up trying to achieve, yet something I wish was achievable without compromising one’s convictions) or having something to do or think about without fear of boredom, is sitting down with Jesus, (don’t tune out please) and talking with the one who created you the way you are for a purpose bigger than yourself. He isn’t judging you right now for who you are or what you’ve done. Right now, he’s longing for your attention in a world full of distractions. Some of us even get distracted by pastors talking about God or by talking all about the deepest parts of what we know about God during the times we need to just spend with him.

From those times does inspiration turn from stress and anxiety, to hope and strategy. God created you for relationship, and he created you for impact. When we “waist” a certain amount of time with the one that loves us fully, we are able to hear his heart for the hurting and outcasts and the people we wish didn’t have to live in misery and injustice. From there, he sends us into the world with assignments of LOVE into the world that may not love us back, but won’t be able to stop the impact.

And if you don’t know Jesus, IT’S COOL! Because he fully knows you and fully loves you no matter what your knowledge is of him. Get to know him, let him know you want to give up all the junk that hasn’t satisfied you yet and even the stull that felt satisfying in a moment, but did not sustain you, for him. Tell him you want to connect to his heart and his family. Ask him to show you his heart and to fill you with his spirit. In him is fullness of joy and freedom.

My life after giving my life to Jesus has been a battle, but when I tap into his strength, I can overcome and when I lean into him, in the easy and the hard times, he gives me peace and fills me with his love.

Won’t you are I put down our devices, and pick up our chins and look to Jesus, fall in love with the Bible, his physical word, and thank him for his faithfulness?

“What is inspiring me?”

Goodbye (Poem)

Goodbye (Poem)

This poem is a tribute to anyone who has lost someone they loved. This year has been full of young lives lost, as well as full lives completed. Where grief resides, may there also be peace.

Goodbye. This isn’t for you, because you’re gone. It’s for me, because I’m left here with not you, but a shell of memories, beautiful and unique. There is no thing that could make this goodbye easier, there is no thing that could bring back normality. Normal will not return, but change. Once routine comes back into play and I start to come to grips with the fact that your voice will not be there to tell me good morning or that that shirt really doesn’t compliment me; That might be the time that normal is rewritten, but not the same, come sun or come rain, life has changed.

Goodbye to the things you did in secret or at least the things you thought no one had seen. To the infection of laughter in the way only you could bring. Our laughter will not cease, but it will never be the same. The jokes you told will be infused with longing, and remembering. It will no longer be just a joke or a quote, but a cherished moment in time, internally narrated in your voice.

Oh your voice, I want to remember it. Please, God. I don’t want to say goodbye to your voice. I know I will always recognize it, if technology replays it, but I don’t want to forget the way you said my name. The way it sounded when you were sick, or laughing, or when you sang; and not just on stage, but how you sang in the shower.

Goodbye is such an intimate word, and I utter it at a time, by you, it will not be heard, and if goodbye is forever, I may not bare the pain of it, but if goodbye is truly temporal, (and between us, I fully believe it is) then I can only wait until we meet again, and the hello will be sweeter than my hello has ever been.

Reality and it’s Elements (Poem)

Reality and it’s Elements (Poem)

Within the whimsicality of reality, we all say we’re doing fine, with the truth wrapped behind our eyes. It’s then, stowed deep inside the chest cavities until it rots into a lump, rolling deep inside the stomach, giving off fumes of insecurity and unresolved pain and even shame. When it vents through the mouth or seeps through the porous skin, it doesn’t often produce truth, the substance it once was, but it leads to anger, violence, depression or various vices and sins. It can also just build up and produce nothing but pressure, and silence.

Within the grind of reality, we find ourselves working through the week, forgetting what we’ve even done. Forgetting how we have even gotten where we are and where the years have gone. Where the passion for the art of our work is, and how it’s moved on. We want to work in a way work is like play and in some way, makes a change. Like we’re worth the space and working for more than just a pay check.

Within the the heartbeat of reality, we long for something. A finger cannot be placed on the longings destiny or what it is we want, but we want to be free; free from the hold of our current reality. We push through and hope for the best while knowing deep within our chest, that freedom is indeed within our grasp; That there is hope to be had.

Within the core of reality, we know that we must give up our grip on looking good on the outside to hold up our pride. We have to grasp onto something bigger than the skeletons we call our homes, and let go.

In the transparency of reality, we find freedom from the shame. We find freedom from the lie that no matter how dirty we are inside, we must appear clean as wool on the outside. For the discharge of infection may be messy, but it is necessary for the healing.

To make constant a reality, transparency is a must, although it only starts the thrust toward a life of peace and joy and freedom as a life long truth. It is a battle won in a war. It is not a guarantee, but it is a victory. Regardless of our sincerity, we must press on with vigor, suit up with the armor of God. Our enemy will not relent, we must not turn our back in ignorance, but stand sure in our position, and hold firm to our convictions.

In the fullness of reality, transparency must win, hope must spark, pride must fall, and determination must last.

We are not far removed from a full and true reality. We are only as free as we allow ourselves to be.

When You Can’t Hold On (Poem)

When You Can’t Hold On (Poem)

My grip, tighter then a vice, yet it cannot hold back the drip after drip, the blood running through my fingers, down my arm and beading from my elbow. What a terrible way to go, just hoping; praying that I might stop the flow. The thoughts racing through my mind, cursing myself, knowing the consequence could have been avoided and the afflictions are rightfully mine, yet still wishing the past three minuets could have a rewind and retry; although I know myself all too well, that even if I had twelve tries, I would squander each one, just like I have this time. I’m not a just a victim, but a slave to my own vices, and this wound inside of my chest will not heal; Not because it cannot, but because addressing the scars is only an attempt to mend only the product of my mixed up and broken heart.

from one infected hand to another, this vice grip I’m holding will only stop the bleeding, while the infection seeps into every other part, and spreading even to the brain, and once it gets there, it festers. It builds up pressure like a balloon, not relenting until theres release and devastation.

By that time, the damage has been done, and I find myself again, dressing wounds with infection, reconnecting my cycle of remorse and repentance, if that word hasn’t lost its meaning yet.

I don’t know how to change what I’ve found myself in, but I know this vicious cycle isn’t it. It isn’t anxiety and fatigue, followed by temptation, selfishness and loneliness increased, to thoughts to actions. It is not that because I’ve lived and seen it and that’s not what I want to be; a fraud, a bad example, a hypocrite, or a liar; half hearted, tired, and hopeless or dictated my shame.

I know that my savior is somehow knocking on my door, and I’ve rejected his love for a counterfeit bluff. How can I come when I know what I’ve done, and even worse, weighed options, and still chose the world. All I can do is let go. All I can do is let go. Whatever that is going to mean, I’m need to let go.

Why Isn’t Changing the World Easy?

Why Isn’t Changing the World Easy?

My mind has been in such a conflict with itself the past few weeks. I’ve seen people living their lives both in the media and in person, famous and ordinary, and I’ve seen a lot of smiles, but I’ve also noticed an underlining pain. I know the feeling of hopelessness and having everything I need, yet having nothing. I know that stuff doesn’t satisfy, and neither does fame or status. I know being busy is a good distraction from emptiness, but it’s only temporary, and only brings us farther toward un-satisfaction.

We all want to be a part of something, to be heard and to be right. We want to be known and understood, but even more so, we want to understand. The crazy part about this is that I know that Jesus is the answer, but even so, I don’t always trust him. I wonder why so many people don’t get to see Jesus in the way I and others have, and why kids have to be exposed to such negative role models; especially the kids of Hollywood. I wish I could take them under my wing and show them the love of Jesus, and that everyone I met, I could tell about Jesus and they would see his benefits an understand his truth and see how much better he is at satisfying then any vice.

I get upset that the amazing people in this world that are living free lives in Christ aren’t more seen by the public, showing the love of God, and specific “Christians” that vomit hatred to those who need love get the spotlights. Why are the talented Christian script writers and musitions kept silent over the singers and script writers who are just mass producing music that pats christians on the back without drawing in those who are lost and searching?

I want to make that difference. I want to find these influencers. I want to see them empowered and given permission to work for Jesus and love and give time to those who haven’t heard or seen God’s love. I also want to be that person that’s influencing wherever I go. The hardest part for me though is that no matter if I tell everyone about and show everyone practically the love of God, the majority will not listen.

I don’t want anyone to miss out on what I’ve experienced. I don’t want anyone to experience eternal separation from the only one I have found to bring me constance and fullness of joy and peace. The only one who has given me insight into strangers situations that I could have never known so that they have the chance to be free.

But if I must remember one thing, it is these things:

  • I’m 22, and God is using me where I’m at and will continue to use me if I’m willing.
  • Each person’s life is worth giving a chance.
  • People are going to reject things that are good for them.
  • I have no clue what God has in store.
  • God is in control, and no matter if I like that or not, think it’s just of him or not, he is the creator and is the only one that has the power to draw people’s hearts to himself.
  • God isn’t going to make anyone follow him.
  • God promises to answer my prayers, so I will pray for people’s souls and live selfelessly and not let myself get so caught up in my own wants.

All I can control is me, and if I don’t change the world, may I at least change my own mindset and continue to love the hell out of everyone I interact with.

Hopelessness is the Enemy of Freedom (Poem)

Hopelessness is the Enemy of Freedom (Poem)

Far more deadly than cancer and far more crippling than fear. So much more defining then routine, yet as loyal as a friend. It will not leave when asked nicely, and does not ask to come in. It enters at your own risk with no care to who it might hit.

Hopelessness can be caught like a virus, anyone can carry it. Though the side effects aren’t visible in the light, it projects it’s terrors mostly at night, after the moon has taken its place in the sky, ushering in the mood; exposing the infection through thoughts and dreams, leading most times to actions, solidifying the notion that all hope for freedom is lost.

freedom sings from the rooftops, calling, bringing notions of peace and separation from the things that so easily entangle us. The melodies are riddled with failures and victories,   tears and jubilee, longing and agony, peace and assuredly a promise of fulfillment and a crown of royalty.

This melody doesn’t sound easy, like a nursery rhyme or a song written for a kid. Freedom sounds more like Handel’s “Massiah”, intricate, full of different instraments and dynamics that ebb and flow. Most importantly, it takes precision and attention. Freedom is not sung through voices uninterested or who’s passion is gone. It is sung through lungs tired, yet willing to sing one more time, and a thousand more if means the battle will be won.

Freedom is full of truth, and is at times wonderful and sometimes grim, yet always promises joy, if not through it all, for sure by the end.

Hopelessness is a liar, and is always dim, consistent, but who wants a constant if theres nothing better, and tiredness and routine begin and becomes a trend.

I’m finding freedom as I take back hope again. It’s worth every withdrawal and longing and aching within, because it has come with joy, opportunities,  and connection. Hopelessness can’t stay, because God has given me the strength, and I’ve taken hold of freedom.