will this wound ever heal?
gaping and waiting for the full circle to arrive.
how did my heart fall out on the way side?
how did i get here?
i miss the creak, the bed that wouldn't sleep,
the rumble of my mini fan sitting in your room.
for now i am at the door to my favorite restaurant,
waiting to be seated, not expecting anyone else to turn up,
except the some stranger impatiently taking my order?
The smell is still on my fingers,
the air still lingering with the safe presence of the familiar hands i knew.
my nights now quiet, amplifying the cold and the pain festering,
pining, yearning, praying, hoping, for just one more day, one more gesture,
one more look that tells me that everything will be alright.
i'll miss the snow once again,
watching happy couples and children sliding down their five hundred dollar bill, chowing down every piece of hilarious snow flake,
imagine santa hovering above on his singing snow sledge
and memories or photographs that will never be made.
i want to get out of this loop in my head
but my hands are tied and my feet they ache.
perhaps i don't really know my saviour.
my saviour, zephaniah, mighty to save.
i remember 1983,
all dressed up nowhere to go.
watching the back of my dad fade away,
abandoning me cold, bruised and battered at the dining table.
will you save me tonight even with this mud on my hands?
will i be thrown out with the bath water again?
am i just another odd missing piece?
it's all too quiet, i don't like it.
if only words could talk away the pain,
for the loud noise of gongs and cymbals has stopped.
and the rave and rant and the fighting has stopped.
the intellectual rapture and the silly introspection has ceased,
except the hum of the hardworking reliable fridge,
the occasional water dripping from the toilet tap;
the sound of aging people wasting away.
saviour, when is my number up?
Saturday, June 30, 2007
Thursday, June 28, 2007
寂静
oh spirit,
what's the story?
the meaning of all this unkempt fury?
where can i find your morning glory,
to stand against my goal & victory?
oh ego,
where are you hiding?
slow down, this ain't another chiding,
scratching away at your fragility,
i'm still here to defend your dignity.
oh manger
how do you cradle?
the night to rest us better,
from the drone of this long gone hour,
to save this wanning zeal & fervour.
oh saviour
what is this, my number?
waiting, pining, for my turn to fall & stumble?
for shadows they come to pillage and plunder
oh come save us, oh God of wonder.
oh spirit,
speak of your story.
the foundation of this heart and history.
lead me to a place, still & without a flurry,
weathered and washed from this meaningless inferiority.
what's the story?
the meaning of all this unkempt fury?
where can i find your morning glory,
to stand against my goal & victory?
oh ego,
where are you hiding?
slow down, this ain't another chiding,
scratching away at your fragility,
i'm still here to defend your dignity.
oh manger
how do you cradle?
the night to rest us better,
from the drone of this long gone hour,
to save this wanning zeal & fervour.
oh saviour
what is this, my number?
waiting, pining, for my turn to fall & stumble?
for shadows they come to pillage and plunder
oh come save us, oh God of wonder.
oh spirit,
speak of your story.
the foundation of this heart and history.
lead me to a place, still & without a flurry,
weathered and washed from this meaningless inferiority.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Deep Blue
The sky overcast and the sea was rough. The night difficult with tossing and turning half asleep between dreams and this ploughing plowshare hanging over me. I could not wait for the morning to renew my eyes as it peered through the blinds and the clouds parted an unwilling dawn. My body unrested, unwanting. The artificial pressures from the valves spun an unbearable note in my head.
I ducked into the cabin, under the quarterdeck, safe inside the plexi glass, watching the swirls from the coffee steam fog out the screen as I scribbled incomplete letters nervously over them. He took out the blue print, my brother, the navigator, parked himself right next to me and picked out the lines that were red bleeding into white and the routes that got it trapped between the floaters, the ice that could send this baby sinking. Post game analysis, as he calls it, seperating the chaff from the mission.
I was ready to abandon. For all hope was ripped from under my feet and I could not think for a second and cringe for another minute over the sirens that have been building up over my head. The chattering seagulls that squealed & swooped from side to side, harmless but instigating some unexplainable fear and danger. While the flare signal went out for help, the coast guards on the other end of the comms didn't quite help the situation. I was poised for a crash, we would recommend abandoning the ship and wait for the rescue team which will ETA 48 hours, the emotionless machine crackled.
We play to win the game, he said, we plan so we can win. I sat inside the deep blue and for some reason, the words didn't matter as much as the company and the faith I felt from the change of tone. The temperature inside rose several notches and i loosened the grip on my blanket and caffeine. The shivers slowed to a calm. Somewhere out there, nemo was found.
I made one final salute and ducked out onto the tarmac and made a dash through the pelting snow storm with renewed passion. And this is just the simulation training module.
I ducked into the cabin, under the quarterdeck, safe inside the plexi glass, watching the swirls from the coffee steam fog out the screen as I scribbled incomplete letters nervously over them. He took out the blue print, my brother, the navigator, parked himself right next to me and picked out the lines that were red bleeding into white and the routes that got it trapped between the floaters, the ice that could send this baby sinking. Post game analysis, as he calls it, seperating the chaff from the mission.
I was ready to abandon. For all hope was ripped from under my feet and I could not think for a second and cringe for another minute over the sirens that have been building up over my head. The chattering seagulls that squealed & swooped from side to side, harmless but instigating some unexplainable fear and danger. While the flare signal went out for help, the coast guards on the other end of the comms didn't quite help the situation. I was poised for a crash, we would recommend abandoning the ship and wait for the rescue team which will ETA 48 hours, the emotionless machine crackled.
We play to win the game, he said, we plan so we can win. I sat inside the deep blue and for some reason, the words didn't matter as much as the company and the faith I felt from the change of tone. The temperature inside rose several notches and i loosened the grip on my blanket and caffeine. The shivers slowed to a calm. Somewhere out there, nemo was found.
I made one final salute and ducked out onto the tarmac and made a dash through the pelting snow storm with renewed passion. And this is just the simulation training module.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
clack and caw
it is the one thing,
that defeats this one thing
this ridiculous thing under my skin.
an insider,
slider, through the ear, left of the fear,
down the nasal passage,
past the glands
over the tonsils,
down the throat,
raping the gut,
deafen the tumult,
water, cold waterfalls putting out the fire,
fire,
fire,
too mysterious,
fanning fire,
stop desire,
pull the trigger,
stop the power.
abstract,
no object,
no extract,
no click track.
out of touch,
pocket full of mud,
fight this fist and cuff,
tell on me,
scrutiny,
watch me watch my mutiny,
too many marathon movies,
yet another one night stand.
how do i tend this land?
tell me how i came here, now I'm stuck in your kaleidoscope trailer park?
i will play you the easy.
i will make me the easy.
i will sit still and stick around and be easy.
until there is no more left of me,
only blood rusting on the rail, all nice and pretty.
that defeats this one thing
this ridiculous thing under my skin.
an insider,
slider, through the ear, left of the fear,
down the nasal passage,
past the glands
over the tonsils,
down the throat,
raping the gut,
deafen the tumult,
water, cold waterfalls putting out the fire,
fire,
fire,
too mysterious,
fanning fire,
stop desire,
pull the trigger,
stop the power.
abstract,
no object,
no extract,
no click track.
out of touch,
pocket full of mud,
fight this fist and cuff,
tell on me,
scrutiny,
watch me watch my mutiny,
too many marathon movies,
yet another one night stand.
how do i tend this land?
tell me how i came here, now I'm stuck in your kaleidoscope trailer park?
i will play you the easy.
i will make me the easy.
i will sit still and stick around and be easy.
until there is no more left of me,
only blood rusting on the rail, all nice and pretty.
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Ride The Snow
I am glad Monday is here again. Routines holding my hand through till it all goes away. These days the therapy of cold turkey and forced to live alone again is quite painful and somehow I think I am too used to it. Most times I just want to duck under the sheets and sleep it off and wait for the morning to bring me new hope.
Mondays are special and I love Mondays. Signifies the start of the new week, an end to another weekend of silence and solitude and aimless wander in the city. It's the part when everything dies and there is a shift in the air, knowing that snow falls on those who are without events, purpose and companions. When it's funny that weekends should be when every life, possibility, movie dates, trips, markets, communion would take place. I find myself unwilling to walk along with just about anyone. Stuck between the two faces of the same coin unable to speak my mind and show my emotions. Too many questions and too many reasons to keep it in.
So I usually take random choices. Run away from the intruding crowd and its not their fault. Run away from all of it. Such as walking home in the rain on my own for 2 hours, or wait on the park bench for some sun to warm me up, or sneak into the safety of a busy mall and hide behind the face of some magazine till my brother calls and the ride is ready. I remember it's like trying to watch some great movie and cry myself satisfied but no one to share the joy with.
I want life. I want deep connect. I want my nets to be tossed into the wind. I want to know I am no longer some sidekick who needs to know next to nothing but keep everything intact and calm on the outside. I want to hang out, run along, no longer in want and no longer always sounding desperate for routines. I want to step outside of this silent wall and fill the void with something more than alcohol can numb out. Please don't let me turn to my easy drug again.
But so it seems, baby steps, new religion, breakthroughs and new social graces in the light of 600 reps. The roast dinner expanded tonight and I no longer need to be cutting up the beef or making sure there's water in everyone's glass. Toast with me this new social class. Will this snow just be another passing note or will i finally ride it like everyone else do?
Mondays are special and I love Mondays. Signifies the start of the new week, an end to another weekend of silence and solitude and aimless wander in the city. It's the part when everything dies and there is a shift in the air, knowing that snow falls on those who are without events, purpose and companions. When it's funny that weekends should be when every life, possibility, movie dates, trips, markets, communion would take place. I find myself unwilling to walk along with just about anyone. Stuck between the two faces of the same coin unable to speak my mind and show my emotions. Too many questions and too many reasons to keep it in.
So I usually take random choices. Run away from the intruding crowd and its not their fault. Run away from all of it. Such as walking home in the rain on my own for 2 hours, or wait on the park bench for some sun to warm me up, or sneak into the safety of a busy mall and hide behind the face of some magazine till my brother calls and the ride is ready. I remember it's like trying to watch some great movie and cry myself satisfied but no one to share the joy with.
I want life. I want deep connect. I want my nets to be tossed into the wind. I want to know I am no longer some sidekick who needs to know next to nothing but keep everything intact and calm on the outside. I want to hang out, run along, no longer in want and no longer always sounding desperate for routines. I want to step outside of this silent wall and fill the void with something more than alcohol can numb out. Please don't let me turn to my easy drug again.
But so it seems, baby steps, new religion, breakthroughs and new social graces in the light of 600 reps. The roast dinner expanded tonight and I no longer need to be cutting up the beef or making sure there's water in everyone's glass. Toast with me this new social class. Will this snow just be another passing note or will i finally ride it like everyone else do?
End of the day
I am glad Monday is here again. Routines holding my hand through till it all goes away. These days the therapy of cold turkey and forced to live alone again is quite painful and somehow I think I am too used to it. Most times I just want to duck under the sheets and sleep it off and wait for the morning to bring me new hope.
Mondays are special and I love Mondays. Signifies the start of the new week, an end to another weekend of silence and solitude and aimless wander in the city. It's the part when everything dies and there is a shift in the air, knowing that snow falls on those who are without events, purpose and companions. When it's funny that weekends should be when every life, possibility, movie dates, trips, markets, communion would take place. I find myself unwilling to walk along with just about anyone. Stuck between the two faces of the same coin unable to speak my mind and show my emotions. Too many questions and too many reasons to keep it in.
So I usually take random choices. Run away from the intruding crowd and its not their fault. Run away from all of it. Such as walking home in the rain on my own for 2 hours, or wait on the park bench for some sun to warm me up, or sneak into the safety of a busy mall and hide behind the face of some magazine till my brother calls and the ride is ready. I remember it's like trying to watch some great movie and cry myself satisfied but no one to share the joy with.
I want life. I want deep connect. I want my nets to be tossed into the wind. I want to know I am no longer some sidekick who needs to know next to nothing but keep everything intact and calm on the outside. I want to hang out, run along, no longer in want and no longer always sounding desperate for routines. I want to step outside of this silent wall and fill the void with something more than alcohol can numb out. Please don't let me turn to my easy drug again.
But so it seems, baby steps, new religion, breakthroughs and new social graces in the light of 600 reps. The roast dinner expanded tonight and I no longer need to be cutting up the beef or making sure there's water in everyone's glass. Toast with me this new social class. Will this snow just be another passing note or will i finally ride it like everyone else do?
Mondays are special and I love Mondays. Signifies the start of the new week, an end to another weekend of silence and solitude and aimless wander in the city. It's the part when everything dies and there is a shift in the air, knowing that snow falls on those who are without events, purpose and companions. When it's funny that weekends should be when every life, possibility, movie dates, trips, markets, communion would take place. I find myself unwilling to walk along with just about anyone. Stuck between the two faces of the same coin unable to speak my mind and show my emotions. Too many questions and too many reasons to keep it in.
So I usually take random choices. Run away from the intruding crowd and its not their fault. Run away from all of it. Such as walking home in the rain on my own for 2 hours, or wait on the park bench for some sun to warm me up, or sneak into the safety of a busy mall and hide behind the face of some magazine till my brother calls and the ride is ready. I remember it's like trying to watch some great movie and cry myself satisfied but no one to share the joy with.
I want life. I want deep connect. I want my nets to be tossed into the wind. I want to know I am no longer some sidekick who needs to know next to nothing but keep everything intact and calm on the outside. I want to hang out, run along, no longer in want and no longer always sounding desperate for routines. I want to step outside of this silent wall and fill the void with something more than alcohol can numb out. Please don't let me turn to my easy drug again.
But so it seems, baby steps, new religion, breakthroughs and new social graces in the light of 600 reps. The roast dinner expanded tonight and I no longer need to be cutting up the beef or making sure there's water in everyone's glass. Toast with me this new social class. Will this snow just be another passing note or will i finally ride it like everyone else do?
Saturday, June 23, 2007
All 45 Conversations
He said, go sleep, you have an early morning flight to catch! All I could do was smile and stay in the moment and savor the goodness presented on this screen. A new visiting hour was created with extra time. His grace working hand in hand. I know I have only 6 hours left for rest, only realising now, for the last hour flew by like an engaging movie.
She sounds a lot more composed. And that was all the joy that kept me going.
Bridges do heal and conduits do connect. Let His grace of time and space shift and shuffle our lives and bring us to listening points. Let our ears be open to His perfect tap and step. Let His sweet song ring in our ears and cradle us to rest. For this night His mercies are renewed and a new morning beckons the sons and daughters to arise and take dominion over creation.
Sweet saviour sing over us all.
She sounds a lot more composed. And that was all the joy that kept me going.
Bridges do heal and conduits do connect. Let His grace of time and space shift and shuffle our lives and bring us to listening points. Let our ears be open to His perfect tap and step. Let His sweet song ring in our ears and cradle us to rest. For this night His mercies are renewed and a new morning beckons the sons and daughters to arise and take dominion over creation.
Sweet saviour sing over us all.
Big Fish
I wonder why you made me this way. This intensity only making sense to me, deciding between plunges or stabs or the slow dance to the end of my step. Why do you taunt me and tease me? My brother said third time lucky and I wish it was this easy. Why is it such an easy mixture to swallow for some and a jagged pill for me? I get judged that I am holding on too tight but why do i always feel like its a handout, hand down from some unwanted watershed. Take a look around. And it's easy to see, the eyes turn out the lights and my mind zones out. I want to sleep safe inside the arms of another and never wake. For why is it so hard to pull a bull terrier along and all I want to hear is that it's never easy. Don't make it sound like it's my clinical oppression. I have a deep and dying burden to tell the story and it does not want to die, though many a dreams I wanted to snuff out the lingering flame. Smoulder my face in this sleep and squeeze the life that is keeping me in this agony. Would I go as stupid as to saw off these wings on my back? Would you go as far as to keep your distance? I don't mean to scare you away, but it's been a lonely journey, this feels like the third epic false start again. Do not toy with me again. I am at the end of my rope and I am slipping. You can see the cracks showing. I don't know how much longer i can hang on to this cliff. Please have mercy on me and don't give me no more hand out cards. Perhaps this is the big fish I have been dumbing down.
Maybe all I need is some company with a warm blanket right next to me.
Maybe all I need is some company with a warm blanket right next to me.
Friday, June 22, 2007
to the broken, forgotten and downtrodden
For too long you have trodden on my people
For too long you have stepped all over their broken pieces
For too long you have spat on their faces, the image of me.
No longer will you dance among their ruins
No longer will you talk your talk and do your walk
No longer will they live under your shadows
For I the Lord am a healer, a father who will fiercely defend his young
No longer will my children live under oppression
No longer will they live in captivity of words, expectations and
meaninglessness.
For here, my steadfast promises stand and boast to the test of time to
my sons and my daughters,
For I know the plans I have for you
Plans to prosper you and not to harm you,
Plans to give you hope and a future.
Then you will call on me
And come and pray to me, and I will listen to you.
You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.
I will be found by you and will bring you back from captivity.
I will gather you from all the nations and places where I have banished you
And will bring you back to the place from which I carried you into exile...
Song of the broken, contrite in spirit... verbatim.
You have searched me, LORD,
and you know me.
You know when I sit and when I rise;
you perceive my thoughts from afar.
You discern my going out and my lying down;
you are familiar with all my ways.
Before a word is on my tongue
you, LORD, know it completely.
You hem me in behind and before,
and you lay your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,
too lofty for me to attain.
Where can I go from your Spirit?
Where can I flee from your presence?
If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.
If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
if I settle on the far side of the sea,
Even there your hand will guide me,
your right hand will hold me fast.
If I say, "Surely the darkness will hide me
and the light become night around me,"
Even the darkness will not be dark to you;
the night will shine like the day,
for darkness is as light to you.
For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother's womb.
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well.
My frame was not hidden from you
when I was made in the secret place.
When I was woven together in the depths of the earth,
Your eyes saw my unformed body.
All the days ordained for me
were written in your book
before one of them came to be.
How precious to me are your thoughts, [a] God!
How vast is the sum of them!
Were I to count them,
they would outnumber the grains of sand—
when I awake, I am still with you.
If only you, God, would slay the wicked!
Away from me, you who are bloodthirsty!
They speak of you with evil intent;
your adversaries misuse your name.
Do I not hate those who hate you, LORD,
and abhor those who are in rebellion against you?
I have nothing but hatred for them;
I count them my enemies.
Search me, God, and know my heart;
test me and know my anxious thoughts.
See if there is any offensive way in me,
and lead me in the way everlasting.
Selah....
For too long you have stepped all over their broken pieces
For too long you have spat on their faces, the image of me.
No longer will you dance among their ruins
No longer will you talk your talk and do your walk
No longer will they live under your shadows
For I the Lord am a healer, a father who will fiercely defend his young
No longer will my children live under oppression
No longer will they live in captivity of words, expectations and
meaninglessness.
For here, my steadfast promises stand and boast to the test of time to
my sons and my daughters,
For I know the plans I have for you
Plans to prosper you and not to harm you,
Plans to give you hope and a future.
Then you will call on me
And come and pray to me, and I will listen to you.
You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.
I will be found by you and will bring you back from captivity.
I will gather you from all the nations and places where I have banished you
And will bring you back to the place from which I carried you into exile...
Song of the broken, contrite in spirit... verbatim.
You have searched me, LORD,
and you know me.
You know when I sit and when I rise;
you perceive my thoughts from afar.
You discern my going out and my lying down;
you are familiar with all my ways.
Before a word is on my tongue
you, LORD, know it completely.
You hem me in behind and before,
and you lay your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,
too lofty for me to attain.
Where can I go from your Spirit?
Where can I flee from your presence?
If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.
If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
if I settle on the far side of the sea,
Even there your hand will guide me,
your right hand will hold me fast.
If I say, "Surely the darkness will hide me
and the light become night around me,"
Even the darkness will not be dark to you;
the night will shine like the day,
for darkness is as light to you.
For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother's womb.
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well.
My frame was not hidden from you
when I was made in the secret place.
When I was woven together in the depths of the earth,
Your eyes saw my unformed body.
All the days ordained for me
were written in your book
before one of them came to be.
How precious to me are your thoughts, [a] God!
How vast is the sum of them!
Were I to count them,
they would outnumber the grains of sand—
when I awake, I am still with you.
If only you, God, would slay the wicked!
Away from me, you who are bloodthirsty!
They speak of you with evil intent;
your adversaries misuse your name.
Do I not hate those who hate you, LORD,
and abhor those who are in rebellion against you?
I have nothing but hatred for them;
I count them my enemies.
Search me, God, and know my heart;
test me and know my anxious thoughts.
See if there is any offensive way in me,
and lead me in the way everlasting.
Selah....
Thursday, June 21, 2007
Skip & Spin
Few simple things make my day. A short sentence, a well intentioned phrase. A favour, a thank you note. An encouraging gesture. An arm around your back. A smiley typeface. A quick slip in and out of the chat room of this gmail fodder. Distractions that makes for fuel efficiency at work. Messages lighting up my phone with emoticons that hint of renewing life to come. The hours will pass. This difficult bump in the day will be over. Dinner will be served. Family time will happen. A warm car ride is just right across the building.
Makes my heart skip. Make it do a silly dance and spin around. Let the caffeine and sugared muffin hit the roof. 500 hundred more and it'll all burn out. This oppression in barter trade is only temporal. It will soon pass. The music in my head will keep spinning and my heart will go on. No one can take this shuffle and feet away. They can try and fragment my life and thought patterns but they cannot stop the slick and sure stubborness when it all comes back together. How much can they do? Just a drop in the ocean. The ocean of His boundless love and grace for me and my life.
For my God is bigger than the towers we're trapped in. My God is better than the air that I breathe. My God is mighty to save. Goes before my enemies, fights valiantly and chargrills them all, snuffs them out from the life of the earth, one by one, sure and steady. He rides the storm He brews and charges through like a torrential windpowered jet.
For while the clouds descend in disguise, smouldering every effort of my enemies, He pours a warm cup of wine and gives it to me, to keep my hands and heart warm. Sleep for the night and strength for another day.
Give me this day my daily vegemite, that I may grow strong in You. Tempt me not with these sugars that fizzle out the fire. That I may do good in the day of Your hour. For this is all Your doing, Your purpose, Your destiny. Let all of Your design be made complete in me and my family and this earth You give dominion over.
You renew my beaten body. You keep my heart skipping and my melodies spinning.
Makes my heart skip. Make it do a silly dance and spin around. Let the caffeine and sugared muffin hit the roof. 500 hundred more and it'll all burn out. This oppression in barter trade is only temporal. It will soon pass. The music in my head will keep spinning and my heart will go on. No one can take this shuffle and feet away. They can try and fragment my life and thought patterns but they cannot stop the slick and sure stubborness when it all comes back together. How much can they do? Just a drop in the ocean. The ocean of His boundless love and grace for me and my life.
For my God is bigger than the towers we're trapped in. My God is better than the air that I breathe. My God is mighty to save. Goes before my enemies, fights valiantly and chargrills them all, snuffs them out from the life of the earth, one by one, sure and steady. He rides the storm He brews and charges through like a torrential windpowered jet.
For while the clouds descend in disguise, smouldering every effort of my enemies, He pours a warm cup of wine and gives it to me, to keep my hands and heart warm. Sleep for the night and strength for another day.
Give me this day my daily vegemite, that I may grow strong in You. Tempt me not with these sugars that fizzle out the fire. That I may do good in the day of Your hour. For this is all Your doing, Your purpose, Your destiny. Let all of Your design be made complete in me and my family and this earth You give dominion over.
You renew my beaten body. You keep my heart skipping and my melodies spinning.
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
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