Wednesday, March 23, 2011

Jordan Baker: A guest Entry with our good friend Peter Saunders

An athlete’s form, a female’s grace
A slender arm, a sunlit face
So quickly I my words misplace
As I enjoy her prized embrace

Mysterious, yet stirring, she
evokes an unseen lust in me
Alas, there is no price or fee
to purchase her reality

Saturday, March 12, 2011

Lovers Looking Backward

cherry blossoms blanket the weeping willows twisted branches in a rosy-pink Eden, as it weeps tears of the joy for the beauty it now sees in its reflection in the eternal rapids which sway about around it, remembering back to years before when the cherry tree and the weeping willow were separated but as autumn came and its chilled breezes blew their leaves around in circular motions. They danced together throughout the day playfully singing the chant of pleasure, at night as it sunk, alighting so softly down the river, once again honoring the creation that placed these two side by side. Until ever so slowly day by day, branches became intertwined and after centuries of nights and days played one after the other in intermittent bliss, each time more pleasure-filled than the last, as the trees now were one wrapped around each other, with that sort of magnificent rustic glow: no ax could cut it down, and now as these two lovers looked down they realized that they were no longer two trees, but rather, now, one.

Lovelocked

i want to see you,
i don't care how
i don't care when
preferably now
just to see you
your hair all entangled
still slightly wet
yet in beauty mangled
your sweatpants on,
a v-neck tee
anything really
just close to me
wearing a smile
thats faithful and true
giggling lightly
o what do i do
i stare at you breathless 
mouth off hinge
to stay here forever
i'd go through the bends
you are 6 inches away
with arms open wide
if only you knew
this love which i hide
i love you my lady
which you may not hear
if only i were strong
i wouldn't stop for fear
And as you move on
and i stay the same
you deserve to know...
i melt at your name


Friday, March 4, 2011

The Longest Six Seconds Continued (seconds 6-43)

...in a muffled deep-voiced mumble, he is barely audible, but the seriousness, hope, and light in his eyes, speak more than the words--silence, endless it seems draws on for almost 2 seconds as thoughts began to form of rejection: "O dear God what would I say, do I play it off as the puppy-faced mess of pity, the jerk who leaves curtly, two stab her in the back, is it possible these are my only two...but then she smiles and his mind goes absolutely blank of everything and for a millisecond he stares, and finding no fault in all he sees, he now re-enters his state of perpetual anxiety as he wonders what she sees, knowing how many imperfections could be named in a moment with his face and body now quite close to her. She nods her head giggling, as sweat begins to congeal on his forehead.-----"Crap, i hadn't thought about this possibility", he nods his head now looking like a total idiot mumbling something in inane gibberish fumbling around so self-conscious and embarrassed  he would go to a Grizzly bear for comfort. She hugs him, doing all of its magic, and then skips off smiling turning around to share her gorgeousness and gives the sexiest wave he's ever seen still beaming--he smiles blissfully than melts. She turns once more as his gaze still has not faltered as her golden hair dances off the sunset's drowsy rays. He will recall this situation for days-years-and likely the rest of his life, and while maybe he will come to grips that his awkwardness was inevitable and that all that mattered was that the girl he mumbled these words too was now the woman in his arms. But one question, would haunt him- unanswered for the remainder of his stead. Why me- How did I get so lucky that every morning she is still here sleeping beside me taking comfort in my arms- that she stays- that she loves me despite all my imperfections and failures, and further still, let's me love her.

Monday, February 28, 2011

Jesus and Religion

                I am a sheep: Fleeing often (trying) on my own from the wolves which howl the zeal of religion and strip the glory of God from my life. Above my incompetent self is a shepherd who in abounding grace watches over me holding me up and cleansing me from my selfish inebriation. These wolves: religion, pull the wool over the eyes of many sheep and at times have duped them all. They pose as the ‘holiest’ members of the earth, though their righteousness is self-acclaimed. It is they who dim the fire of Jesus, having elevated their personal preferences to the level of God’s law. As Driscoll says in the sermon, though, Jesus says, They do not get to write a book, God wrote the book, it has all the rules we as sheep need, they cannot add their rules to my book, their rules are not my law, I do not acknowledge their rules I acknowledge my rules, my rules are THE law. These Pharisees, pose as religion, make themselves something to be desired even idolized and this is not the God we must worship. We can go through life at whatever stage, far from what religion would write our bounds, and still be rested in the grace of the Almighty. Yet, often, especially in this insidious South Charlotte bubble it is not this that we struggle, but rather much the opposite, we try and obey the letter of the law, to look good, to be this political representative of God, to be his defendant and act on behalf of the Creator, and in doing so, we blind ourselves from the wondrous opportunity to be blessed by being the guilty party with God as defendant and Him acting on our behalf. It’s this name brand Christianity idol that we present, and it is that, that rather we should run in fear of.
                Driscoll makes innumerable points, as to the fallacies of this idealized quote, unquote “religion”, describing it as, easily impressive, external rather than internal, inspirational rather than truth based. In effect, many fall in love with the motivational speech of these religion-ites eating up every word and making idols of the mouths they come out of. But Christianity is much more than the speech; it is a race, a race that will eventually and inevitably claim the lives of all mankind. It is the race, that brings us to the Creator, and no amount of smooth talking, “coaches” can propel you there, for they merely forestall your progress occasionally on accident, often in purpose. And as scary as it sounds that those that lead us to God, can also eventually deter us from him, it is all around us, through us, in us, and of us.
                Often these fallacies show up in life as Driscoll put it, with people being “really committed to all the wrong things”. I could stand and give a fiery speech that a nectarine should be the next governor of South Carolina, I could misconstrue and twist words of wise men, the words of the Bible; I could gather support, I could talk so smoothly that some would begin to believe, but no matter how you slice it, a nectarine can never, and should never be in political office. (I’ll take this moment to pause and pray you caught that pun)… in continuing, often this is the same crap we as an ignorant and fickle people buy into all the time. We get all dressed up and all riled up and impassioned over the silliest and most insignificant nuances of the faith while millions breathe still not knowing the name of the Lord, Jesus Christ. So, to what end do these things travel? To me, it seems a dastardly and graceless one, one far away from the Great Commission, and away from the true meanings and impacts of the Messiah and his coming.
                It is necessary, nevertheless to acknowledge and honor the good in the things of religion. There is, invariably a strong sense of protectionist ideals and a code of holiness, that, in their place hold a strong bearing on our lives, and can help lead us to righteousness. It is only, when these things are elevated to the level of the Heavenly Father’s law that there becomes a problem.
                Consequently, the wolves that prey and howl, though often having the goal of help and holiness, often can lead us away from that and on the path of self-righteousness where the blood of the Messiah is diminished and the words of men are become far too important and required in comparison to the law of the Supreme Creator. God’s grace is relentless, and our sin is overwhelming, so to think that by your own actions there is saving, there is sever incongruity. These Pharisees and religion-ites talk the talk and walk the walk (in front of people) but “all men sin and fall short of the Glory of God”
                “By his wounds we are healed”

Sunday, February 27, 2011

The Longest 6 seconds

An embarrassed giggle breaks the hush of the two whisperers as her cheeks grow burgundy red, he stares at her, in faithful brown eye and curls his hand in to stroke the breathtaking beauty of her face, he gently glides over her now giddy jaw as he places it alightingly, on her shoulder. she stares at him hopeful for what the rest of her dream would turn out, but inside fearful that this, this mediocre man might be such, or that perhaps this whole thing is a front, that all he wants is to get inside. She refuses to remove her stare in his eye, hoping to keep the truthfulness there; the glare of the sunset dances on her soft brown eyes as he now melts in there keep. His lips now in eternal curl, smile at what he is able to see, lucky to touch; his mind is tempted, his anxiety realizes how hard to believe that a girl like her would be with a guy like me, as for a moment he gazes back making sure he won't disappoint her, perhaps he is not able to fulfill the life and years of commitment that these joined breaths are subsequently lusting. He recalls all the idiocies of his flesh all the fallacies of mouth, all the incongruities and depravity of thought, how would i ever be able to treat her as she should. "She couldn't really think so, I know so, it won't work, but maybe i can try" as he once more glimpses her glory and thinks, "to only have a taste of her wonder, to only have the touch of a crowded subway transportee, to only have the sight of the lucky passer by, the audit of the stalkerish eavesdropper, to only be in the same room, share the same circle, or just the same world, i will have done myself a service" She sits there now in impatient confusion, falling from her bliss as he opens his mouth, here it goes, he will either make or break this night, this relationship, as though, with placid faces they seem confident, together they breathe, deeper and longer, as if it was rare, as daringly, he speaks...

Monday, February 14, 2011

Valentine's Day Response

Why are there so many plush toys, diamond rings, and fancy heart-shaped things?
Why is 'love' used most ironically and most often, yet commitment chills bones?
Why is giving mean nothing to the princess, yet puffs up the already arrogant kings?
Why are relationships negotiated via skype, text, and cell phones?

Love is meaningless, Love is vain
Love is betrayal, a mocking pain
Love is a trial, Love is a word
Oxygeausia, tasteless its sword
Its name is a beacon, a faint-hearted cry
A word with no meaning, Love is a lie
Does it exist, This antique form
Maybe, though the path is a hell of a storm
So here I set forth, confused at this trough
Diving in, to show one, what she ought
Here's to antiquity, to setting it straight
On a path I have chosen, revealing my fate

__________, I'm coming...