Gotta love the poetry

I know it has once again been a while since my last post, please forgive me all you ravenous readers out there... I have myself been reading a bit, some real good stuff and I'd like to put some quotes of C.S. Lewis' autobiography up. He is such a craftsman of literature; the way his sentences are built and each proposition is strung after another is a skill I can only hope to achieve one day.
But I don't have any Lewis today, what I have is some Hugo and some Rimbaud.
I found my mum's Oxford Book of French Verse while I was down in Orbetello over the holidays and asked her whether I could take it back with me. It has since been a place for me to delve in and dream and marvel at the magnificence of the verses of some of these French poets. It doesn't seem anything like English modern poetry it has such variety of themes, vocabularies and style figures.
I already loved Arthur Rimbaud's writings after having studied them for my baccalauréat, but I discovered Victor Hugo's verse, something spectacular. This one here is one of my favourites, short and beautiful:

Nuits de Juin

L'été, lorsque le jour a fui, de fleurs couverte
La plaine verse au loin un parfum enivrant ;
Les yeux fermés, l'oreille aux rumeurs entrouverte,
On ne dort qu'à demi d'un sommeil transparent.

Les astres sont plus purs, l'ombre paraît meilleure ;
Un vague demi-jour teint le dôme éternel ;
Et l'aube douce et pâle, en attendant son heure,
Semble toute la nuit errer au bas du ciel.

From Rimbaud, however, the classic Ma Bohème makes me dream everytime I read it, or recite it:

Je m'en allais, les poings dans mes poches crevées;
Mon paletot aussi devenait idéal;
J'allais sous le ciel, Muse! et j'étais ton féal;
Oh! là! là! que d'amours splendides j'ai rêvées!

Mon unique culotte avait un large trou.
-Petit Poucet rêveur, j'égrenais dans ma course
Des rimes. Mon auberge était à la Grande-Ourse.
-Mes étoiles au ciel avaient un doux frou-frou.

Et je les écoutais, assis au bord des routes,
Ces bons soirs de septembre où je sentais des gouttes
De rosée à mon front, comme un vin de vigueur;

Où, rimant au milieu des ombres fantastiques,
Comme des lyres, je tirais les élastiques
Des mes souliers blessés, un pied près de mon coeur!

My own stuff, I've spent some good time writing lyrics and music, nothing I'll put up here today, I'll just give a poor and short thing I wrote in January:

Picturesque Morning Hour

Amidst the kettle on and all my yawning
Time slowed down while making breakfast this morning:
What seemed to take thirty minutes only took ten.

Just as well, since a moment before
my ten minute shower actually took more,
it seems like things evened out in the end.

Ciao!

I'll keep writing

It seems like people are tired of going on this website to find the same posts as months ago with no updates... I don't care, I'll keep writing anyway. Sure, I do like comments and feedback on my work, but hey, whenever you find the time for it, I don't mind. The use of the blog has changed quite a bit anyway, I just post previously written stuff on it. Hey, You remember that poem I wrote about the Tuscan Countryside on a train? I've kind of grabbed some of it and made it into a song.
I have realised that I have quite a pile of creative writing and I really want to finalise the songs I have been in the process of writing for ages. Feedback is essential though, it's really about getting some good criticism. I'd love to be confident enough to perform my own stuff and be an artist in my own right (that sounds so pretentious, doesn't it?) . But more than that, playing with other people who bring something more, something really powerful to the songs, making them really awesome, really special music.
Before I ramble on too much, I'll peace out.

J.T.

Too bad I don't have the internet yet

It's been impossible to post anything for ages since I don't have the internet at home or at work, just thought I'd drop one, though I wonder if any of you have kept interest in this blog. I have been writing loads on paper, I'll put some of that up hopefully. I'm working at a school in Canterbury, been doing that since mid-October, it's been really great, teaching French. I have plenty of time to do youth work too, so I am really thankful to God for this position, which actually came about really miraculously! The French teacher in this school is my English teacher's sister!
Anyway, thought I'd write a bit about life before dropping this:

15/11/2006

The autumn trees that keep their leaves
are carnivals of brightness in blue skies
of sunny November days.

But in the night, in the shade of the streetlamps
they become ominous mountains of forms and thoughts.
Every knot and every curve giving a peculiar personality
to the pensive poplar, or is it a maple?

And every leaf, a thought he's holding on to.
Well, this is the season to let go;
Your precious pensées will plane and pose upon
the muddy ground and grass and gravel
and get walked upon by boots and sandals (if a Franciscan monk comes that way).

But friend, this is no disrespect to you,
no, your leaves give us this season's hues.
And if it weren't for that, November would be grey,
life would be so much more depressing and mundane.

Thank the Lord, who by his wonderful word,
holds every branch and leaf and fold and curve together
letting leaves fall and making this season so much better.

Believe it or not, it's me...

Sorry for keeping things so quiet for so long, I have had a very eventful and unplugged summer. Since my last entry I have finished my year of voluntary youth work and service in the church and am presently enjoying the last of three weeks of holiday, which have taken me through France, Switzerland and Italy. This year has been one of mighty personal growth, but there’s always room for more. I have really enjoyed the studying I have done this year and it has actually drawn me back into reading for leisure. Since about the age of twelve I stopped reading novels because of the rubbish we got given to read year in year out at school; things didn’t get better at university, but I am finally a book eater again!
I was working at an international summer school most of the summer, in between conferences - which were amazing - and earning money I was able to buy some “stuff”, CDs, DVDs, books… Funny enough, now that I’ve been working I have never had so little money! My rent and deposit just vanished it! Now I need a job for the time I get back to Canterbury - lean on Yahweh Jireh (God the Provider) - and I hope over this year to get on the right track for working with languages and find an adequate course to start next September, one which will then direct me to a fitting job. Oh yes, I’m twenty-two and I need to start getting serious about life! Especially if I want to see the things happen which God has spoken to me about…
I’m going to be joining the full-time work crowd, having to fit in any service and ministry - such as the mentoring of young men - in my spare time, just like most people, which will probably be quite challenging. One thing I want to work on this year is roughening up and being more radical in my faith, truly living out the things I believe about God, but I guess that’s what life in Christ is all about, getting to know Him more and more, living for him more and more. A Scripture has been ringing with me for a while, among others, like a real battle cry:

Philippians 1:21: “For me, to live is Christ and to die is gain.”

That is awesome, to be in the state of mind that everything I do on earth is for the glory of God, but to meet him in Heaven is preferable.
You must think I’m crazy and I want to reassure you that I don’t mean I want to die or go blow myself up in holy war, that’s not what biblical Christianity is about. What it means is that I want to honour God in everything I do in life. Obviously I don’t because I’m not perfect, thank Jesus that my salvation is based on his righteousness and not mine, but that is what my life is all about, there is truly nothing better in life than tasting of the goodness of God! I want to be a reflector of His glory, that others may see that He is the most beautiful thing there is, only Creator, created by no-one…

Anyway, if you have any translation jobs you want done, Yo! (e-mail me!)

Music that is impassioning me lately: anything by the David Crowder Band, check it: www.myspace.com/davidcrowderband

And here’s a little creative writing, I think it ain’t too bad!

27/08/2006

Strumming endlessly
Picking randomly
Jamming into the afterwards.
At the end I still have nothing
(There is laziness in this wishful creator)
I long to make something
(Strip it from me to obtain a beauty-filled creation).

That sound would burst forth originally
From my guitar
Making imagination and sensations of listeners
Run wild
Let sound define their thoughts and feelings
Into stories, musings,
Laughter and tears…

What people are always on the doorstep of
Not daring to step in.
What I’m always on the cusp of
But I never throw myself in.

Intimacy in the Desert Life

Vendredi, 19/05/2006

The Hermit

See the sun, rising from the earth
rising to the sky
shining on all you can see
oh, as far, as the dunes that meet the sea
to land that touches the sand
further than my eyes can reach!

Another day to live,
another day to die,
another day to plant my tree.
Oh another, another day to search,
another day to find
some solid ground under this layer of sand...

Sometimes, I hope in the wind
that it might bring a dust of diamond to me,
I hope to spot on the horizon,
the silhouette of someone else, wandering here...
I hope a butterfly would land on my hand
and tell me stories from places far away...

Another day to live,
another day to die,
another day to gaze into the deep.
Another day to search,
another die to find,
that precious thing I don't quite know...

I will walk, right across this sand
and as I do I'll write all over it
and sow, sow, sow.
I know, somehow I know,
it will only take one moment,
for water to spring up and life to grow,
In this desert of mine!

Another day to live,
another day to die to my old self and rise, rise, rise!
Another, another day to pray, another day to fight,
another day to follow the first Word!...

Another day to live,
another day to die...

A pall o'jet hicks

First "Article" type post in a long time; don't get offended... Or do, if you want to.

I love it when people find out I’m a Christian and suddenly want to sound like they know their stuff about the Bible and the “conspiracy theories” surrounding it.

“Oh, you’re a Christian! So, what’s your opinion on the Dead Sea Scrolls?”, then they smile thinking they’ve posed me some kind of theological question they’re not too sure about, however, persuaded it will put me in a difficult situation. The problem is, that is a completely nonsensical question: “Um, what I think about them? Well, I think they're scrolls that were found near the Dead Sea!” It’s like asking someone: “So… what do you think about that stapler over there?” What kind of a question is that? “Er... It works?” But I think maybe, just maybe, someone has told them that there is something very controversial about the Dead Sea Scrolls, and they think “ooh, there’s another 'contradiction' in Christianity!” (on top of all the other "contradictions" they know of). Too bad that friend got their information from another friend having themselves got it from someone else, or from the internet, or from some cheaply written novel…

Romans 1:16-20: I am not ashamed of the gospel, because it is the power of God for the salvation of everyone who believes: first for the Jew, then for the Gentile. For in the gospel a righteousness from God is revealed, a righteousness that is by faith from first to last, just as it is written: “The righteous will live by faith.”
The wrath of God is being revealed from heaven against all the godlessness and wickedness of men who suppress the truth by their wickedness, since what may be known about God is plain to them, because God has made it plain to them. For since the creation of the world God's invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that men are without excuse.

People will be happy to accept anything, whether true or untrue, whether phrased intelligently or not, to refute Christianity, like this young person who told me: “No, you see the reason I don’t believe the story of Adam and Eve is true is that the account in the Bible is very similar to other stories found amongst ancient civilisations in the Mesopotamian area.” Oh, I’m sorry, is that an argument, or did you forget the rest of the reasoning back with the first time you heard it. Surely if “other” civilisations from Mesopotamia have that account it means that more than one group of people agreed on it! Which itself is something quite rare if it weren’t true… (Civilisations nowadays disagree even on things that are true!) A bit like a person who says “That Noah’s Ark story is nonsense; other ancient civilisations have an account about survivors of a great flood!”… Yeah, that’s why it makes sense. The oral culture of those civilisations might have failed them, but the account in the Bible is written and put in a historic context, which is pretty amazing for an ancient “primitive” culture.

It’s amazing when people assume that since now we have come to the levels of technological progess we are living in, we are somehow more intelligent than the people who lived back in those days AND we can explain their own story better than they could! They weren’t stupid! They were people like you and I… If you have ever opened a Bible with a bit of intention you would have encountered high levels of detail with which stories are told and censuses are given. They could read, they could write, they could count. They weren’t the uninformed people we are or people in the middle-ages were, because of media bias and censorship. They weren’t scientists, but then, when your God can part a huge sea, you don’t really need science.

Guys like Richard Dawkings argument the other way round: “We have science, we don’t need God anymore!” That is very sad, because they are shooting themselves in the foot, with regards to this life and the next. Darwin, in his later years, talked about a loss of taste for life, as if he couldn’t appreciate the world around him anymore. I think his belief that we all come from animals and live to perpetuate a natural cycle resulting in death might be one of the causes for this absence of Joy (as C.S. Lewis would describe it).

But even more dreadful, in the next life, these people will appear before the King, to give an account of their lives. At that time, I know Richard Dawkings will not be saying, “I don’t need you!” no matter how much he hates God! He and a great multitude of others will be faced with the utter holiness of God and will shrink back at that dreadful sight because it will be unbearable to them.

1 Corinthians 1:17-25: Christ did not send me to baptize, but to preach the gospel—not with words of human wisdom, lest the cross of Christ be emptied of its power.
For the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God. For it is written:
"I will destroy the wisdom of the wise;
the intelligence of the intelligent I will frustrate."
Where is the wise man? Where is the scholar? Where is the philosopher of this age? Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world? For since in the wisdom of God the world through its wisdom did not know him, God was pleased through the foolishness of what was preached to save those who believe. Jews demand miraculous signs and Greeks look for wisdom, but we preach Christ crucified: a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles, but to those whom God has called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God. For the foolishness of God is wiser than man's wisdom, and the weakness of God is stronger than man's strength.

Nothing else to add…

Provincial Life

Giovedì, 13/04/2006

Politics, cats and lots of wine
Appear inevitably to fill my time
on this holiday, where the sun shines.
























Photo courtesy of Stuart "my brother" Kibbe www.labelme.org

Abbiamo vinto!!! "L'Unione... Fa la forza!"

Post-Party-Poem

18/03/2006

Winding down from a day of peace
even then, as bedtime draws near,
thoughts and reminiscences of the week
come racing through my mind,
sped up thanks to red wine
quite uninvited I might say,
just like last night, as I lay,
not succeeding in turning off my mind...

I can see, hear and read a flame,
and as I do that, breathe it in too,
as the fire in my heart is given food.

The ponderings of a lone heart
may be depressing at times
but may also bring intense joy...
Or, what do I know, I am he.
Not a regular member of a family,
the strange one, what is wrong?
Moving from place to place.
Maybe one day I'll find myself
in a place that is home, where I belong.
That is my hope, and my song...

An Inkling of truth

06 February 2006

Inkling of truth

Where’s my ink and where’s my pen?

Stop to breathe and pray to ten.

I panic when the waters break,

The delivery may not be so safe.

I don’t know what I’ve got to say,

But the surge is there anyway.

Do I have the gift or do I not?

Why does passion possess me, concerning all:

I can’t let go of one desire…

Do I have the gift or do I not?

What about the “and”s and “for”s and “but”s.

Drop a word or drop a line,

The risks are high and the shame is mine…

Yet I have passion, passion like a child.

Without reason, simply wild.

Freedom’s out and freedom’s in,

Outside these walls and in my pen.

Will I think about a girl,

Shining smile and lovely curves?

Or will I think about God,

The author of my life hereon.

I really don’t know what to say

But the urge is there anyway.

A candle burns inside of me

Don’t want to let it go to sleep.

Do I have the gift or do I not?

What about the “and”s and “for”s and “but”s?

Drop a word or drop a line,

The risks are high and the joy is mine.

And I have passion, passion like a child…

I have passion, passion like a child.

Without reason, simply wild.

Freedom’s out and freedom’s in

Outside the walls and in my pen.

Where’s my ink and where’s my pen,

Stop to breathe and pray to ten.

I panic when the waters break

The delivery may not be so safe.

Will I think about a girl,

With shining smile and lovely curves

Or will I think about God…

Create, don't create, create, don't create...

Thursday evening was the night... We excitedly made our way into the hall, to find our place, people we knew all around.
A twitching figure on stage, grey dusty hair, checkered light yellow suit, bushy beard, wrinkled face, tossing and turning, as though demonised... The lights went out, the play commenced.














I was so impressed with The Green Stick, Liam really has produced a gem of quality. Andy also was fabulous. Almost unrecognisable, I thought, when he appeared on stage, his movements and voice so natural and so unlike him.
I do hope they get asked to perform it again.
(Since Liam has created a link to this post calling it a review, I will elaborate.)
Two characters, a tree, a fridge full of books, a bench and two holes dug in the ground.
The mixture of the absurd and profound supposedly "reminiscent of Beckett and Ionesco" was there, no doubt, but I would say, from what I have seen of the two quoted (which is, not much, to be honest) that it went much more in depth in its exposition of the point that is trying to be put across. I would class it also with Pirandello, though not as extreme, as it presents the readiness to accept an illusion as a substitute for truth, as long as it is good enough to fit... The thing linking these three playwrights and estranging The Green Stick from their plays is the fact that Liam has created a play with a purpose that is more than to confuse, shock and proclaim the desperate situation of the human nature, in that there is a solution to the existential problem posed. (Liam is going to slate this post when he has reread this! "It's nothing like that, you wannabe critic!")
The attack to post-modern, pluralist worldviews is quite obvious throughout the play, which I love, because I can't stand that thinking which denies the possibility of truth and absolutes, arrogant thinking that says we are more intelligent than the wisdom of the ages.
The character who claims to be seeking truth but denies the existence of such a thing, trying to elevate himself above all is wretched like a dog, while the one who with simplicity gives his understanding of the world, knowing it is flawed, but open to receiving truth, rises like a bird...
The idea of the stick is based on this quote of Lev Tolstoj (as we write it in French) that you have surely seen on the leaflet, or on imanartichoke.blogspot.com: "I used to believe that there was a green stick, buried on the edge of a ravine in the old Zazak forest at Yasanya Polyana on which words were carved that would destroy all evil in the hearts of men and bring them everything good." Throughout the play, quotes from other authors are cunningly inserted, as pensées en passant, and Liam fitted little references to other writers here and there, irreverently ;) .
The second half of the play was particularly poignant, as we get closer to the dénouement, which you will have to see for yourself! So yeah, I do hope they get to perform it again, because it is a gem of quality as I said, and unlike anything around!

I got home that night feeling so inspired, and in such a philosophical mood, it was particularly refreshing. Which brings me to my... dilemma.
I have not been spending much time at all with my "Inkling buddies" of late, the guys who would, by their very nature, spur me on to create something coming from the depths of my mind, my heart. Fellows who would also be encouraged by what I write, as poor in quality as it would be, into brandishing anew a calligraphic instrument above a slice of paper, and let rip in a blurry but determined release of thoughts.
Was it Kant who said that no thought was finite or concrete until it was delivered in an explicit form, for example spoken or written? (Do correct me if I am wrong, I am just trying to appear to be smart, when really, I'm a fool.)
I must say I agree with this understanding of thoughts, broadly, mainly when it comes down to creative thinking: those thoughts are like a bomb that is released from a plane, falling, waiting to explode. If undelivered, it will fall into the sea, and just create a lot of turmoil (like an ulcer in people who fail to express themselves). But if pen darkens the paper with shapes and symbols, letters and punctuation, that bomb has exploded and creates an appreciable disaster. (Please note I am not a fan of war, guns or explosives, it is simply a image.)

But sometimes it may be a question of timing. Now is a time to read, to learn, to grow. I certainly don't have the time, at the moment, to sit down and produce worlds. Soon, I may be able to be released in it again. I wish I had a person to spur me on into it. Maybe I am not a particularly good writer, I do enjoy the whole process though, I want to learn and get better at it.

Last night I found and read in my messy room a few pages of my fellow Inkling Andrew's second Canterbury Tale. I wanted to write into the night. I had been particularly blessed yesterday, in being given the opportunity to speak at the youth group the same day, because of my poor friend's flu not allowing him to do it. It was great and just filled me with passion for the rest of the evening. Instead of staying up, I shoved myself in bed. I would not say this very often, but it was a mistake.


What has meaning? Nothing but what is eternal...
I say: "Come and give me that Wildfire."

Life of late

Here's a bit of an update on what has been going on lately. The Blog has been slightly neglected, except for the occasional short poem, because those are actually the only things I have had the time to write in the past five months.
Church work has really taken a lot of my time over, which is fair enough, it's my job and I love it. I'll jot down some highlights of last term, one of which would be preaching to the youth, that was great; I prepared a study on Romans 8:15-16, which took me quite a lot of preparing. It was the first time I actually prepared and gave such a long and fairly exhaustive preach. I loved it.
That has been one of the ways I have stepped out in my spiritual gifting. Some of the best times have been the times I have spent studying doctrine and the Bible.
Our youth group has been fantastically blessed and each social activity I have organised for Friday nights last term, even when done last minute and stressed out, has run so smoothly... I have also had the privilege of mentoring some young fellas and seeing them grow. I myself have been growing loads in one term.
I had a great holiday in Italy, Christmas was nice and warm, as well as relaxed, which is a rarity when in family. :) I spent lovely moments in family and with my friends in Orbetello and Grosseto.
The Church in Grosseto is burgeoning, I believe great things are going to happen to it. I was asked to go up front at New Year's service and give a testimony of what has been happening in my life. After that, my Italian pastor told me I was preaching next time I happened to be in Orbetello, which would be in April... exciting!
... I have had the chance of seeing some of the great leaders of our family of churches in action at the last training, just amazing to see these men of God with huge vision and yet so down to earth, honest and servant-hearted, modelling the character of Jesus.
Last night we started our Youth Alpha, which was spectacular. We are meeting in a café in the centre of town every Tuesday and there are so many youth coming to the meetings. Last night God was there, just beautiful.
God is providing financially for me, which is also really encouraging.
In terms of what is going to happen this term, God is giving myself and the other youth leaders fresh vision and passion; I am particularly feeling a call to praying and studying the Scriptures more fervently as well as new ways to reach to the youth in helping them grow.
Thank you all for your prayers.
Happy New Year!!!

under the sun

Venerdì, 30 Dicembre 2005

Orbetello

Tuscan Snow

A cloud has hovered over our sky

Swiftly, before anyone could know.

But slowly, gliding down from on high,

Flake after flake, here comes the snow.

Minute by minute, the air is full

Thousands of flakes dancing in circles

Landing over the green hills and fields,

Over and in between olive tree leaves.

Bonfire smoke rises unaware of the fun,

In a place which is normally used to the sun.

When was the last time these lands saw

White fall upon them, like manna from God.

Swiftly as it comes, away the cloud flies,

Blue and sun again fill the skies.

The Sand and the Sea still share their commune

Woods, unchanged, as though they never knew.

experiencing psalm

23/12/2005

Ansedonia Beach

Serenity... As the wind caresses the surface of the water

Peace... As the sea flutters and the sun draws a line from the end to here.

Rest... As the waves and breeze harmonise in song.

Glad... As my heart takes it in.

Then, as I opened my Bible, this Psalm came to life, wrote itself, right before my eyes...

Psalm 19

For the director of music.

A psalm of David.

1 The heavens declare the glory of God;

the skies proclaim the work of his hands.

2 Day after day they pour forth speech;

night after night they display knowledge.

3 There is no speech or language

where their voice is not heard.

4 Their voice goes out into all the earth,

their words to the ends of the world.

In the heavens he has pitched a tent for the sun,

5 which is like a bridegroom coming forth from his pavilion,

like a champion rejoicing to run his course.

6 It rises at one end of the heavens

and makes its circuit to the other;

nothing is hidden from its heat.

7 The law of the LORD is perfect,

reviving the soul.

The statutes of the LORD are trustworthy,

making wise the simple.

8 The precepts of the LORD are right,

giving joy to the heart.

The commands of the LORD are radiant,

giving light to the eyes.

9 The fear of the LORD is pure,

enduring forever.

The ordinances of the LORD are sure

and altogether righteous.

10 They are more precious than gold,

than much pure gold;

they are sweeter than honey,

than honey from the comb.

11 By them is your servant warned;

in keeping them there is great reward.

12 Who can discern his errors?

Forgive my hidden faults.

13 Keep your servant also from willful sins;

may they not rule over me.

Then will I be blameless,

innocent of great transgression.

14 May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart

be pleasing in your sight,

O LORD, my Rock and my Redeemer.

Hallelujah!

God is good!

An Evening of Creativity

10/11/2005
Garden State playing on mute,
between minutes 38&48 on repeat,
Ludovico Einaudi track 9 on repeat

Something has been awakened in me,
I have not experienced since... I don't know when.
I believe I was moving
as if in deep mud for long moment
and now I have been pulled out, cleaned up and I'm runnin',
with open arms.
The chords of my heart are being played by someone
who knows exactly what to do.
And it was silent for so long!

My Father has taken me by the hand
and made me look at Him again.
I recognise him once again.
I understand him once again.
I have fallen in love wiht him again.
... Now He's playing a symphony in me,
making me feel all that I should and that I am.
I trust him once again,
so I feel forgiven, and the one who was faithful takes me in His arms,
showing me once again
the myriad of emotions He has for me.
Love, in its intensity and its pain,
is more than I can bear,
laughing and crying at the same time seems such a paradox.

I trust him again,
and I know He's got the best for me.
Here, it's just me and him,
and that's how I want it, for now.
But I know He knows someone
somewhere else
and He's got her, special, unique and perfect for me,
and also kind of crazy.
He's brought me back into
a... fairy tale reality (lalala) :
The way He wants it to be,
playing music inside of me...

10/11/2005

each key hits my ear,
each string pulls on my heart,
each tone makes me jump within my skin.
The music kills me
and brings me back to life
at the same time
a thousand times over.
... In a really good way.

10/11/2005

In an outpour of emotions and words,
finishing off I collide on the table, on my page,
it's almost too much to take... I can't.
I can't wait... to share this someone else.

10/11/2005

I almost killed myself the other day.
In an uncoordinated attempt to jump
onto a small wall,
I lost balance, fell head first,
grabbing onto a nearby lamppost
I rolled over and landed on my back.
Got up straight away
and went on my way
my head completely unscathed
my legs hurting instead.
I think I was saved.
:) Thanks.

10/11/2005
Call it conclusion

Ever so often there's these irrational bursts of emotions, that are so intense they practically break my heart. In a way they make me feel alive, maybe God has a purpose for them. They certainly awaken my creativity!
I know people think that guys are not supposed to be emotional, or sensitive, but that's a load of nonsense. It's only because most men suppress their emotions and they end up feeling oppressed and feel like they need everyone to share in their oppression.
I want everyone to share in my freedom.
Call it sinusoidal heart patterns, I'm alive. Are you?

... I gotta tell you, I was afraid I wouldn't be able to write down, to express in words the feelings and pictures I had. I thank Jesus for giving me the ability to. And the Holy Spirit for the inspiration. And Dad, for his love.

regaining touch

Sunday, 23/10/2005

Take a moment, in between

chaotic dreams and full speed life

before I finally go to sleep, to grab a pen and write.

"It felt like my life stopped although it was in acceleration,

I lost the string that I was following with concentration."

The quiet moments are the best to examine what it's been like

collecting my thoughts and doing things no one else really likes.

Simple pleasures I appreciate that make me sophisticated

in my own way.

Dreaming dreams and thinking thoughts that are never really clear

Hoping that a concretisation eventually will draw near.

Oh, in my desires I am lost and with no aim,

if not the one to plod on in faith to eventually claim

a finite work for myself.

In the meantime, just write along,

maybe a poem, maybe a song,

with a mug of hot chocolate that says on it "star",

and swirling smoke rising from my cigar.