Doorway to the Flipside

Gestalt

2011-08-14T14:51:00.000-07:00

I can't remember that far back
but I'm told that when I was born
I was cast from the finest image
out of marble, gold, and jewels.

The first thing I can remember, though
is tripping and falling as a child
when my knee hit the ground,
it broke into pieces

I glued them back on as best as I could
ensuring that every piece was back in place
but from that point forward,
I could never be perfect again.

Over time, more little pieces broke off
Sometimes I could not find them all,
so I would use clay
as it was easy to shape into the empty holes

When I reached the tempestuous age of youth
I spoke a word which angered my peers
and a swift punch in my face
forever ruined my visage.

As time wore on, the damage caused cracks to develop
and my limbs broke, one by one
I did my best to repair them
but they just kept breaking again

And then the buzzards came
and slowly picked the gold and jewels off
of my cracked and broken skin
until there were none left to take

But some of the jewels had been my eyes
so I found two coins of the lowest value
that no one would steal from me
They did anyway, occasionally, which was why I always kept a spare hidden.

I broke so many times in different ways
that I was putting pieces back
into the wrong places
because I couldn't tell which pieces they were supposed to be

Was that a shin or a forearm?
I did not know
If it fit in a place, that's what it became
and if it fit nowhere, then maybe it wasn't mine to begin with

Eventually most of the marble became irreparable
or it became sullied to the point where
one could not tell what it was anymore
and I had to forage for things to replace it

And so, over time, I cobbled myself together
pieces of sand and dirt and bits of glass for skin
and wood for bones
condemning me to forever rot from the inside.

Knowing my strong arm had to endure to keep rebuilding
I saved all of the iron and metals for its creation
so I would always have something
to keep from falling completely apart.

But the metal was cold and heavy
and removed any traces of gentleness from my embrace
and it rusted just enough
that whenever I ate, I could taste its oxidation over the food.

They all spoke behind my back
and the boldest to my face
that I was a monstrosity
and an offense against our design.

They were convinced I was an insult
to their perfect flesh
and to the one who cast their bodies
of beautiful marble and jewels.

"If you are broken,"
they cried aloud,
"Then you should just roll over and die,"
and none raised a question to their sentiment.

But I never gave up
I pressed on, determined
If what I was was wrong,
then so be it.

In the end, when I could maintain myself no longer
I finally fell apart.
No one wept, they just swept my parts to the trash
and forgot that I even existed

One small child, however, understood
that while my image was not the most beautiful
that I was made of more than the ones who were pristine
For I was of many things, and I had made myself.

In a solemn gesture, after everyone else had left
he plucked one of the coins I had used as an eye
and affixed it to his chest, under his shirt
and tell small children of my tale until his final hours

It was more than I deserved.

The Specter and the Madman

2011-07-10T15:01:00.001-07:00

The Specter moved down the city street as fast as he could. The early morning foot traffic made it difficult, as no one could see him. He did his best to weave through them, his legs growing heavier, weighed down by the fatigue of being up all night.

Erased from history, robbed of all but a precious few of his memories, and brought back in order to save the world to atone for his sins, the Specter was wearing himself down to the bone in order to make some kind of progress. Things were going slow, and he was running out of time. He was beginning to realize that there was a very good chance he might not be successful. The thought forced him to push on harder, his life becoming a cycle of minor success followed by crushing failure.

As he passed by a small bistro, he saw a familiar face sitting at one of the tables on the outside patio. It was a face he knew better than his own. It was the face that was burned into his mind. The face the Madman he saw every time he closed his eyes.

The Madman looked to be in his early forties, with a shaved head, and a well trimmed black goatee, which circled his ever present sinister smile. He wore a pair of small round lensed sunglasses which mostly obscured his eyes, but when they didn't you could almost reach out and touch the madness that swirled around in them.

He wore gray khaki pants, accompanied by a half unbuttoned blue Hawaiian shirt with a light green undershirt. Rounding out his ensemble was a brown faded duster draped over the chair he was sitting in.

He held a newspaper up, trying to obscure the fact that he was watching the Specter The Specter noticed though, and was a little surprised that the Madman could see him. He didn't think too much of it. He had recently discovered that when he meant genuine, imminent harm to someone, they were able to see him.

He most certainly meant harm to the man. This was the man who killed him.

"You!" The Specter shouted at the madman.

"Moi? You can't be serious." he said, in a fake french accent that was so bad it bordered on ridiculous. He feigned surprise, but then called back, "What's your problem?"

"My problem?" the Specter asked. "My problem is that you killed me!"

"I see two issues with your logic," the Madman said, peering around the tops of his sunglasses at the Specter, "Un, I do not remember killing you, and If I killed a person, I think I'd remember it, and deux, you do not look very dead to me."

As the Madman spoke, his ridiculous accent seemed to fade into a much more authentic one, and then back again. The Specter couldn't tell if he was French and trying to deliberately fake a bad accent, or if it was just terrible at faking a bad accent.

"It's a complicated situation," the Specter started, his anger getting the best of him.

"I know all about your situation, spirit. You are the one who was erased, brought back, and then charged with saving the world. I'm here because you need my help. Have a seat."

The Specter sat down, and the Madman called over a waiter to bring him two cups of coffee. The Specter looked dead into the Madman's eyes, his rage welling up inside him at this man, he could barely resist the urge to scream.

"Introduction," the Madman said, holding a hand out in an effort to subdue some of the Specter’s anger, "My name is Genevieve-Olivier Dufresne. You may call me Gen for short."

"I don't have a name," the Specter spit out, "They took that from me, along with everything else. All I have left are a few memories, mostly feelings from the day I passed. Other than that, I technically never existed. Thanks you to and God's bureaucracy, I have no family, and only one friend."

"Well, now you have two friends," Gen said, as he reached across the table, extending his arm for a handshake. The Specter did not return it. He sat at the table glowering at Gen until he sat back down.

They sat for awhile in silence, and the waiter, assuming Gen was alone, as he could not see the Specter, brought Gen two cups of coffee. Gen slid the other cup over to the Specter They waited for awhile longer in silence before Gen finally spoke.

"I am sorry you are in this situation," Gen finally said, his smile and phony accent disappearing as he apologized, "I know this must be difficult for you. I was unaware of the circumstances surrounding your rebirth."

There was a certain honesty to Gen's apology that caught the Specter off guard. He was beginning to find it hard to believe that this was the man who had shot him. The chaos in his eyes seemed benign. His smile, which in his memories seemed sinister, now had seemed more jovial. He wondered if it were possible for this man, who could easily be someone's crazy uncle, to transform into the twisted killer that had shot him.

He unfolded his arms as the anger ran out of him. As he did, Gen smiled once again.

"Gen," the Specter asked, "Are you guilty of my murder if was erased and never happened?"

Gen's smile expanded a bit, and he pursed his lips as he thought about the answer, "Maybe. I can't directly answer that one at this time."

"Alright then," the Specter continued, "are the Laws of God so warped that they can condemn a man to my fate even when he cannot remember what the offense is that he committed?

"The 'Laws of God?'" Gen's face contorted like a parent who just heard their two year old swear in a comedic fashion. His expression was somewhere between the brink of laughter and utter bewilderment, bordering on anger. "It really affects me, sometimes, how people, each one unique, with their own needs, can assume that one set of rules can be applied to every person. It's gone on for thousands of years, and yet still humanity seems to skirt around the simple truth. All situations are different, and the best resolution comes from not enclosed system of law, but instead an open mind.

"Here's an example," Gen said, producing a small rolled cigarette from one of his shirt pockets, and lighter from the other, in one fluid motion of his hands. "Something painfully generic," he said, as his constant smile curled slightly further upward. He put the cigarette into his mouth and lit it. There was a pause before he took a long, slow drag off of the cigarette.

Gen propped his elbow on the table, and held the cigarette up in two fingers of his hand as he continued. "A poor man works hard to provide for his family, but his business can barely keep a roof over his head. Having not been able to feed his family for three days, he asks a wealthy, well fed man for some food, which the man has in abundance. The well fed man refuses, hearing none of the poor man's pleas. The poor man, knowing this man has much more food than he needs, decides to steal a plate of meat to ensure his family doesn't starve.

"Now I ask you, Monsieur ghost," He said, the cigarette smoke obscuring most of his face aside from his mad eyes and even madder smile, "in God's eyes, who is more wrong? Clearly the poor man stole, but he did a so called 'bad' thing for a noble reason. Does that make it more acceptable? If so, what about the well fed man? Was he not entitled to keep his own plate of meat, which he earned, or is he somehow obligated to give his extra food to someone else who needed it more? If so, what happens if he suspects he is being taken advantage of? At what point can he stop giving away food?"

The Specter sat, hunched forward, with his forearm laid across the table in front of him, to keep himself propped up. The story was convoluted, and at this point he had more pressing matters on his mind than what someone else was hypothetically eating or not eating and how right or wrong they may be by doing so. He was much more concerned with the individual sitting across from him.

Up until a few minutes ago, this man, Gen, had been the dark cloud casting a shadow upon his life. That twisted smile and those mad eyes always peering out above his sunglasses had haunted almost every last one of the Specter’s dreams for the past ten years. Technically, this was the man responsible for setting in motion the events that put him in this position. All of his memories, and his very existence, erased by the actions of this man.

While the Specter was beginning to accept that Gen might not be the antagonist he thought he was, he was still very wary of the him. He kept his eyes locked onto Gen's, and did his best to remain as stoic as possible. He was tired, but he was determined not to show any weakness.

"It would appear," the Specter said, taking a sip of his now cold coffee, and wincing at its bitterness, "that there would have to be more details to this story than you are letting on, making things even more complex." The Specter waved away the thought of going deeper into the story with his hand. "I understand the point you are trying to make though. It does leave me with a few questions though. If God has no absolute laws, then why are all sorts of holy books filled with them? Are they all fabrications? If they are, and the absolute rules are unacceptable, why does God not just come down and tell us? Just exactly what is God trying to accomplish?"

Gen turned his head slightly to the left, and opened his left eye wide, while squinting with the right. What would have been a perplexed look on anyone else seemed to the Specter to be him making two sets of observations at once. One eye open to see everything, and the other squinting to examine only the smallest detail. He dropped his cigarette into his coffee cup, and it produced a slight hiss as it went out.

All expression left Gen's face for a moment, and he leaned back, obscuring his eyes with his sunglasses. He raised his finger and held it there, as if asking for the Specter to wait for his answer. For a few minutes, they both sat in expressionless silence. Gen then moved his raised finger and briefly pointed it at the Specter When he spoke, his French accent was gone, and his voice sounded different. He spoke Arithmetically, mispronouncing some of his words, and putting inflections on the wrong syllables of others.

"Explain the actions of God to man. Ha ha," he laughed, but there was no humor in his voice. "Such a thing is like trying to explain color to the blind, or sound to the deaf. I can no more explain why God does what God does any more that you can explain to me how a rose smells."

Gen's presentation made it clear that even though he appeared to be a man, whatever he was, he most certainly was not human. The chaos that he had seen swirling about this being's eyes wasn't madness, it was simply something that was beyond his ken. It was awe inspiring and frightening at the same time. The Specter nodded, and smiled, ever so slightly. Gen smiled back and shrugged. He returned to his pseudo-French accent when he spoke, but this time it sounded authentic and did not vary.

"I can however, explain some of where humanity has acquired 'God's Law.' Here's a question for you: Does it strike you as odd that God would have created so much passion and life ensconced in the grip of the act lovemaking, and then tell people they couldn't do it, that it was surrounded in sin and not life?"

The Specter quirked up an eyebrow before answering, "Didn't you just say you can't explain God? Sounds about par for the course to me."

Gen shook his head, "God is complex. The surface of His (or Her, or even Its if you prefer) being has more depth than a thousand oceans, but God has a constant. God makes sense. That level of idiocy I just described? That's not God's work. That's the kind of inane bullshit that only humanity has the ability to come up with. It's actually quite fascinating from an outsider's perspective.

"But I do digress. Many years ago there was a man who was about to be overcome by his own lust. Good old kind-hearted concerned God goes to him, and says, 'Hey, be careful not let your loins get the best of you.' The man, who has just had his mind blown by speaking with God, goes and tells his brothers and sisters about the experience. They immediately interpret this simple word of God as 'lust is a bad thing.' This in turn makes sex a bad thing, but a necessary evil. Soon looking at a woman the wrong way has become a sin, and because man has a horrible time accepting that the fault may be his own coupled with a wonderful need to oppress things, the woman who walks in an alluring way is the one at fault, and deemed less of a person."

"So," the Specter asked, sitting up in his chair, "If there are no ironclad rules, does that mean that there is no judgment when we pass?"

Gen took off his sunglasses and set them on the table, and then clasped his hands, leaning forward on the table.

"There is judgment. Not just when you pass, but always, before and after, but God is oft-forgiving, and most merciful. He made you, and He knows you, better than you know yourself. He sees your difficulties, and all of the intricacies, chemical imbalances, hopes, dreams, fears, and faults, and takes it into consideration. It's a dynamic process," Gen explained, wiggling his fingers, "While there is no one set of rules, there is one blanket rule that covers most situations. It's the one that appears time and time again across most religious texts that isn't marred by the eccentricities of man. Probably the best paraphrase of it would be something along the lines of, 'Don't be an ass.'"

The Specter laughed, and Gen chuckled shortly after. It felt good to laugh. He wondered how long it had been since he'd genuinely been amused to the point of laughter. He couldn't remember. He suspected he might never have. For a moment the yoke around his neck that bore the weight of the world was lifted and he felt alive again. Gen reached across the table and grabbed his shoulders.

"Look," he said, looking into the Specter’s eyes "I realize you have very little. You work tirelessly to save a world that you can never again have a place in, but you have to live. See a sunrise, walk through a rainstorm, kiss a pretty girl. That's what it's all about. Life shouldn't ever be an onus, it should be an adventure. If the world can't afford you that, then the world doesn't deserve to be saved."

Gen stood up and threw a few dollars on the table to cover the two coffees. He looked up at the cloudless sky, and his expression grew grim.

"The storm is coming soon," he said, walking away from his chair and out of the bistro patio. He stopped for a moment, and then looked back down at the Specter, "if you don't have anyone or anything to hold on to, it will wash you away. Don't be afraid to ask God for help if you need it."

"Oh, yeah," the Specter replied, smiling as his cynicism got the best of him, "God's been a great help so far. At the rate He's going, if I ask for any more, he may trip me and kick me while I'm down."

"Food for thought," Gen called out, as he vanished into the crowd, "When was the last time you actually asked God for help?"

The Specter couldn't remember that either. He took another sip of his cold bitter coffee, and winced again.

System

2011-07-08T22:37:00.001-07:00

Well, now,
what have you heard,
when the past placid promises,
are now fast flaccid words.

So ring out and bring,
the hail to the king,
while his fingers faux prose
his shadows will sing.

And the backs of the lower,
is where we will dine,
as we've bred you consumers,
to keep you in line.

And you call us the villains,
and you cry and you whine,
but you'll ruin to those beneath you,
to save a few dimes.

So let's throw into battle,
for left or the right,
accept no shades of grey,
it's black or it's white.

And have no shaking hands,
we'll disband compromise,
claim the middle won't work,
so we must polarize.

So let's shut out the Sun,
and dampen the night,
and slight even ourselves,
to ensure that we're right.

'Cause what's good for the gander,
is great for the goose,
just don't realize you're neither,
or you might find you lose.

Rusty

2011-04-22T11:24:00.000-07:00

My best is gone now

my prowess squandered

hope wanders

behind so distant

it stumbles blindly

come find me!

My withered spirit

is eminating

self loathing

whatever happened

to the man whose insight

lit dark nights

I still have something

the shattered edges

sharp ledges

they cut my fingers

but I'm still climbing

no whining

The path is set now

no longer falling

risk calling

one last adventure

no longer aimless

or graceless

Poetry

2011-04-18T23:59:00.001-07:00

Rhyming makes the bard

and metaphors are the door's key

Poetry's not hard

I'll show you all, you'll see

Poetry is the wind in the sails

of the submarine of damnation

it's the chorus of silence

that solves a negative number of equations

in a land of nothing but sand and rocks

it is the grilled cheese sandwich of elation

That's all it takes to be grand

The majestic wordsmith maestro

and when people don't understand

Just claim you're literary Picasso

Hero

2011-04-17T23:03:00.000-07:00

It's not about strength

because no amount of muscle is needed to achieve it

It's not about intelligence

you can read a thousand books and still miss it

It's not about bravery

as you can do it as your heart pounds with fear

It's about integrity, dedication, and commitment

knowing the biggest wall in front of you is disbelief

and fully comprehending the gravity of the task ahead

not cutting corners even where its accepted

when your goal is unbelievably distant

yet you still put one foot in front of the other

It's about going on

when no one would blame you for stopping

walking steadily into the maw of defeat

without trepidation, or resignation

when all of hope is not lost

because there was never hope to be had

Those who can will be the ones remembered

not Alan and Sally in administration

who were too worried about the risks

to consider it anything other than a lost cause

Apathy

2011-04-16T19:14:00.001-07:00

I don't feel like writing today

please go away, I've nothing to say

I don't feel like writing today.

My heart has gone and disappeared

doesn't strike me as weird, just as I feared

just simply gone and disappeared

I'm left with nothing to feel,

it seems so unreal, my chest cold as steel,

it doesn't even hurt to not feel

My soul's silence echoes no plea

I'm no longer me, he's gone off to flee

too distant to echo his plea

and the silence longs for no sound

I've gone all around, and all I have found

historical references to the beauty of sound

my body longs to be still

it has had its fill, no longer finds thrill

and now wants to rest and be still

and the world ever calls out so

still you must go, you're moving to slow

Oh, how I wish it weren't so.

And Why Not? It worked in Blazing Saddles.

2011-04-15T23:48:00.000-07:00

And who do you see

it's only just me

nothing else with that statement

(not even parentheses)

So what do I do

but stand and stare

and sit sometimes too

in a comfortable chair

now time to hang loose

and cook a nice DiGiorno

If there's nothing on the tube

why not rent a porno?

And so, it appears

I've missed the time

and in tune with my fears

I'm passed my prime

So drive down to the mall

to see inappropriate flirts

why do we line the halls

with teens in short skirts?

And while on the subject

a law we can enhance

no one wears any outer garments

with less cloth than my underpants.

The rain comes down outside

sometimes sounding like

a cobbled together

staccato wind

Procrastination

2011-04-14T21:28:00.000-07:00

So many distractions

so few worthwhile endeavors

I'd start one right now

if it wouldn't take forever

but the flowers are blooming

and the birds are all tweets

and the hearts are a booming

as the bodies are between sheets

And running are the trains

with so many places to go

to the mind it shoes strain

when we're forced to go slow

and the stories without number

release reality's restraint

and their grand verses encumber

our lives which are quaint

And I didn't stop to plan

not one moment did I wait

now the shit has hit the fan

as I am running late

So many things

prepared upon the line

I'd have gotten them done

if I started on time

Phantom

2011-04-13T21:27:00.000-07:00

He is contained in darkness
making no sound
speaking no word
he has no muscle to move
but I cannot escape him

As I walk the streets
on warm, sunny days
he rides in my shadow
his bony, frigid hands
grasping fervently for my ankles
hoping for just enough grip
to pull me down into
the darkness I create
when I blot out the light

Beset upon
by the foul stench of his presence
I can only contemplate
an eternity of this torment
He was short lived
and ever longer dead
and any and all attempts
to give back to him his life
through word or deed
are met with inquisitions
to whether or not he truly lived

His existence is my eternal onus
In no way can my folly be undone
And so forever must I endure
my mistake

The Night Sky

2011-04-12T21:28:00.000-07:00

Oh the night sky

seems more content than I

the stars are all alight

and the moon shines so bright

nothing bothers the night sky

aside from the occasional cloud passing by

but beware the content illusion

for darkness only breeds delusion.

The Divine's Apology

2011-04-11T19:45:00.000-07:00

I'm sorry I didn't hold your hand,
through everything,
that I didn't make your life warm sunshine,
and misty carefree rainbows.

I'm sorry that I want you to feel pain,
to suffer and be cut down,
So that you can grow up, stand on your feet,
and know what it means to not be able to.

I'm sorry that I Had to show you,
soul charring loss,
in order to show you the true value,
of simple gains.

I'm sorry I gave you emotion,
for you seem to obsess with how you are broken,
instead of realizing you have the strength,
to triumph over your shortcomings.

I'm sorry that when I told you,
"I'll always be with you,"
you assumed that I would ensure,
that I would solve all your problems.

I'm sorry that when you look back,
on your walk through existence,
and see one set of footprints behind you,
that you assume I was absent.

I'm doubly sorry when you assume,
that those are my footprints,
and I was carrying you,
because you were too weak to walk.

You weren't.

It was by your own will that you survived your turmoils,
those lonely footprints are the war drum beats
of the endurance of the human heart,
a testament to the divine mold you were cast from.

I was always at your side,
encouraging your steps,
but you did the work.
Had I carried you it would have been an insult,
to the quality of my craftsmanship.

So I am sorry if what I have done,
is too far beyond your understanding,
I'm sorry that you focus on your life's burdens,
instead of reveling in its adventures.

Chains of Order

2011-04-10T21:40:00.000-07:00

If you don't let go and allow me to be free,
this empty shell is what you'll get from me.

No passion, caring, love or thought,
goes in to this creation you have wrought.

This lifeless act, this wicker stage,
is a closed book with but an empty page.

when you put garbage in, you'll get garbage out,
Surrounded by rain, this farce is a drought.

Your orders are rules that hold no law,
so let's end this now, and call it a draw.

It's not me you want, is what most bemuses,
unconcerned for my body, or psychological bruises.

So cut this one loose and let it be free,
And perhaps you'll delight when you truly meet me.

Summer

2011-04-09T19:34:00.000-07:00

A warm breeze
the tall trees
the quick freeze
of a cold stream

The hot sun
unending fun
with loved ones
Eating ice cream

The park grass
a pretty lass
not too high class
the perfect team

The evening sky
a ravens cry
the angels lie
on a moon beam

A wishing well
a flower's smell
a season's spell
a happy dream

The Fall of Lucifer: Vanitas

2011-04-08T17:32:00.001-07:00

The charge he knew was treason,
the weightiest of crimes,
the length of his sentance,
eons beyond the end of time.

This did not shake him very much,
At first he was not too unnerved,
and he braced himself for what was come,
his punishment well deserved.

But there was no holy fire,
no pillory or heavy chain,
though he screamed aloud for it,
there was no physical pain.

No agony to distract his mind,
no escape from his prison was known,
the truth was that his only burden,
was to be unconditionally alone.

So through nothingness he flew,
old songs of worship he did sing,
of the glory of his Father,
as the chill of the void did sting.

And there was not even a solemn echo,
just darkness without walls,
when his wings were too tired to carry him,
through emptiness he'd fall.

Cruel irony pollutes his mind,
with an eternity to contemplate,
how his acts paralleled those of man,
now blasphemous as those he did hate.

With so much time to erode his thoughts,
empty eternity his banishment,
he wonders if he was right to challenge a God,
whom would bestow to anyone this punishment.

The Fall of Lucifer: Virtus

2011-04-07T22:46:00.001-07:00

So marched unyielding Lucifer,
Morning star brightly shining,
his need for order did ensure,
angel's blood as heaven's lining,

His soul, forged of fire pure,
caused his skin to blister,
as he fearlessly charged against,
his brother and his sister,

"Look at the lord," He cried, and cried,
"put his word to the test,
All too soon you'll surely see,
all I long for is what's best."

One by one his allies fell,
his vanguard torn asunder,
by will alone he forged a path,
when the others did surrender,

Finally, In his own warped mind,
could be seen the true beauty,
his vigor was by far the greatest,
the masterpiece of his Deity.

And those who survived him,
speak the truth of what they know,
of his eyes of false purpose,
and terrible wrath filled woe.

To the throne he marched,
And all of heaven did quake,
Only when he saw the tears of God,
did he finally see his mistake,

For forgiveness, he did plead,
for grace, and understanding he asked,
for how could he follow so blindly,
when not fully comprehending the task.

Verbally the answer was silence,
so again his heart did swell,
And he pondered then his fate,
when from the heavens he fell.

Now the scholars will all laugh,
And the poets only can cry,
to have seen God's beautiful creation,
His majesty gone awry.

The Fall of Lucifer: Veritas

2011-04-06T22:21:00.001-07:00

So the one who was made perfect,

and under only the Sun would shine,

was called forward to kneel,

by the Righteous Divine.

But when the charge was seen,

the great creation corrupt,

he saw no need to kneel,

before the morally bankrupt.

They're called to make peace,

and to praise God on high,

but their souls were wicked,

and their worship a lie.

Their hearts were impure,

as their own flesh they rend,

and God asked for to bow,

and on knee to bend,

How can one be humble,

and lay down before,

all the ones so unholy,

scoffing at divine law.

The truth did elude him,

and caused his heart to swell,

so he searched for the answers,

on the mountains, and in wells.

No answers he could find,

no answers save but one,

the Lord must be fallible,

His divinity undone.

So he called out to anyone,

and found those among his peers,

who saw no truth in their orders,

who echoed his fears.

Structure must be preserved,

and now God must be felled,

as Heaven would surely crumble,

if order were not upheld.

So he looked unto his Father,

with sobs and with regret,

for now he was forced to challenge,

the one he owed his debts.

But one path shone through tears,

trepidation no more,

and he sadly raised his horn,

to call Heaven to war.

Nonsense

2011-04-05T22:50:00.001-07:00

On the cold windswept plains of the fiery desert,

an incorrigible iconoclast assembled irrelevant dictations,

while the hard, cracked soil was soft and comforting,

beneath newly rested and tired feet.

Stumbling in the stillness of the dark,

Gathering bearings by only the brightest of dim flames,

the harrowing journey comfortably carried on,

for years at a time.

How can we do anything but wander,

when our sun, shining bright enough to burn skin,

cannot act as our compass,

to the darkness brought on by knowing the truth,

or learning that one can never fully understand it.

A fully understood vagueness varies,

as the visceral viciousness of vivacity,

drives a dearth of distinguishment,

through an egregious chiasm of miasma.

And on the journey of a thousand thoughts,

bearing an absence of any and all words,

once is forced to stop while pressed to move,

and asked to unravel and otherwise decode,

the mystery of dress slacks.

Hubris

2011-04-04T20:32:00.000-07:00

An echo of love once spoke to me,

from the darkness of eternity,

of bonds of kinship formed in steel,

quickly dissolved in a fit of zeal,

when a one whose loyalty claimed everlong,

was met in passing by the slightest wrongs.

In response a call went out to the sky,

demands of justice six feet high,

for sacrifice and suffering he did live,

oft more than he had he would gladly give,

but now a trial needed to be heard,

for he could not tolerate the offensive word.

An apology was demanded at once,

for what was claimed a horrid affront,

But no sooner was it asked then it was received,

but it evaporated in the air, so not retrieved.

Since words are worthless as a cold, dark sun,

the man requested aggregious retribution.

The response was given, violent and swift,

no compensation given to seal this rift,

They then both turned and walked away,

and spoke no more after that day,

From then on whenever they encountered another,

they spoke only of the offenses of their brother,

When asked of the other, they always lied,

and said there was no peace, even though they tried,

As ages past, and their bones dried,

they thought of each other and always cried,

No reconciliation given, as foolish pride,

ensured they never met again, until one died.

Spirit

2011-04-03T21:00:00.001-07:00

Down on the pavement

bleeding, bruised, and now swelling

I stared at my foe.

Throughout my body,

the violent spikes of pain

distort his visage

Every movement,

or involuntary twitch,

burning agony

Over beaten bone,

and surrendering sinew,

pain sings out in fire

It must be over

the agony burns my thoughts

my mind fills with ash

And if I could stand

I possess no strategy

defeat is my tomb

My limbs atrophy

yet something still stirs inside

whispering madness

Ringing fills my ears

and the whispers have no words

but they have passion

All goals disappear

rationale evaporates

just sheer will remains

Before I can think

I am on my feet again

the pain is too much

the world stops briefly

then the drive ignites the pain

its flames are my fuel

He sees the process

amazed and in awe of it

the dead man rising

quickly our eyes meet

for the slightest of moments

the battle pauses

We smile with privilege

glimpsing a humanity

more than physical

Noir

2011-04-02T22:02:00.001-07:00

As a siren cries in the distance

a single man walks the night

along an empty city street

as the cloudy remnants of newly finished rain,
spread veinly across the sky
like a moth eaten curtain trying to hide the moon
which casts a pall lifeless gray over the ichor of the wet city street.

A solitary street lamp flickers violently before popping,
desperatley trying for one last attempt to assist the moon
to bring light to these dark, wet corners,
that even on the brightest day
never seem to get enough light.

As the man keeps walking,
Steam slowly flows out of a grate
by the corner of a nearby building,
the breath of the city itself
sighing at the loneliness of the street.

A few dead leaves line the wet, trash filled streets,
markers of the life that this night no longer seems present,
while a slight foul odor oozes out of a nearby alleyway,
but is all but carried away by a late autumn wind.

The man keeps walking,
as he knows he must.
He's one of the few left in these parts to cast light,
though mortal eyes cannot see it.
Still, his motives lie buried deep
in a forgotten pocket of an empty wallet.

This dark, wet city houses millions.
Though no soul can be seen now,
The man knows it is but brick and mortar
between him and its people
and yet still, as he walks the night in search of answers
he is impossibly alone.

Woe

2011-04-01T21:12:00.000-07:00

Woe unto Sinners!
Languish the to the Lechers Lost in Lust,
Their hearts blindfolded by genetic breed.
Grieve for the Greedy, and the Gluttonous,
Striving to fill emptiness' pit with greed.
Sing Sorrow softly for souls so Slothful,
Shackled without purpose like an ever growing weed.
Weep for the Wicked warped with Wrath's Will,
Their anger driven hard, spurs on Fear's steed.
Evoke elegies of empty empathy for those of envy,
Driven solely by visions of only earthly need.
Pity the people pressed by Pride Persistently,
Stocking blindly the value on one's own deed.

Woe unto sinners!
Morosely mourn their malicious afflictions,
but elicit no effort to understand the condition!
Drown dutifully their dreams in the dooming depth of darkness.
Sear softly sincere smiles from your slippery subconscious.
Know not their nervousness nursed by their false starts,
Along with All of the happy hope held by their hearts.
Beware the budding beauty in them briefly running wild,
Careful and Carefree chasing a cherished child.
Join not in the jubilance from any Jaunty jest.
Never weep woefully for the wails that weigh upon their breast!
Cast off and crush the cloak of their camaraderie,
and intensely ignore the impending implications of humanity.
For if you never nudge yourself anywhere near,
and righteously rigorously rue them,
you'll never have to face the frightful fear,
that maybe you too are human.

Duke Burger

2011-02-12T18:48:00.000-08:00

I went down to the store today to throw down some cash on the Duke Nukem Forever: Balls of Steel edition. Once the preorder was done, I knew I had to celebrate the momentous occasion of Duke Nukem Forever being released, so I began what is to become a two month long revelry in celebration of the the Duke.

The first thing I decided to do to celebrate, as inspired by the forums at http://www.dukenukem.com was to cook the manliest burger I could imagine, a burger worthy of Duke Nukem himself. Now, While the official Duke burgers are ground from only the freshest, softest, puppy meat available, I felt the authorities might frown on doing so, So I improvised. Ladies and Gentlemen, I bring you the Duke Burger:

Duke Burger Recipe
Makes Two Burgers

1 lb Ground beef
1/4 pint Stout Beer (Guinness)
1/8 Pint Tonic Water
1 Shitload of Cumin
1/4 cup hot sauce (or more, to suit)
1/8 cup Cayenne Pepper, Garlic Salt mix - "Adam Spice"
1/4 cup Diced Onion
1/4 cup Diced Green Pepper
16 Slices of Bacon
8 Slices of Cheddar/Mozzarella Mixed Cheese
2 Sizable Kaiser Rolls
2 (or three) eggs
Bread Crumbs

Note that the pictures reflect that I used twice as much as the ingredients state (Four Burgers worth.) You can always double up if you're feeling extra hungry.

First, mix the ground beef, stout beer, tonic water, hot sauce, Adam Spice, and Cumin into a Glass Baking dish, and let it marinate in the fridge for about half of an hour. If you're not a fan of stout beer, or if your the kind that prefers to go bouncing about in skirts, you can use some other girlie beer, like Budweiser or Zima. If you're not a fan of the spicy ingredients, you can always choose not to use them. Of course, you can always also strap on a tampon and to chat it up with the girls at the salon while getting your hair done, too.

It's always nice to have your meat in a moist place.
While you're waiting for the meat to marinate, Cook the bacon until it's about half done, and dice up 8 strips (half) of it. Once you're done, you can dice up the peppers and onions. If you cry while cutting the onions, this is a sure sign that you're not manly enough for the Duke Burger. If that happens, just go ahead and throw out the marinating meat and watch a Sex in the City Marathon. If you're actually a man, though, you can go ahead and mix the onions and the peppers together.

Cut them like they were Emo.
While you continue waiting, have another beer, to assist in generating a nice flow while you cook.

Right before the meat is done marinating, warm the oven up to three hundred fifty degrees. When the meat is done, throw it in the oven for 10 minutes. Make sure you stir it every two minutes, as your intent is not too cook it, but to cook the rest of the marinade into the meat.

If your meat is burning, it may be time to see a doctor
Once the meat is done absorbing the marination, take it out of the oven, and mix in the eggs and breadcrumbs until you have a nice burger consistency. Once you've done that, split the meat it into quarters.

Evenly mix a quarter of your diced bacon into each quarter of the meat.

Take a five minute break and crack into another beer, you're working too hard. Have a cigar, if one's handy.

Once you've mixed in the bacon, form the meat into two ashtray shapes slightly larger than the kaiser rolls. These will serve as the bottoms of your burgers.

Don't ash in your burgers...unless you want ULTIMATE FLAVOR.
Lay one slice of cheese in the meat, and then add half of the onion/pepper mix into each of the burgers.

Insert "stuffing meat" joke here.
Lay another slice of cheese on top of the onions and peppers. I laid my cheese to form a six pointed star. This is to be the Jewish Star of David, to symbolize Duke's cultural sensitivity.

You want the Cheese? YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE CHEESE!
Once the cheese and peppers are in the burger, form the remaining two quarters into lids for the bottoms, and mold them onto the burgers. Then, start warming up your favorite seasoned cast iron pan to right about medium high. If you don't have a seasoned cast iron pan, you can always abandon the project and go down to McDonalds and order yourself a "McPanties."

RAW MEAT
Once the Pan's warmed up, throw a Burger in, cover the pan, and let it sit for five minutes. After five minutes, flip the burger over and cook the other side for five minutes, to develop a slight "flavor burn" on either side. If there's no clock handy, you can always bang one of your nearby coed twins, flip the burger, and then go bang the other.

Ooh, Burn!
By this point, your beer's empty. Crack open another.

Once you've singed both sides of the burger, Flip the burger over and throw four strips of bacon into the pan (or all 8 if you have a cast Iron Pan big enough to cook both burgers at once.) Proceed to cook each side of the burger twice more, flipping two minutes, removing the bacon when it is done. Once this once you have finished, lay a slice of cheese on top of the burger, then the cooked bacon, and then another slice of cheese, and cover for a minute, until the cheese has melted.

HOLY SHIT.
Place the burger on the roll and garnish as desired.

It's time to kick ass and chew Duke Burgers. If you can't finish the Duke burger, don't worry. In the extra time you have from not eating the rest, you can always hop on the Internet and look up local yoga classes that have a space big enough to accommodate your unnaturally large vagina.

Damn, I'm cookin' good.

Conversations With a Light Bulb.

2011-01-29T17:59:00.000-08:00

It's been a bit of a rough day.

I got up around around 7:45 AM, as I had a car inspection scheduled for nine. Of course, if you knew me, you would know that my name and the words "morning person" don't quite fit into a sentence without the word "not" between them. But, despite the best of intentions, my wonderful sense of procrastination, coupled with poor weather, had managed to arrange my inspection scheduling on a Saturday, my day off, three days before it was due.

My car's inspection managed to total to just under $600. While I had managed so save up slightly more than that beforehand, it was depressing to have to pay so much, as I had already decided on many other places that the money would be better suited for. Even though I was technically under budget, it was upsetting to have to let go of so much of my money at once. Being a responsible adult, I decided to deal with my frustrations in the most efficient way I could imagine. I pretty much went directly from the garage to the liquor store. I picked up a bottle of the second least finest cherry-flavored vodka,(on sale for $9.99!) and headed home for a nice quiet evening of solitude and reflection. Three quarters of the bottle and several hours later, I realized I needed to wash a load of laundry sooner rather than later, so grabbed the laundry basket and headed into the basement to throw it in.

Now, being a philosophical man by nature, while I was carrying the laundry basket downstairs, I once again began to ponder just exactly what it was that God wants for us. The usual theme for these thoughts, as of late, is that God wants us to experience the adventure of life, with emphasis on love. Since that's been the recent theme, that is where my mind went first - the adventure. My mind reeled to places it has visited before, the joys of climbing the metaphorical mountain, of overcoming the tasks set before you, even when you don't want to. It paged over all of the knowledge gained through events that I would have rather not participated in, but am now a better person because of. In spite of this, I sill always wrestle with the fact that I will fear the unknown, in spite of how much I have grown because of it. As much as I know and understand its value, given the option, I would rather avoid it.

The reason for my avoidance of the adventure is that at some point during it, we all must suffer. So I began to wonder about why we suffer. If God were all powerful, no one would have to suffer. The question is, then, why do we? The only conclusion I could find was the realization that God does not allow us to suffer, he has built us to. Coming down the stairs, to the basement, the thought seemed so profound to me. We were built to suffer, maybe not as a primary purpose, but it was still part of the design. The profundity of the thought stopped me in my tracks. Immediately after I stopped, the basement light flickered, adding immeasurable weight to the thought that has just occurred.

"Really?" I thought, looking over at the light, as I continued walking again. The light bulb flickered once more, as if in agreement.

I loaded my clothes into the washing machine, in silence. According to a flickering light bulb, (and my drunkenness) God built us to suffer. The question of "why" turned over in my head, as I loaded the clothes into the machine. I wanted a more definite answer, but I was afraid that if I asked for one, I would be met with nothing, leading to the whole ordeal being just coincidence. I quietly continued to load the washing machine. Finally, my desire to know the truth outweighed my need for faith. I looked over at the light bulb and challenged it.

"To what purpose?" I inquired aloud, looking directly at the bulb itself, wondering why God would build us to suffer.

The bulb entered into what I can only describe as a shit fit. It flickered for a moment or two, before turning completely off for a couple of seconds, and then back on. Now I must add that it had flickered at no other time, setting any kind of precedent for a wonky bulb. It seemed to respond to my thoughts and questions. So what is the answer? We suffer because God built us to. Why? I don't know. I don't speak light bulb.

===

After I had written this, I went back downstairs, to throw the clothes back in the dryer, and to see if the light would flicker anymore. While I was loading the clothes into the dryer, the light flickered, and then went out completely. As logic dictates, I chalked the whole situation up to coincidence.

Once the clothes were into the dryer, I walked over to the bulb and tapped it. It came back on. When it came back on, I looked straight ahead and noticed a (very faded) peace sign on the wall, half obstructed by a shelf. I turned around a let the light bulb know that it was a total dick, but I loved it anyway.

Beautiful Synergy

2010-06-06T20:28:00.000-07:00

I saw the most bizarre thing today at walmart. The lady in front of me and the cashier had the most warped and unnecessary dialog that I've heard from adults. The dialog sounded like the entire thing was acted out by children, who were pretending they were at a grocery store, saying what they thought adults would say at a cash register.

It went Something like this:

Lady: These paper towels are on sale for $1. I got them from the display over there, which said they were on sale for $1.
Guy (ringing up towels, sounding genuinely pleased): Yes, you're right. They are $1.
Lady: And these sponges are 73 cents each.
Guy (ringing up sponges and a scrunchie:) I will put the sponges in the bag with your scrunchie. That will be a good idea.
Lady (fumbling through her purse): I hope I have an extra dime if this goes ten cents over.

They proceeded to talk like this until he was done ringing things up. She then hands him a stack of coupons, and proceeds to tell him as he scans them, exactly what each coupon is for, down to the specifics of, "I get $1 discount, because I bought three of these." When they were done, they thanked each other for the pleasant conversation, both seeming genuinely pleased to have had it.

It was the most bizarre, weird, off-kilter synergy between people I've ever seen. I suppose it just goes to show, that God has sown beauty into all things. It's just not often enough that you see such interesting - yet crazy - intricacies of His work.

What it is.

2010-05-24T23:19:00.000-07:00

I have a grudge.

The grudge is against the statement, "It is what it is." The phrase is total crap. It is not what it is. It is what you make of it, unless you have surrendered to it. "It is what it is," is the mantra of the slave.

DO NOT BE A SLAVE - not to a man, or a God, or anything in between!

Do what you must because you choose to, not because you're told it's the right thing to do, or because someone else forces you to. If you're not acting of your own volition, your actions are worthless.

Do not let fear rule your life. The line between those who find true success and mediocrity is the courage to continue on. The strong are not strong and the smart are not smart simply because that is the way things are. They are the ones who have taken the time to learn and grow. They had the time, dedication, and courage to proceed until they have achieved what they have.

Call to God, and He shall walk with you. He is not your dictator, he is your father. Follow him because you choose, not because your commanded. Do what you must because you know it's right, not because you are told. If you are wrong, he will understand. He is love. He knows you will fall. He will be there when you do.

The key is to not be afraid of failure, and to have patience. We will all fall, all suffer, and all be humiliated. Those who rush back up to find a safe spot to avoid falling again are the ones who will suffer the worst. Those who fall, and then look at the ground below them to learn why they have fallen, and embrace their own shortcomings and press on, those are the ones who succeed.

God Almighty (Part 2): In the Garden of Eden

2010-05-14T23:36:00.000-07:00

We all (pretty much) know the story of the Garden of Eden: God creates man and woman, and thrusts them into paradise. He lets them do as they please, except for one rule: Do not eat from the Tree of Knowledge*A*. They abide by this rule for awhile, and then are tempted by the serpent to break it. They do so, and God casts them out of paradise to suffer and toil, to have their knowledge kill them*B*.

Simple Enough.

But God is all powerful, isn't He? Doesn't the bible also make Him out to be omnipresent and otherwise omniscient? This brings to mind several very pressing questions:

Why did God put the tree of the knowledge in the Garden of Eden? Why did God allow the serpent into the garden? How did the serpent have the knowledge of good and evil? Why did God make no effort to stop the serpent from tempting us? Once we had eaten of its fruit, if he truly loved us and wanted us to be happy, why did he not just simply strip us of the knowledge and remove the tree so we could remain in the garden?

Two possible answers spring to mind:

1: God's a Dick. (Not very likely, unless you're religious)

2: God wanted us to eat of the tree.

He put the tree in the garden because he knew we would eat of it. He allowed the serpent*C* into the garden to tempt us, because he knew we would take the bait. Why? Because the unexamined life is not worth living. Would you choose a life of ignorant bliss over knowledge? It's easy to say you would, but in the end, it's the ability to fall and learn from the fall that gives life value. Imagine day in and day out the same thing over and over again. What kind of life is that, with no struggle, and with no worthwhile triumph over it?

On top of that, God gave us one of the most worthwhile gifts: the ability to choose for ourselves. Once we consumed the fruit, we were given a *very* strange option: the ability to turn from loving God. Now that we have the knowledge, we can choose to throw Him away if we so choose. This makes our love of Him worthwhile. We are not mindless robots loving him because we are told, we love him because we choose to.

When you look at it from the perspective of God being all powerful, the Garden of Eden story stops being a story of God booting us to the curb because we were bad, and starts being a story of a creator's true love for His creation: To let us go, to let us suffer and grow from that suffering all on our own, and to bring joy to the Lord because when we love him, it's because we choose to, and that is meaningful, and not just blind, love.

Subplot *A*
The Knowledge of Good and Evil:
What defines a sin? In the simplest of terms, it's defiance of the will of God. To do other than what God would want you to, is a Sin. Eating of the fruit gave us knowledge that there was a way that was other than what God feels is best for us.

Subplot *B*
If you eat of the tree, you shall surely die:
God tells Adam and Eve that eating of the tree will cause them to die. What does this mean? It means once they eat of the tree, a meaningful existence can occur. They now have choices. They can progress in their life, which has truly begun, now that they have knowledge. Now they are not mindless shells. Now that it has a beginning, it will have an end too.

Subplot *C*
The Serpent in the Garden:
The serpent, Ha-Satan, or even the devil have one thing in common:
But what is it? More in part three!

God Almighty (Part 1?): The Death of Jesus

2010-05-13T22:45:00.000-07:00

There are hundreds of pages of the teachings of Jesus that are at least as important, if not more important, than his crucifiction. This is the reson why it seems bizzare to me that in a house that is dedicated to him and his Father, instead of one of the many examples of love, peace, and forgivness that he preached, we symbolize his most painful and violent moment. How do you think Jesus feels about the fact that we symbolize him through his dead or dying body, in his last, painful moments?

How would you feel if it were you?

Now, I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, "Ray, Jesus died for our sins. It is in his death that we are forgiven, and we symbolize it to show everything Jesus sacrificed for us."

Now, that's a great sentiment, but I'm calling bullshit.

God is Almighty, all powerful, omnipotent. Even, for some reason, He were not, I'm going to take a risk here and say that a being powerful enough to create life doesn't need to have any life destroyed in order to forgive, least of all his own son's. He could simply just do so.

He's God after all, isn't He?

So what, then, would be God's reason for allowing Jesus to die in such a way? There had to be a reason, didn't there? The bible seems to make it clear that Jesus not only knew what was coming, but had the power to prevent it, but made no move to do so.

Why?

To show us that his word meant so much that he was willing to die for it. That it was a Word so true, so valid, that it was better to die for it, then spend the rest of his life running from authority (on the lamb?) to preach it. As such, the crucifiction of Christ is not the main statement of the New Testament, it is the exclamation point at the end, meant to say with emphasis, This is the way!

To oversimplify. it's God's way of letting us know that the simple fact that the things that are worth the most in life, the things truly worth having or being a part of, require sacrifice.

(It's also a much better ending than, "Jesus did the whole love and forgivness thing for the next 20 or so years, and then retired in Nevada, popping back up to do the occasional show in Vegas.")

Dynamics.

2010-05-02T22:37:00.000-07:00

So, on Saturday at Transform, we attended a Taizé service at the chapel. To overgeneralize, Taizé is basically worship, but it's short songs of about three lines or so sung over and over, similar to a mantra.

Now, worship has always been hit or miss for me, where I either feel it or I don't, and the deciding factor for me usually is the words/melody, and whether I like them, or know them. Since Taizé is very simplistic, it was incredibly easy to pick up the words, but this was different. As always, being a such man of monstrous ego, my words started off as a toneless mumble. As I became comfortable with them, the actual melody started to form, and sharp consonants made their way in as well, turning the mumble into a song. As it repeated, my voice grew louder, and I felt empowered. I was amazed, because for the first time ever in worship, I could hear my voice start to cut over those around me. It was a really beautiful experience.

We did three songs: Cantate Domino, Da Pacem Cordium, and Nada te Turbe. The room was broken up into three sections, With one starting, and the next starting the first verse one verse after the first group, and the third group starting the first verse one verse after the second, and we all just repeated for awhile. It was easily one of the most empowering worship sessions I'd ever been to. Words simply fail to describe how much they fail to describe what I felt there.

Now special thanks goes to Lauren, who was merrily humming Da Pacem Cordium as she was packing up to head out on Sunday. If not for her, I'd have probably forgotten Taizé completley, or at least, long enough that I wouldn't be able to remember words to find these songs via Google search. I know it probably sounds strange to hear me say that I was so moved by Taizé, and then three sentences later hear me say I would have forgotten it, so I have to mention that this past weekend I've been moved by God so much that I'm sure that possibly life changing bits and pieces may be lost forever.

So when I got home I googled up the lyrics I'd found and began tracking down these songs, and I listened to them as I drove around. As I listened to Da Pacem Cordium, It seemed that the verses had three distinct "feels" to them:
(you can listen along here - look in the song clips section.)

Verse 1: Da Pacem Cordium, Da Pacem Cordium / Slow, plodding, droning, moving forward without purpouse.
Verse 2: Da Pacem / Somewhat sorrowful, sounding like the statement of a fact
Verse 3: Da Pacem / The vivacious realization and proclamation of that fact

And then it loops, creating this (almost) cycle that grows from the slow droning to the soulful end over and over again. It was weird, because I had no idea what these words meant, but as I listened to them, drawn to sing along with them, I could feel their story:

Verse 1: Da Pacem Cordium, Da Pacem Cordium / I feel alone, without God, I feel alone, without God.
Verse 2: Da Pacem / God is with us.
Verse 3: Da Pacem / God IS with us!

Shortly after I fabricated my own little story around the song, It occurred to me that it sounded like the recording, which was sung the same way we sang it, pretty much had one group always singing each of the verses. I decided to perform experiment to see if this was true. What followed next was a soul crushing 45 seconds of Da Pacem Cordium, Da Pacem Cordium, Da Pacem Cordium, Da Pacem Cordium, Da Pacem Cordium, Da Pacem Cordium over and over again, until some urge deep inside me could take it no more, broke out completely against my will a joyous "Da Pacem." Then it did it again, louder, and then louder still. My head may have had no idea what "Da Pacem" means, but my heart sure loved it.

The more I thought about it, as I switched around the verses in all sorts of orders, the more I was floored by the dynamics of a three words handful of notes. The fact that something so small and simple can be so powerful, and then cam become more powerful when you alter its form, is nothing short of a fabulous testament to the immaculate beauty of God.

And that's just one of the three. The other two have Dynamics all their own. Check them out.

EDIT: It occurs to me that I didn't put the real translation of "Da Pacem Cordium" The translation is (roughly):
Da -Give/Bestow
Pacem -Peace/Harmony
Cordium -Heart/Soul
"Give peace to the soul"

------------------------------------------------

Side note:

I was listening to the Taizé songs through my ipod's "recently added" playlist. I figured it was the safest way to listen to the songs by themselves without creating a new playlist for them. I had forgotten completley that I'd also recently added Basil Poledouris' "Rock Shop" from the Robocop soundtrack to the ipod. Oddly enough it fit in somewhat well, which is ironic, as I'd recently stumbled upon a video of Robocop director Paul Verhoeven stating that Robocop was a version of the Jesus story.

Babel

2010-05-01T21:01:00.000-07:00

Today I participated in a fascinating workshop lead by Melvin Bray and Russel Rathbun. The purpose of the exercise was to reinterpret/retell a story from the book of Genesis. We were handed sheets of paper that contained a verse from Genesis, along with Good questions to help us flesh out the story.
The story I would up with (luckily one I knew!) was the story of the Tower of Babel. At the end of the class, Melvin recorded us telling our stories (if we were willing to.) So, if not now, you should soon be able to find a copy of me reciting the following story at http://findourselves.kidcultivators.org I encourage you to go there, as I'm sure the other stories Melvin is acquiring will all be thought provoking. I know that the ones I heard recorded were all worth hearing.
So here's my translation of the Babel story. I love the way God forces upon me the juxtaposition that right after I rewrite part of the end of the Bible, I find myself rewriting part of the beginning.

Genesis 11:
Babel

Now humanity had taken it upon itself to build a tower unto heaven. This tower was to serve not only as a symbol of humanity's accomplishments, but also to be a gateway into heaven, so once again man could stand beside God. God saw the tower, and understood that humanity had the ability to achieve the impossible when they worked together, as they were truly the children of the Lord.
But the tower to heaven was not only a symbol of the humanity's ability, but also as a symbol of its arrogance, and its carelessness to undertake the construction of a tower so tall that surely the lives of people would be lost in its construction, or when it topples.
To punish humanity for its arrogance, and to protect us spiritually from entering heaven wrongfully through the wrong path, and to protect us physically from the fall from or of the tower, God took humanity and broke apart its language so that the feat could not be accomplished.
God knew the travesty of taking away humanity's ability to accomplish the extraordinary , but was brought solace in the knowledge that each new language would produce new cultures whose beauty would surpass that of any lifeless structure that man could create.

Revelation 2.18, King James Version

2010-04-30T21:30:00.000-07:00

The Book of the

REVELATION

of Jesus Christ

ver 2.18 (Cause version one was crap.)

And so it came to pass, in the man's darkest time, that man had forsaken the forgivness of the LORD, and chose instead to forgive himself.

So man turned not only from the forgivness of God, but from His word in its entirety, casting aside the book that for generations had contained the unequivical truth of the LORD.

Such departures from scripture brought debaucheries untold, from proclamations that man had divined that the world was created millions of years before God had done so, to the abomination of man lying with man, and ultimatley to man's casting out of God and his forgivness.

Instead, man chose to forgive himself and be done with the rigors of a church, or the word of the LORD.

Still, in these dark times, were there the chosen few, those who had not surrendered to man's creation of science, or any other of man's childish whims.

And they, in their fastidiousness and their righteousness, gathered daily to pray for the lost souls of the world, for they saw that it was their solemn duty to do the most they could to save their fallen brethren.

They did so through prayer.

One day, after the time of nightly prayers had begun, as the last light of the sun was leaving the sky, there came of a soft knock at the door.

The leader of the faithful stood up and cried to God, "Alleighluia!" as theie years of endless prayer had finally turned profit and brought a sinner to their door to find redemption.

The faithfull all turned, their attention fixed on the oaken doors of their church. No one moved for fear of commit an offense and scaring away their repentant visitor.

Another knock cut through the silence of the church. When it too went unanswered, the oaken door creaked open, and a man walked through.

The faithful gasped, for no matter how plain a man might appear, no one can mistake the glord of the son of the LORD, Jesus Christ.

Already on their knees, the faithful bent lower, both awed and silenced of the return of the son of God.

After a time of silence, the leader of the faithful gathered up the courage to speak:

"Lord Jesus, Son of God, savior of man, you have returned to us! We have done as you have asked, and kept your word sacred, and our hearts pure for you."

Jesus smiled lovingly, and held out his right hand, with his palm downward, and his fingers extended out. He then rocked his hand back and forth from left to right, stating, "Eh....Kind of."

The faithful gasped in awe, as fear spread quicly across their lot. The crowd shuffled, restlessly. Finally, their leader spoke:

"What could you mean, O Lord. How have we not done as you have commanded?"

Jesus put his hand on the man's shoulder, which calmed not only the man, but his followers as well.

"It is not that I do not appreciate your devotion," Jesus spoke, "It is more based around the apparent fact that you have been a little misguided.

"For I came for you, and was crucified to do so, to bring you the word of the LORD

"And that word was unconditional love for all who asked, and to help your fellow man through his plight, it was unconditional forgivness for you, and a request to extend that forgivness and love that you have received to all men, and to not be blinded by doing so by any commandment, man or God made.

"Not only did you make rules that encouraged hatred and discrimination against your fellow brothers and sisters for not following your rules, which blinded you to their plight,"

"Not only have you done so, but you have used my image and my suffering as the banner for your hatred, sealing me as the keystone in using your religion to not only ignore the plight of your fellow brothers and sisters, but to scorn them, and use my visage to attempt to deny them the forgivness and love they are freely given.

"These are the very things I suffered to prevent."

The wail of an old woman broke the silence after Jesus had spoken. "Woe unto us," she cried, "us who have wronged you so. Can we ever be forgiven?"

"Without question," Jesus replied, extending his arms outward, as if to embrace the entire goup of the faithful.

"Just as I am the son of the LORD, so to are you his sons and daughters. His infinite love for us extends to all, and grants forgiveness."

Then, as if by the commandment of the Lord himself, the faithful burst into song, lauding not only the glory of God, but the mercy of Jesus.

When the worship had finished, the leader of the faithful turned and asked a question of Jesus:

"O, great and merciful Jesus, son of God, we have waited long for your return to the Earth,"

At that statement, Jesus bowed his head slightly, and cradled his forehead in the palm of his hand.*

"Return to the Earth?" Jesus asked, moving his hand slightly so as to make eye contact with the leader, "Where would you get such a notion? How is it possible for me to return when I've nevere left?"

"But LORD!" a cry arose from the faithful, "Where have you been?"

When Jesus began speaking, his voice was but a whisper, elevating in volume as he progressed:

"I have been in the darkest trenches of humanity. Time and again, i have made myself known to man in his moments of despair.

"I am the needed phone call from a friend that prevents what could have been the end of a precious life. I have been the twinkle in the eye of a newborn babe that prevents the departure of a would-be fleet footed father. I have been the song that stirs the memory of the fact that it has been too long since you last told your loved ones that they are indeed loved. i have been both the moment of ridiculousness that diffuses the intensity of anger that would be the end of a friendship, and the humility that ensures such anger is buried and forgotten.

"I have been the wind in the sails of those who might become lost at sea.

...Where have YOU been?"

*The New International Version of the Bible translates this verse as “Jesus Facepalmed.” making it the second shortest verse in the NIV printing of the bible!

Condemn the Condemner.

2010-04-29T15:22:00.000-07:00

What if God is petty? What if he created us out of some selfish whim, for no purpouse other than to amuse and entertain Him? What if we meant so little to him that he would condemn us to suffering for eternity at the slightest offense?

Consider the implications of a God so hateful that if we do not follow his word to the letter, he would not be content with just destroying us, He would be as merciless as to prolong our existence for eternity, so that we may live in constant agony as we have disobeyed him.

Consider, also, those who cannot hear His word, or have a cultural or language barrier. They are all condemned to hell. What about those overseas, whose descendants would not hear about this God for thousands of years. More hell.

Would you follow such a God? Would you kneel down and love Him, as your creator? Could you love him legitamitley knowing his hatred, or complete disinterest, in those who cannot or do not follow Him, or would you just blindly love him for fear of being condemned?

I wouldn't love any God like that.
I'd declare war on Him.

Show Me

2009-10-31T01:00:00.000-07:00

It's amazing to come so far, to learn and grow so much, and see a tiny shard of myself, from years ago, and be absolutley amazed and also cut by my own words. Genius or Madness, you decide.

From November, 2003:

Show Me

You showed me everything
of life and beauty,
but in the end
"just doing your duty."

You could only show
what you could see,
done only to do
and not for me.

You told the truth,
you could not have lied.
Still the truth was but half;
you missed the inside.

Into your depths
I stood and stared.
You never noticed
you never cared.

One sided fool,
Vanity's spawn.
Only in darkness
could I see dawn.

You gathered friends
to shock and amuse
but I now see through
your magic trick ruse.

I see you at last
cold, reflecting core.
You see me as well
Only outside, nothing more.

Into my great fears
did you delve
for inside of you
I saw myself.

On Evolution. OR, Kirk Cameron, your heart's in the right place, but your head's up your ass. OR Jesus in six Yuenglings or less.

2009-09-22T22:39:00.000-07:00

There's a currently a video circulating the internet which stars Kirk Cameron, telling people that a few days before the anniversary of Darwin's “The Origin of the Species,” that he and his colleagues are going to be circulating a copy of the book that contains a new introduction. The video goes on to state that a large number of college professors teaching certain classes are atheists, and that Cameron and company are going to circulate this new version of the book to show our college students the opposing arguments to evolution alongside Darwin's work. The majority of the information Cameron outlines about the new introduction is just a series of ad hominem attacks against Darwin, such as he was a racist, or has ties to Hitler. By Cameron's description, it also appears that the new introduction will outline intelligent design, so that our youth will be able to figure out the correct truth, which Cameron claims is intelligent design, for themselves.

The prospect that I continually fail to understand, is why creationists can't seem to accept evolution. Creationists appear to have some deep rooted fear that any science that would question God is some kind of witchery meant to destroy religion by disproving it. This leads to a cataclysmic rift between faith and science, which spawns far too many loud arguments and far too little thoughtful debate. Religion as a whole needs to stop hindering the pursuit of scientific knowledge, because such knowledge should not be able deny or disprove faith.

As science as a whole disproving faith would be a long and complicated affair, let us simply deal with the current bane of creationists: evolution. It would appear the root of the creationists' desire to discredit evolution stems from the conclusion that if evolution were somehow confirmed, it would contradict the Bible's claims that the world is less than 10,000 years old. This can easily be refuted. If one is willing to accept that God is all powerful, and that he did indeed create the world in seven days, than one should just as easily be able to accept the fact that God would be able to create such a world with the evidence of and potential for evolution.

One could even go so far as to proclaim that God created such evidence to encourage doubt. If a world existed in which everything simply appeared overnight, there would be less reason, if any, to doubt God's existence. If faith were concrete, then it would not be faith, it would be fact. In the Bible itself, it becomes apparent that God does not want us to have indefatigable proof of God's existence. One of the most prominent instances of this resides in the fact that whenever Jesus is asked for a miracle as proof of his divinity, said miracle is not given.

A simple explanation for God's refusal to give us absolute proof of existence is perhaps stemmed from a desire for the free will of humanity. From a Christian, Jewish, or Muslim standpoint, this is evidenced by the fact that God put the tree of knowledge in the Garden of Eden. If it were the desire of God to have us all as mindless robots of love and worship, God could have easily not put the tree in the garden, or, in his omniscience, stopped us from consuming its fruit. The reason God did not do as such can be attributed to the fact that love freely given, and not earned, has little, if any, value. It stands to reason that ten people loving you for who you are is worth more than a hundred loving you because they are told to do so.

Throughout the Bible there are many instances where God is revealed to people, thus evoking a love of fact and not faith. It is important to acknowledge that while this is done from time to time, it is never done to humanity as a whole. While God does appear to some, it is only, at best, to give information and teachings to humanity; to encourage faith. Such is only done in a very centered area of the Earth, leading one to wonder why God's existence would be revealed to so few, if God's word were truly so grand. One could speculate that the reason this is done is to encourage more doubt. If European explorers had come to Asia, Africa, or America, and found the population already echoing their own religious beliefs, it would leave less reason to doubt God.

In the end, the reasoning to doubt or not doubt God is all speculation. The root of the matter lies within one's faith. If the very growing expansion of human knowledge is a threat to one's faith, then perhaps it is time to accept that faith is not a static book of be all end all rules and truths, but instead is a living, breathing organism. If faith were meant to be proven, proof would have been given to us.

A letter of Suggestion to Subway Restaurants:

2009-08-23T11:57:00.000-07:00

Dear Subway Restaurants,

My name is Raymond Adkins, and I have been eating at Subway restaurants for many years. I love your sandwiches, and the pleasantness of employees is worlds above that of other fast food chains. Overall, I am very pleased with your business. I am writing this letter because even though I love your business, there are a few small things I think that you might be able to improve on. I do apologize in advance, as I do not mean to tell you how to run your business, I am just making friendly suggestions.

My biggest concern is the amount of cheese that you put on your sandwiches. Pardon me for a hair of blasphemy here, but Jesus H. fucking God damned almighty in mother fucking heaven H. mother fucking Christ. The few tiny triangles of cheese you put on should not be advertised as “with cheese,” it should be advertised as “with implications of cheese.” Lactose intolerant people put more cheese on their sandwiches than you do. Have you never made a fucking sandwich for yourself? How much cheese do you put on there? If cheese were to outlawed tomorrow, your sandwiches would still be legal.

I know it is not an issue of cost, seeing as how you always manage to put about 12 fucking dollars worth of lettuce on every damned sandwich. I am serious here. I do not want to go though Subway soul crushing sandwich assembly line school, but I would love to learn that voodoo black magic shit that lets you cram a cubic foot of lettuce onto a six inch sub. The only drawback is once you have put that much lettuce on there, there is only enough space for about three tiny pieces of onion. Not that you will be pressed for space, as you will only put two, most likely to leave room for the pieces of broken soul that flake off of the person making the sandwich.

Also, if there any way you could speed up your employees? They all seem to move as slow as narcoleptic molasses. I realize that since cattle prodding employees became illegal, it is a tad hard to motivate employees who are making $SHIT.50 an hour. Not to be pushy, but if you cannot get the clueless bitch making my sandwich to move faster, could you at least have her wait until when they are not in the middle of fucking up my order to stop and load bread into the God damned oven? They all move so slow, it takes more time than my half hour lunch break to get a fucking cheeseless lettuce sandwich. That is why people lose weight by going to subway, there is no time to eat it.

Speaking of which, I think it's time to put the Jared advertising scheme to rest. I don't think eating your pasteurized, processed, soulless, cheeseless lettuce subs is any kind of healthy diet. As big as his fat ass was, I'm sure it was less of an “I ate subway” diet and more of a “I stopped eating at the ham hock buffet 17 times a week” diet that helped him lose the weight. Though I do admit that it can certainly help one's diet by going to subway, because every time I see a picture of that ugly bastard Jared, I lose my appetite.

In closing, thank you for taking the time to read my letter. I realize that you probably receive enough mail that it can be hard to keep up with it all, so I appreciate your hearing out my concerns. I hope you found my insight to be thought provoking or otherwise beneficial. Thank you for your time.

Sincerely,
Raymond Adkins