"And my only hope is for their daughters to be loved"

I was talking with my friend "Amy" today at work about all sorts of things in life. One conversation led to another which led to another and all the sudden we were talking about "daddy issues". Namely, girls with "daddy issues".

(For future reference, please know that when I say "daddy issues" it is not a sarcastic thing or disrespectful or anything like that. I simply do not know a better way to put it)

There are few things that have broken my heart more than hearing stories of men being terrible fathers. Some, to the point of calling them "a dad" would be doing a disservice to all the other good and present fathers out there. I have met way too many girls in my life, that still suffer from their parents divorce--or rather, an absent father.

My friend "Amy" said that from her experiences with her life (she also had an absent father/man), and meeting other girls that have been in situations like her own, she had come to the conclusion that having a really crappy dad can result in two main traits.

1. The girl becomes clingy. She just wants to be loved, is looking for something to fill the void that her father left--wether she acknowledges this or not. She may tend to give too many guys too many chances.

2. The girl becomes jaded. She does not trust men, and is terrified to put her whole heart into a relationship. She is very skeptical to let herself be satisfied with someone in a relationship.

This was at about 4pm that we had this conversation, it is now midnight and I have been thinking about this nonstop since then. And, to a certain degree, from the girls I have met in my life that have been affected by crap fathers...I think "Amy" is right. We are talking about girls with a mostly absent father here, not all girls that come from divorced homes or anything like that. We're talking about girls without fathers that play an active role in their life.

It breaks my heart more than words can describe to have personally seen some of the scars that have been left on girls's hearts who's father is not active in their life. It kills me that men can be so freaking selfish to leave their beautiful daughters out in the cold, and not give a seconds thought to what might happen to their mentality because of their leaving and their absence.

But I believe that there is healing that can occur, by God, if you let it.

I do not mean to speak out of turn here, but I can imagine that having a father that is not in your life, that left your mother and you and your family, that barely ever calls you, that is basically nonexistent...would be one of the most devastating things that could ever happen to a person. In this case, a girl. Personalities change, grudges are built, wounds are open, nothing is good because nothing ever changes. Nothing gets better in this state of just leaving it all alone and trying to forget it exists.

I believe that, that is where God could intervene if a person were to let Him. With years, I'm sure these once surface wounds of the heart erode into chasms of the soul. Chasms that might make a girl quick to fill the void of her heart with temporary relationships, or chasms that might render a girl so cynical and doubtful of love that she is never satisfied to be with someone. I believe that God can heal these terrible things that those men did to their beautiful daughters.

I believe that letting God's love, grace, and mercy drown the wounds that their fathers left them, they can be made well again. They can learn to fill their void with grace, and peace, instead of relationships. They can learn to forgive, and have grace on their fathers, and begin to be able to simply give love a chance...to give it a chance to put your whole heart into something, and not too be scared to be satisfied with it.

Wounds like this are not something that can just sit unmended and you just wait for it to heal. A gunshot wound to the heart does not just stop bleeding, or close up by itself. It will bleed until there is no blood left.

Find grace. Find peace. Find forgiveness.

Because this is not the way it was supposed to be.

"or the first time I saw a cactus in Arizona--it was a religious experience"- Bradley Hathaway

Last night was one of the most insane nights of my life.

My (now former) band The Kaleidoscope, Brighter got to play at an outdoor show, with a really, REALLY nice dude named Shawn McDonald. The forecast said it was supposed to clear up, as it was raining cats and dogs earlier in the day when we were exploring the town. Needless to say, it did not. And someone, in their infinite wisdom decided we were going to trust the weather people who said it was supposed to clear up by the time the show started. It sort of did...but it was still doing some pretty heavy misting, and the ground was soaked. My TOMS were soaked. My feet were freezing.

As would be the history of our band, wires got crossed, and the sound guy (who seemed like he was having a really, really super awful day) did not realize that we weren't the "typical" rock band and that we needed a lot more than what he thought we did. That was sort of stressful, to have the sound guy...who is basically in charge of you sounding good to the crowd, not really liking you. I digress however.

My mind was filled with a lot of negative thought before we got on stage. Just super burdened, super weighed down. I knew that this isn't good for me to feel like this when I play on stage. Not that I play poorly, but just that I am entirely unable to have that joyful release that I usually do when I played with TKB.

I could sort of see the crowd from behind the stage, as we were waiting to go up, while the local radio station was doing what they do. It seemed like an alright size of people. Then I heard them announce our name and the next thing I knew I was walking up the super slippery wood stairs to the stage. I grabbed my guitar, did a quick tune, and jumped into our first song. About a minute into the first song I finally took a minute to pay attention to the crowd. I was aghast. This is going to sound so, so silly, but I felt like I was playing Warped Tour. There were far too many people out there for me to count. I would hear afterwards that it was easily over 300 people, and quite possibly over 400. This was insane to me.

I knew I had to put on a good show for them, so I attempted to channel the frustration going on in my head through my guitar/my playing. I hated that. I hated that while on stage I could not actually enjoy playing in front of soo many people. I hated that my mind was so bogged down with things that weren't even about the show, and that I was so distracted from it all. It was the worst feeling in the world. I turned to Brian, our drummer, and mouthed several times what kept popping into my head: "I need a religious experience". Any other time I would've told you that playing in front of so many people could've and would've, but tonight it was just noise to me.

I got off stage and was complimented for my energy and how "You were having so much fun!", "You looked so happy", etcetc. That made me feel even worse. That was easily the most dissengenuine performance of my entire life, and people thought I was having all this fun and I was so happy. When really I was channeling super, SUPER negative energy and felt absolutely terrible.

The rest of the night was pretty downhill from there for me. I took off to walk around campus, to not let my negative energy rub off on anyone else. Then I found this little circle, concrete a foot or so off the ground, with a place to sit that circled it. I took a seat on the cold and completely drenched concrete and just stared into the sky. I thought to God, "Give me a religious experience. I feel like hell right now. Give me a religious experience. If you know me, than show me. GIVE ME A RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE."

So I sat. I sat in the rain and then mist and then rain for over an hour on that concrete circle. I had no idea what to except. I doubted anything was going to happen. I was born a doubter I think. After an hour had past, I was like "Screw this. Nothing is going to happen, I'm freezing my butt off. I want to go and eat and go home and try and sleep. I want to leave here." I didn't leave though. I just kept sitting. I had no reason to. I knew that nothing was going to happen. I KNEW nothing could happen.

Next thing I know I here someone say "Hi! Do you want an umbrella?" I look up and these two girls were standing outside the circle looking at me.

"No thanks," I said "I'm waiting for a religious experience."

"Oh, we're sorry! We didn't mean to bother you. You thought you might've been praying, but you looked wet so we wanted to see if you needed an umbrella."

"It's cool, I'm fine! And it's no problem at all, who knows, you guys might be part of the religious experience that I'm waiting for."

"What's your name?" one of the girls asked.

I got off my circle and went to where the were, sitting indian style on the concrete still a little elevated from where they were standing outside of the other circle that surrounded the circle I was sitting. We started talking, they started talking to me about "love languages", a concept which I first hear of from my friend Eric. I think it might be a Bible College thing. We kept talking, and they started to address everything that was weighing me down. They didn't know me, they did not have a damn clue what was on my heart, what was going on in my life. Nothing. But they kept bringing up these things that I was thinking. It was insane. Insane. Then we both went our separate ways. Them not having a clue what just happened, me still trying to wrap my head around it.

I thought I just had a religious experience. I thought about this hours and hours and hours. I got very little sleep because of the conversation that took part, and what they said about what was on my heart (mind you, they had no idea what was on my heart...they honestly just kept talking, and I just kept listening). Then I realized I was missing the big picture. The conversation was not the most important part of what happened. The conversation was just an excuse for the event to occur.

What happened was a religious experience. What happened was I told God that I needed a religious experience. And He did. I believe that He used those two girls to talk about what was on mind and heart, to show that He knew what I was thinking and how I felt...that He is not deaf. He let me know that despite all my doubting, He is real, and He showed me.

I could've already gone back to the green room, I could've stayed with the band, I could've stopped elsewhere on campus, I could've just not played the show, these two girls could've not come out of wherever they did for whatever reason they did, these two girls could've talked about the movie they saw last week and how sweet it was, the show could've been moved inside to avoid the rain in which case I would've been elsewhere entirely.

The point is, a million different things could've happened to stop this experience from happening. But they didn't. I believe that God used those two girls, that conversation which was somehow about exactly what was weighing me down, to show me that He loves me and that He is listening.

Everything that was used was like a vessel. The two girls, what was weighing on my heart, the conversation about what was on my heart that they didn't even know about, the weather, "fate", were all vessels to give me what I asked for: a religious experience.

God knew that I was at my wits end. He knew how much I was doubting everything, He knew that I would at times wonder if He even existed. Then God answered that question.

That's not to say that my whole life has been changed, that I now believe everything that all my friends who abandoned me because of my doubts believe, that I have all the answers to all my questions, that me myself have changed...

All I know is that one of my questions was answered before I slipped too far into the dark. All I know is that I asked and was given. I knocked and the door was opened for me. I gave up and was helped. For the first time in my life, I surrendered what I knew and what I thought I knew, all my doubt and cynicism and waited for an answer, and was given one.

And that is all I know.

Bradley Hathaway- Samuel

Anberlin - Dark Is the Way, Light Is a Place (Review)

I have been a fan of Anberlin ever since I was introduced to them either by my friend Eric or Spencer freshman year in high school. I was attracted to the bands honesty, and refreshing musical perspective, from their debut record Blue Prints for the Black Market, to Never Take Friendship Personal, and to Cities. Then came their major label debut New Surrender. I cannot put my disappointment for this record into words. At first, I was disgusted that they recorded “Feel Good Drag”, a song that was two records old, because they “thought it didn’t receive enough attention”. I thought it did! I did not even think it was in the top 5 songs on that record (NTFP). I bought the album off of iTUNES the midnight it came out, after 5 solid listens to the record the following days, I still thought it sucked. Not a little bit, but like…a LOT of suck. Mounds and mounds of suck. I thought the first 4 songs on the record were pretty solid, but then it just sort of crashed from there. Songs like “Breathe”, “Soft Skeletons”, and “Younglife” almost made me want to cry and ask iTUNES for a refund and then some. This was not my beloved Anberlin that had crafted songs like “Godspeed”, “Dance, Dance Christa Paffgen”, “Glass to the Arson”, and a bunch of other really killer tracks. After New Surrender I had basically given up on Anberlin. I wrote them off as a major label casualty, just like what had happened with some of my other favorite bands (namely The Juliana Theory and Relient K).

That was, until I heard their single for the new record “We Owe This to Ourselves”. It very much reminded of Anberlin’s Cities days…which was awesome to me, as that was my favorite record by them. I breathed a breath of hope. I thought maybe they weren’t too far gone, and that Stephen Christian still had some good lyrics left in him, and that the band was still capable of writing a solid song. After listening to their latest record Dark is the Way, Light is a Place, I am proud to announce that the Anberlin people like myself have grown up knowing and loving has returned…sort of.

Musically, the whole record is pretty killer. The song structures are super solid, and also a bit refreshing, which to me, was super surprising after the loads of disappointment that was New Surrender. Lyrically however, I feel like Stephen is still trying to get a grasp on the whole…honestly, I don’t even know. At some places the lyrics are just plain bad and elementary—things that you would’ve expected to be on their very first record BPFTBM, in particular the songs “To the Wolves” and “Art of War”. (To be honest, I called that “Art of War” was going to be a lame song when I saw the track listing…solely based off of the super lame title, which was also a mildly lame movie.) It almost astounds me that a guy that has written soo many killer lyrics on both Anberlin’s stuff, and his solo stuff, can think that some of those lyrics are good. Like “Who needs enemies when we’ve got friends like you”, “Because of you I’ll never write another love song”, are just some of the super trite verses that exist on the record.

Similar too their previous effort, Dark is the Way, Light is a Place is good to a certain point. I would say that point is starting at the lyrics “Art of War” (the music is REALLY good on that song, ironically) the album sort of downslides. So if you’re wondering why there are only ten songs on this record, I think you should do less wondering and more being thankful that there are only ten songs. Six of which are super, super solid. I would have to say that for me, “Pray Tell” and “Impossible” are the highlights to this record. Thankfully they don’t come even close to writing a song as bad as some of them were on NS, but I am starting to think that this band is now entirely incapable of writing a record that will ever live up to Cities, which is super unfortunate.

Either way, I encourage you to give Dark is the Way, Light is a Place a solid listen and decide for yourself, because there definitely are some killer tracks on it. So if anything, this record is a huge comeback from their debut major label release, but the band still has a far way to go to find the passion of their Tooth and Nail Record days.

Vocals: 8/10

Musicianship: 6.7/10

Lyrics: 6/10

Production: 8/10

Creativity: 6.8/10

Lasting Value: 7/10

Final Verdict: 71%

"Lively Rogues (Demo)"

Click here to download "Lively Rogues (feat Abby Wood)"

riyl: stars, metric, strays don't sleep, mates of state

Chad: This song started off as 2 acoustic guitar parts that I've had in my head since the middle of July. Finally one day I just got sick of trying to write it as a folky song, which is what I had originally envisioned it. I went to my computer and recorded the the parts, basically making what was a verse-chorus-verse-chorus of the song. I put it on my iPOD and would drive around listening to it, trying to think of a good melody. Again though, nothing came to mind. I was stuck in a huge rut it would've appeared, so I continued working on the song on my laptop. A few weeks later I had this instrumental piece that I was pretty stoked on. Just like a chill piece, and I also added some ambient noise to it via a part of the Paul Newman movie "Cool Hand Luke", and the Al Pacino film "The Devil's Advocate".

I still did not feel satisfied with where the song was at. I thought it still had potential, so I continued to work on it--my next step being to send it to my band's singer Abby Wood to see if she liked it enough to write a vocal part for it. A few days later she emailed me the track back with a SWEET melody that she had written, and I finally knew the direction of where the rest of the song would go. As lame as I feel to say this, this was recorded, produced, and mixed all in GarageBand. I was super impressed the potential that GB had once I really started to dig into it. I wanted to use LogicExpress9 for it, but I want the proper equipment before I start learning and recording with that (i.e. interface and midi keyboard).

Abby: Chad told me about this song he’d been working on with his beloved new Macbook Pro, and asked if I could come up with a melody to go along with it. It was different than the type of stuff I usually do, but I really dug it. It’s the kind of song you can just chill out to while driving in your car.

My initial lyrical inspiration behind it was a bit strange I guess. I had watched this documentary about a chick who goes back, finds all of her old loves and tries to find out what went wrong, and why in her mid 30’s they think she’s still single. It was uncanny, uncomfortable, and I loved every second of it. Every fairytale kids are ever told have the prince and princess going off into the sunset, and that’s it. The credits roll. But what happens if the story ends? I guess the song is about finding the strength to believe that love exists, and good things can happen anyway.

unrefined records vs refined records (or) why kids like hardcore music so much PART 1

To me, something being unrefined means as pure and raw as it can get. It means just straight-up emotion. Not too much thinking, not too much preplanning about what you're going to say, just going up to a microphone and saying/singing/screaming about what is overflowing in your heart at that moment. Some of my favorite records of my youth, and still to this day, have been in this vein: Chiodos: All's Well That Ends Well, Dashboard Confessional: The Places You Have Come to Fear the Most, My Chemical Romance: Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge, The Chariot: Wars and Rumors of War, Saosin: Translating the Name, Underoath: Define the Great Line, The Devil Wears Prada: With Roots Above and Branches Below...and many, many more.

Now, please don't get me wrong, I some of my favorite records are also the most refined and thought out I've ever heard: Bon Iver: For Emma, Forever Ago, 1997: ...A Better View of the Rising Moon, Matthew Good: Avalanche, Lydia: Illuminate...and again--many, many more.

I'm not saying one way is better than the other by any means. In fact, I love them both equally.

But I have noticed a problem between the two. I have noticed that if a band writes an unrefined record, and follows it up with a refined record, it will generally not be received as well. Let me explain via a few of my favorite records, and then the same bands follow up albums:

Chiodos

"All's Well that Ends Well" vs "Bone Palace Ballet"

"All's Well that Ends Well"--->When I first sat down to listen to Chiodo's (official) debut record, "All's Well That Ends Well", I seriously had a tidal wave of emotions. The music was so fast, so unstructured, so adhd, it was amazing. And Craig Owens's voice just periced my ears with conviction and angst with lyrics such as "One day women will all become monsters...", "If your stomach feels weak then my work here is done", I knew this dude had something really rotten happen to him, and you could tell by his voice and lyrics.

"Bone Palace Ballet"--->Then a few years afterwards, enter the much more refined "The Bone Palace Ballet", a seemingly post-hardcore symphony. It felt structured to me. It felt planned. And Craig's voice had lost that conviction and angst that it had on their (official) debut record. It sounded controlled, it sounded like he actually choose to hold back, therefore creating a lot more of a dynamic record than "All's Well That Ends Well". Which is not a bad thing by any means. There are many great songs on this album, and Craig's voice does sound a lot better, in regards to technique, than their first one.

The Verdict--->When "Bone Palace Ballet" came out, I read one phrase over and over on message boards "There isn't enough screaming". At face value, this sounds really childish. These emo kids were upset that Craig Owens decided to scream less and focus on singing more? Well, not quite. What I believe they meant by "There isn't enough screaming" is: "Where'd the passion go?" With Owens choosing to refine his voice to fit songs like "A Letter to Janelle" and "Intensity in Ten Cities", he lost a lot of craze he had in his voice on the original record.

Dashboard Confessional

"The Places You Have Come to Fear the Most" vs "The Shade of Poison Trees", "Dusk and Summer", " Alter the Ending"

"The Places You Have Come to Fear the Most"--->In 2001, Chris Carrabba released his second acoustic record under the name of Dashboard Confessional. To the average fan, Chris sounded like a kid who kept getting his heart broken in high school. That every single girl who looked his way he would fall in love with, then get his heart broken, and then write a song like "The Brilliant Dance" via picking up his guitar, writing a little poetry about the situation, then singing his guts out in GarageBand. With every note sang on this record, you would've believed that he recorded each song with the emotion of knowing that he was going to send a copy of each song to the girl he wrote it about. This was the first record I ever heard the term "emo" about (not to be confused with the really crappy bands and cookie-cutter kids that the term is slapped on today). And for good reason too, I believe. This record absolutely drips with heart break. Even today when I listen to "The Best Deception", as lame as it is, it makes me question if you can ever really trust a girl with your heart. Fast forward to the last track of the record "This Bitter Pill" where Carrabba sounds like he is practically crying at the end of the song he is just so dang upset.

"The Shade of Poison Trees" (etcetc)--->Let's talk about disasters shall we? On this and all the following Dashboard records, I feel like Chris is trying way hard to not talk about his high school heart break. I mean, sure, you can call it growing up, but I call it refined. I call it refined and awfully boring compared to his emotion riddled "The Places You Have Come to Fear the Most". And as I stated before, I really do like refined records too. But "The Shade of Poison Trees" (and all the following) just sound soo boring to me. He is like...trying to write these songs that sound smart instead of songs that he is just wailing away at his beat up acoustic guitar and his cracking voice. But all his other songs (aside from "A Mark, a Mission, a Brand, a Scar) just feel like these boring ol' songs to me. Refined and very colorless.

The Verdict--->For the love of my youth and in and out of heartbreak states, Chris Carrabba, please go back to wailing on your guitar and voice. It's 3 records in and I still can't get used to this new and refined you. I am happy your life is happy, but you still have to have some sort of teenage-angst left in your bones!!! I don't believe that Chris Carrabba was meant to sing in any other style but singing/crying about some jerk girl that broke his heart.

My Chemical Romance

"Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge" vs "Welcome to the Black Parade"

"Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge"--->The first interview's I read about "Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge", I was almost shocked that Gerard Way said that this record was a concept album about "A character who was killed by gunfire, then makes a deal with the Devil to see his lover again, but first must bring the souls of a thousand men to Hell". To be honest, I think this is just Way being overly pretentious. This record rips right through you with brutal guitar riffs and Way's convicting voice and lyrics, a little short of 40 minutes of sheer energy and intensity. The band clearly holds nothing back on their major label debut, and it shows as it tears through the speakers and your ears and your face. A very obviously unrefined world debut of a good old fashioned guitars, drums, and vocal band. A rock band. And despite what Gerard has said in interviews, there is absolutely no way that his voice quivering and those harsh lyrics can be simple products of a concept album.

"Welcome to the Black Parade"--->I'm not a fan of good bands trying to be super pretentious. At all. I was never a big Green Day fan, but I about threw up when I heard their latest 2 albums. No matter how hard they try to be conceptual and political, Green Day is a punk band. As simple as that. I feel the same about My Chemical Romance. To me, as close-minded as it may sound or may actually be, they are a fast, driving, pissed off punk band. Simple as that. This out of total left field, overly epic album is just another example of a good band trying WAY too hard (i.e. Taking Back Sunday: New Again, Coldplay: Viva La Vida, Fall Out Boy: Folie A Deux). With an overly obvious concept that the band attempts to lace together, it becomes clear why the band did shows for this record under the name "The Black Parade" more than a few times, as opposed to their actual name--because clearly, this record is not the My Chem we all know and love.

The Verdict--->My Chemical Romance needs to stop trying soo hard to be a Queen/Pink Floyd tribute band and just be themselves. Don't get me wrong, "Welcome to the Black Parade" is an epic and musically fantastic album. In a scene that is over-saturated with more and more of the same thing, they did an amazing job with that record to set themselves apart from it all. However though, the intensity and aggressiveness of "Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge" is sorely lacking in this album. Making it a much weaker effort than the prior record.

Unrefined records vs records records

The answer--->From looking at these three artists, and looking at their both refined and unrefined records, I have found one thing for me to be true: I absolutely can not stand it when a band writes an extremely unrefined record, and then follows it up with a refined record.

However, if a band writes a refined record, holding a lot back and being very careful and dynamic with everything, and then follows it up with a brutal, emotional, and intense refined record, I can do that.

But for me honestly, it's all about the first impression of a band. If I hear a band being unrefined/super emotional with a record, that's how I'm going to think of them. But if I hear a band that is super refined in regards to their musicianship, or has the capacity to do both (i.e. Lydia), that's awesome too. While I do not want any of my favorite bands to make the same record twice, I do want them to continue to make records that are consistently better and (if possible) even more refined or unrefined, or a healthy mixture of both, than the ones before them.

Part 2: why kids like hardcore music so much (UP IN A WEEK)

Throwing Stones, Skipping Stones [Pt 2]

This is the second part to my spoken word project.

Last time people found it helpful to understand the poems if I provided what they mean to me, so I'll do that again, in the comments section of this blog post. So be sure that if you want to interpret the poems for yourself, avoid reading the comm

ent section until the end of your listen(s) so as to not...er...spoil(?) them for yourself. I don't believe there is any right way to interpret these, not even my own. So I hope some of you really take different things from these.

I hope some of these poems really speak to you guys, provoke your thoughts, make you feel something...make you feel anything. I know they mean the world to me, so I hope they can mean something to someone else too.

Part 2: click here to download Throwing Stones, Skipping Stones [Pt2]

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Good God, Sunday Morning (I)

Speak.

Only what you believe.

Certainty.

The idea of knowing exactly what everything you read must mean.

Justify.

What I do not have to do for you about anything I have ever said.

Small.

Must be the size of God in your head.

Small.

Must be the size of God in your head.

Small.

Must be the size of God in your head.

If everyone who is not you is wicked,

And you are the righteous,

And you are the chosen,

And you understand every word and verse of that 1635 page book

And that book was written by the thing that created the whole universe?

And you think you understand even a fraction of what is written in that 1635 page book?

Then small is the size of god in your head.

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

Cherem

My confidence shudders

Like a volcano eruption on an island off the coast of I don’t know where

The rumble of missionaries foot steps, sent to people who can’t even speak their language, but they say “God DOES care”

But these words have their wear.

So poised to reach out,

Don’t you ever wonder what these people would think

When we point at the water and the sky and whisper “You must be saved from a damned fate”

Well then I point at myself for the crusades

I point a finger at myself for all the hate speech against gays that Christians make

I point a finger at myself like the street preacher yelling about the end and “Repent! You sinners, you heathens, it IS too late!”

Well if Jesus Christ had been buried he would be rolling over in His grave

You use your words to speak of a life that none of us can obtain

Diamonds as ears nothing can be chipped

Nothing worth an open mind too hear

Your words are nothing if not empty to these people on the street.

I speak for a thousand strong, but you will never speak for me

I do not speak for Jesus Christ, I speak from what I see.

My life is a representation of grace laden imperfection, and a testimony of everything I believe.

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

Black Letters

Don't let your compassion leak into waters that can never feel warmth.

Don't condemn off of words of men who simply wrote down their thoughts.

This is not what the world needs

Another finger pointing group of zealots

Like they are the righteous, and you are the wicked.

Pour a cup of water into the Grand Canyon

Let me know how quickly it can become a body of water.

I'll even let you name it!

We are all a portion of empty waiting to be filled.

Bur our cups will never spillith over because we are completely deaf to barking orders.

This is a war of who thinks they have the most spiritual intellect.

Who can twist the black text enough to fit into a baseball into an axe like Jezebel longed to make heads roll?

"Cherem! Cherem! Cherem!"

The modern day prophets and messiahs cry

As my old friends and my same enemies are busy throwing nooses of words at and around both of our necks

I will remind you that I am at the gallows with you

I will remind you that there is so much more than the knives that cut their ropes to keep our feet from dangling above the ground.

So much forgiveness and grace to be found once we loosen the weights at our ankles, once we have the strength to stand on open air and trust we won't fall down.

Once we allow ourselves to have get swept away by His song, and not their sound.

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

Good God, Sunday Morning (II)

There is an alternative version to this.

There is a different way that we could exist.

I am lost amidst sand storms that bite at my lips and wear away at "that kiss"

Even better than the first time I stood at your door way and I considered the thought of "us", could be more than just a fleeting oasis--my mouth was dry and full of sores from all the deserts I've wandered through before

But as you stood there

As you stand there

With your keys shaking in your hand

You had seen a lot of movies, I referenced one, knowing that you would understand

Do you understand?

I don't just want to have Paris with you.

I am settled to have chance decide when we are looking at the same sky turn red, then blue.

Do you know what I am saying to you?

I don't want to know you in twenty years,

I want to know you in-between that space of now, and then.

So maybe the sunflowers will stop blooming

And maybe we'll move far on and forget all our songs

But--tiny, clumsy, dancing girl, this skinny love will only last as long as you want it to carry on

So pick yourself up,

Tell me how much you care.

Meet me at the airport, I'll say goodbye to you there.

Throwing Stones, Skipping Stones [Pt 1]

This is the first part of (possibly) many parts of this spoken word project.

I am not sure what people are going to think of Throwing Stones, Skipping Stones, but it is my hope that at least a few of you can appreciate these poems for something or another. I was considering explaining what these poems meant, but then I realized that what I would really be saying is what these poems meant to me, which is entirely unimportant. I really hope that you can find meaning, find yourself being moved, and find yourself thinking and over-thinking...in some of my mess of words and voice.

Part 1: click here to download Throwing Stones, Skipping Stones [Pt1]

To the Man that Sent His Son to War

If this is just a thought

Don’t mean it, do not take another breath

This is your son’s war in a situation that you unabashfully created

He will follow the path of (you) the phantom for his whole life

This is your son’s battle cry in this war that you volunteered him for

No one in their right mind knowingly wants to run head first into a firing squad

But you cannot navigate in an ocean with a thousand starless nights

So, from land to water to land and back again until the barrels are empty and the rashins gone

If this mutiny is just a thought

Do not touch her.

Do not take another breath.

Do not try to pry the captain’s hands from this ship.

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To the Reckless

Safety was not his first thought

“This shell is uncomfortable, I will break through to get what I want from you”

God forbid you disappoint him

“It isn’t the same with this plastic cocoon”

“I know what you want baby, and I respect it too, but I need you to do this for me to know that I want you. I love you.”

Word vomit, letters that do not make sense

But the phrasing and pacing of assurance…so much so that it doesn’t even make Peter sink.

(He does not care)

And this will be his seventh Grammy alone this year.

Congratulations are the wedding dresses to a consolation prize in her eyes of an action like a black man in the 1960’s- free and dreaming and alive.

She used to not believe in hand outs but the public health services prove to be more than useless gifts

As the needles broke her skin and blood vials spin and she sits in the waiting room alone as the sweating begins

The thoughts are loud enough to be an Imax theatre. 3-d. In high-definition. Everyone wondering what was on whose lips they exchanged a bit more than they probably should have gave.

So cut the set belts out of your automobiles and do anything and everything to make you feel the best, clog the holes in drowning ships with bundles of sticks

Sunroofs are useless in a steady rain; recklessness is best kept as a saline drip.

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To the Man that is a father, who is not a Father

I am her father.

I am a ghost…

I am the spirit in her house

I am the creek in her bed that grows louder as she fails to get prouder

And the boys that are in step with the noise grow older and so much border

What actions this sort of prince charming courage employs,

Is the exact same selfish flame that gave me what I need to leave her frozen in place

I am her father.

I am the walking dead.

I am a ghost.

As always, I would love to hear peoples opinions on either the poems or my performance of them. Please be a little gentle this go'round though, it is my first time.