Hide and Seek

I hate this feeling.

I'm ready to meet you.

His Day, Not Mine

My dreams fade as the sound of a beeping wake my reality.

I climb out of comfort dragging my feet for another day

And walk with indifference to clean my body of wickedness.

The water drips over me

With my eyes closed

And hands against the wall.

My mind calms as I meditate on the sound of dripping water

And the touch of warm purity that hits my shoulders.

Thoughts wonder from one to another

Concerning my life and how it is lived

But I rid myself of such thoughts

Cause the burden of stress is like acid.

After the handle is turned and the water ceases

I make my way back to what I now consider "home"

To dress with first a sock and finally a shirt.

I look in the mirror as if to try and gain a kind of acceptance

But 1st Peter intervenes.

So I sit down and open my guide to a better life.

A life of purity

A life of discipline

A life of love

After some spiritual insight

The clock tells me its time to start the day

And the book next to it tells me

To start it right.

So as I walk downstairs towards the doors

Separating me from the outside world

I ask myself if this will be my day

Or His.

But as I walk through those doors I quickly realize

This should be His day.

I see the sun shine through the morning dew

And the branches on the trees reaching towards the Heavens.

The wind hits my face as if to say, "Good Morning"

While the suns rays warm my upper back.

I take a look at the creation that my Creator has made

And can't help but be comforted by the grace of our God.

His art far outweighs Van Gogh or Michelangelo's

For his art lives and breathes.

It turns a small seed into a Redwood.

It turns coal and pressure into a priceless stone.

It turns love into a living breathing baby.

I'm reminded everyday I step outside

That this isn't my day

This is His day.

The day goes on and His beauty screams its magnificence

Though we live in a society where most are deaf

And most are blind to the most obvious.

So I do my best to open my eyes and ears

To what was created around me

So that I might worship Yahweh

The creator of the Heavens and Earth.

We are the paint on His canvas

We are clay in His hands

We are his creation.

And that is why this should be His day

Not mine.

So as I walk on the manmade concrete

Towards a classroom of insignificance

I glance at the grass

The trees

The flowers

And the clouds

And realize the comfort is not where I left my dreams,

It's when I begin my day

To Whom it May Concern

I sit here with my hands through my hair

Leaning over my desk listening to the music

As my emotions dance on the notes of the melody.

My chest hurts

My stomach turns

My body lifeless

And my breathing heavy

For my anticipation and eagerness are like two kids

In search of a treasure

A treasure worth far more than silver or gold

A treasure not easily found but often sought after

An emotion

A feeling

An action

One word that is used too often or used too little

Love

I sit here re-living the scenes of the cliche love stories

As the music fades in and out

And I can't help but think of that word

Love

A word so powerful and poetic

That it can bring a man to his knees

Or a tear from her eyes.

My thoughts surround the word

And my patience grows thin.

Though I don't know you

I want to

More often than not

I lie awake imagining those moments

Those moments you read in stories

Those moments you see in movies

Those moments I'm with you

And everything is perfect.

I long to look into those eyes I'm meant to look into

And to lightly grab the tip of your chin

To tell you those 3 words I will tell you everyday

For as long as your heart beats.

I pray I am given the chance to treat you as a unique flower

Grown in the Garden of Eden

And that no matter what is said or done

Those 3 words will never be lost.

I promise to honor you

And to keep you in sickness and in health

Remaining faithful to you for as long as

You and I

Both shall live.

But yet I do not know you

And I am brought back down to my desk

Listening to the sounds of melodies that

Surround my lifeless body and the hands in my hair.

I am left with the thought of another cliche

And a sick stomach.

So I sit here writing this for you

With a half smirk on my face

Knowing that those moments will come

And that i'll be here waiting for them

While preparing myself for you.

So with that said

This is

To Whom It May Concern

My Handicap

My mind tears away at the memories

The memories I thought that were forgotten

The memories I thought I flushed away

But they still fizzle to the top 

And turn my stomach like the drying of a wet rag

While embarrassment and guilt floods my horizon.

I shake my head in disgust coming to the realization 

That I was that regret 

That regret that we all have in past experiences

Where we ask ourselves that one simple question,

"Why?"

And after meditating on all that was said and done

I can't say I blame you

I look back and can't help but ask myself the same question,

"Why?"

As my memories surround me and I look at myself

Through the eyes of someone who has lost

My body quivers 

It shakes at all the mistakes that were made

It shakes at all the wrong words that were said

It trembles at the idiocracy that was shown 

Leaving me with a bad taste of regret and want

And knowing there's no way to go back and correct it.

So I sit in disgust and despair 

While I look at what was lost

And though wanting to reach out and grab another chance

I can't

For that would be selfish.

I see things are better for you

So I step back and watch a new road being paved

While inspiration runs through my veins

To be the person I should've been

Because the past cannot be changed

But the future can be carved.

So with that inspiration in hand

I live

I live day to day trying to be the man you deserved

And not the boy you recieved.

Though I may not show my handicap

I am crippled by being that regret

and the bread crumbs that led me there.

So I grasp my cane of inspiration to hold me up

and to allow me to walk tall on what lies ahead

Tweet My SpaceBook

A few days ago a friend and myself got on the topic of today's most well known social networks.

Facebook

Myspace

Twitter

This conversation led to the term "Legitimacy" and how it's an important aspect of these social webspaces. If you notice on Myspace, kids from the ages of 10-15 tend to exagerate a little when it comes to their age. Why? Because of the female sex primarily. If they see a picture of a hot breezy but notice that they're age, or the age they CLAIM to be, is quite a bit older then they are inspired to "exagerate" their age a little in hopes of this "Heaven on Earth" to take an interest in them. Though the profile pic always throws them for a loop. 

Because of these known occurences, Myspace's Legitimacy has decreased 17%, occording to the LSS (Legit Shit Statistics) in this year alone. And it has not gone down just because of the age gage abusers.

Over 15,600 pedifials have joined myspace in the last 2 years (numbers may be slightly embellished). I mean with all the cases of grown men looking at younger girls or boys it would only be a matter of time til the Legitimacy of Myspace was to drop significantly. It's too sick of a thought when thinking that there's a chance that a man old enough to fart dust could be looking at your picture and creating his own music video to "Afternoon Delight".

So for all you people wanting to get a Myspace account, check the LSS statistics first then weigh out the pros and cons.

As far as Facebook goes a majority of all social networking artists use Facebook more than Myspace. This is because of the useful easy features it comes with. The Facebook chat was a hit when it came out. Rosie O' Donal commented, "Facebook chat is....". Though the rest of the quote was lost, "Facebook chat" was still commented on and no one would argue with the infamous Betty Rubbel. Other fun useful features are the games you can play with other friends or subscribers. These would include Texas Hold Em' matches, Mafia Wars, and the well known "You poke me then i'll poke you" routine. You can just smell the Legitimacy rising. 

But why is it so Legit? Why do people not question your age, taste in music, or favorite movies on Facebook. Simple. It's a majority decision. People know the ratio of people that lie to people that don't on Facebook and it's simply not negotiable. It's too low to even be discussed. 

And Twitter. My opinion on Twitter is simply this. It's a cop-out of Facebook statuses. Tweeter McTweeterson over here knew the high Legitimacy rating of Facebook and decided to make a website simply devoted to Statuses. Brilliant yet cliche'. But I can't complain because I have a Twitter and it's addicting.

I cannot begin to to even write out the entire conversation of my friend and me because the depth could not be obtained by this Toshiba computer. 

All I want, nay NEED to say is this:

Tweet My SpaceBook

Awake While Sleeping

He looks at himself in the mirror every night to see what's changed

Though not all change is growth, all growth is change

So he leaves his body to explore the depth of his past

And hopes that growth has encompassed him like a mother over her child

Praying that one night he may be able to sleep with both eyes closed

Knowing that he could look at himself in the mirror 

Before the gates of guilt clasped shut

Because God knows how many nights were spent 

With both eyes open

And heart beating parallel

To the pain of a lost love

Or a love lost.

So while the body stands staring at its reflection

The mind wanders. 

But the same baggage finds its way back to his shoulders

Leaving him winded 

And asking questions with no answers.

Though it's always the same 2 burdens with one for each shoulder 

And each one so heavy, 

it drags him to his knees crying out for safety.

Safety from himself and the heart he carries.

For he is his own deciever and enemy

And the only one who can control what his heart feels

And what it doesn't.

His knees scarred from the time spent down

His voice hoarse from how long he's screamed

His shoulders sore from the weight of confessions

"I don't want it to be like this!" he screams

Knowing he is heard but questioning what will be done

While he kneels there weeping of what his life has become.

A life of guilt,

A life without passion,

A life of questioning.

Questioning if he truly believes

And if he really does why doesn't he try harder?

Why doesn't he seek harder?

Why is his love supressed by laziness?

And why is he questioning his stance on something

That shouldn't keep his eyes from closing?

It's simple

He is desiring what is most desired

But he can't speak because of what might be lost

Words of confession might ruin what's already good

So he keeps the strap tight on his shoulder

Letting the bag hang close to his heart.

He wishes there was another way

A better way

But because of the known knock of Heartbreak

The bag dangles

So the mind turns back to the body after looking back

On what's looked on so often

And after what seems like an eternity

Of staring into the depths of his past

And the hopes of his future

He walks towards the bed

Knowing He will be awake while sleeping

The Sound of My Melody

I wish I could spill my secret but there's too much at risk. 

But isn't life about risks? 

Maybe, though this is more than a game of Jeopardy. 

So what do I do? 

Do I keep going from day to day living with this hidden confession buried within my chest? 

Or do I unlock this burden and swallow the key? 

I can't decide with Fear yelling in my face. 

And when I try to yell back my voice is lost in the sounds of questions. 

"What if it doesn't work?" 

"What if it's true?" 

"What will happen if I try?" 

So I come upon a T in the road. 

Do I go right? 

Or do I go left?

I turn to friends but they are no help because loyalty is usually conquered by gossip

So I stand there...in the middle of the road...hoping...praying I don't get run over by Opportunity

If I decide to go right great experiences may lie but heartbreak could be lerking under the bridge

If I decide to go left I may avoid a disaster or turn away from what is most longed for

I wish there were signs to direct me to a path worth choosing

But there aren't.

There are only signs of confusion.

I ask myself why this is so hard

This shouldn't be that big of a deal

But it is.

Why?

Because it deals with matters of the heart

My heart doesn't want to be another face on a totem pole

It wants to be a rose among thorns

A melody among sounds

A note among chords

So is the road to the right worth it?

Is it worth the consequences that may lie ahead?

There's only one way to know. 

Follow the sound of the melody