what might be is never certain.

I have been inspired to
move beyond the page
and beyond the expectations

they were so heavy
and they were never mine
in the first place
and I don't think they were yours

and were given to you
like the old pocket watch
with your great grandfathers initials
and the limbs
of your family tree

i want to live
without the knowledge
or the weight
of your lies

or your thoughts

as they are so heavy
upon my dreams

thoughts from a tired friday

I used to be so ashamed of my profession.
I hated being a youth pastor
When I went out on Friday nights
And people had jobs that
Put money in their banks
And their Wednesday evening frees
I secretly wished I chose something different

I don’t mind it so much anymore

There are days where I wouldn’t mind
Being a youth pastor again
Yet
I wouldn’t mind
The lack of responsibility

I guess it really is a push and pull.
What you will be
when you are to tired
to become a scholar

Yet

It's refreshing to know i have some possabilities.
Refreshing.

because theology told me so.

we blame the revolution
as something that disrupted
our social order
of perfection
of the white males design

if we really believe in freedom
if we really believe in love
than why are we questing over
power
the right belief
the right answer

i don't have time for the right truth

what i have time for
is creating beauty
stillness
love
hope
faith

because those are hard


those bring understanding
and paint brushes
glue sticks
glitter
and stickers in the shape of stars
and dancing

lots of dancing
and lots of joy
lots of life to be lived
without the constraints of

boundaries set up
with your ideals
and fence posts
with barbed fires
of the right ideas.

monster parts

do you remember the cartoons
with the monsters that were fake
and you knew
because you could see the zipper

that's how i feel
not so much the monster
part
but the part with the zipper

the zipper is opening
and a new creation
is emerging.
shedding the old fur
and revealing something
new


but it's still so fresh

and the new is still yet to be unseen

because
i think the zipper is caught
on something
and I keep trying to jiggle it free
but it's stuck
and the polyester won't breathe.
and it's hot
and I just want to move on
get out of the monster

breathe

jiggle

breathe

jiggle

breathe

a mystic glow

they say that you should wait for God to show up.
But isn't God right there.
whispering in your ear.
arms length away.

The systematic approach is not working.
the checks were not in the boxes.
the moments of perfection were over.

we wait for all the ducks to be in a row.
but what if they were never supposed to be?
what if they needed to be scattered like the stars in the sky?

they say that the prophets were on the outskirts
it's because the rules did not apply.
how are they supposed to apply when you don't ascribe to this lifestyle?

I give up on your order.
and your fear.
I give up for the fact that you tried to keep me feet in step.
with yours.

the whisper is all i need.
and the smile on my face.
and what is in my eyes.
rather than what is written on the calendar for may of 2009.

today i will hear you.
or see you.
and know that you are moving.
because you said you were.
and i guess that's all i really know.

and we then fight for injustice.
and peace.
and love.
and we don't fight with fists.

because it came back on my computer screen.

We gave up on dreaming.
and long passionate kisses.
and long walks with our hands stuffed in our pockets, snow falling on our eye lashes.
for the ability to use rational discourse.
to prove we can live in someone else's expectations.

the expectation to put on a smile.
and print your documents.
and sign your checks.

so that we may biy your cars.
and your rings.
because that is what makes one important.

I have my house.
but not love.
because the love happened in between rent checks.
and credit card statements.
the love is what I bought for you to love me.
and I ask am i good enough?
and I ask if we can squeeze in an embrace between your dream and mine.
but those dreams turned into dollars and cents.

rather than

purple. green. blue.
hues that engage.
dreams that appear out of nowhere.
they are the ones that seem so outrageous.
and they stir my soul

because only the creativity can.

what is left for me to become?
I can look like your expedition.
but I would rather go on my own.

The one that didn't make sense to your normalcy.
only some dreams.
shitty metal music.
and a paintbrush.

this monday.

I have been sitting in class all day.
One ear on the speaker and the other to the clacks of the keyboard.
I wrote my thesis last quarter.
so i am having a hard time paying attention.

so instead of paying attention i took a picture.
because we both like looking at facebook.
instead of wrestling with justice.




am i really this apathetic?
or just distracted?

I guess the day brings out the reality of my life.
sitting in front of lectures.
wishing that i could listen to music all day.
and read books that push me.
and my thoughts.

rather than being pushed to update my netflix queue.

thoughts with a black and white striped shirt. though it's not that black and white.

they say that writers die alone.
but there are a few of us left that want to find that thinker.
that other that pushes us because they spend their time walking down dirty alleys alone with a half lit cigarette in their left hand.
that is the other who gets caught staring into the lamplight.
and shivers in the rain.

that is the other.

instead we look for brilliantly redesigned boob jobs.
and cover our imperfections with foundation made of dirt.
we look for the things in others that have been redesigned to mask our flaws.
and brokenness.
our feelings are covered with linen suits and silver watches.
and we call this good.
because Louis Vitton told it was. as well as blonde actresses with personalities in their anorexia.
and we called this beautiful.

I don't want that.

I don't want the fakeness.

What I remember is the long nights laying awake. Questioning what happened yesterday.
Pretending that the day began when we laid our heads on our pillows.
I remember the freedom.
I wouldn't mind that again.

and the space to walk down crowded streets.
with headphones in. and my mind full of questions.

you can leave your pretentious ideas to the movies.
i want someone who has been alone.
and it ached.
and you stared out of windows.
and took lonely walks.
and ate by yourself.
and knew what it meant to be alone.
because having someone is that much sweeter.