Talking Turtle

“We are books being read aloud, noticing that when we love ~~hate~~ our words rhyme.”

One night I stood between doors begging God for answers to the questions that lingered in my mind. Always have i kept them still, held back by the refrain to never doubt

as I stood between time, in a place called imagination

I read the scarlet words where my eyes hesitated long on; the letters

spelling out “Jesus”

I didn’t know what He meant

All my troubles, all my worries, anxieties, and frustrations He didn’t get.

There, in the corner of my mind stood the question of pain.

So He took me far from my house to a place i would soon call home,

the cross.

I staggered in the midst of crowd, hearing the voices of roaring oceans screaming for death “upon the Living God”!

The questions that once stood sat down and were told to take notes,

1) He spoke words of life and truth, saying, ” Father Forgive them for they know not what they do”!

His breath was heavy

His body looked too much like a soldiers corpse caught in Open Fire

His hands clung to the cross

His feet in position

2) Lungs exasperated,

Every breath was a fight for words of blessing

GUilt was on His face

Worry

saddness

wronged

lied to

murdered

3) in his ears rung loud the chorus of sin, He heard:

the biting of the fruit

the first shouts of murder

every grieve stricken mother

the echoes of drowning

the worship of idolatry

Missals drop

Kamikazes shot

Lives stop

Children hungry

The raped hurting

Jews burning

the footsteps of you and me running……..

The sounds of our sin rung through His ears

4) He felt thirsty and asked for water,

His skin was like a desert pleading for rain

the sun bore down on His head, mind dizzy

He felt thirsty

he felt thirsty

He felt hungry

He felt pain

He felt dying

He felt the pain of the killed and the heart of a killer

hunger and gluttony

abused and abuser

the enslaved and enslaver

offended and offender

He felt Pain… and it was mine.

tylerknott:

Typewriter Series #297 by Tyler Knott Gregson

Tangled and Broken Into

I keep trying to wipe the dirt off my shoes.

Our misadventure wasn’t supposed to be this dirty.

Pathetic even.

We were not supposed to be like this.

I was going to be the better man,

righteousness and virtue were my being, yet not strong enough to keep the water

crashing through me.

This landscape was turning into nothing but mud.

Creation was loosing its sea

with eyes that once were river stones, they might have been crystals, but definitely not sea through.

They became gravel, paved for people to walk on,

painted for traffic

busy city streetlights got the best of me.

but it was all vanity.

i should have seen this coming from a mile away

From a mile away, you saw me walking to your house

with all the toys and intentions my 3 year old cousin has to play in the dirt.

I remember Life was all crayon colored blue filling the skies

with cotton-ball clouds sticking to the atmosphere.

We were glad for life had been so simple

we grew together, like vines do embracing each other for the first time, then slowly looping and dancing toward the sun together

connection,

uniting

twist,and twirls,

bonding our bodies

You were braiding your hair for the picnic I was going to take you on

but those twist and twirls got the best of us and before I knew it we were in knots

a tangle

a snag

these spirals were making us dizzy,

We had to snap

My mother once told me that the heart is like a door,

“You decide who you let in”

and my door used to be open, there was always a vacancy for you

A room kept clean, with a picture of love hanging on the wall, Sun flowers on your dresser to smell the sunrise and a teddy bear on your pillow

to hug the nightmares away

but not anymore

Your father always told you to be careful. That Love is like a window

Have it closed, watch it from the inside, its better, you wont get hurt

And step back once awhile, someone might decide to shatter the glass.

but one day You opened the curtain to a rhythm of pebbles knocking on your window

You knew instantly that it was love calling you out,

but now the gate is’nt even open for us

Too many times have i experienced cracked walls in this room

too many nights have you spent with crying windows and shattered glass

Where’s the Joy in that?

yesterday i saw you walking unaccompanied in the night

without the protection of a hand to call your own

although its been over for years

i still pray for us sometimes

that God would give you a key to my locked door.

and so i write this so you won’t forget the mountain we climbed

the valley we walked through

the river we swam in

the fish we caught

and the times are lips hugged reality away

i hope you can find joy not in dirt, but in the beauty of a sand castle

not in mud, but in pottery

not in just words, but in poetry.

not in just doors, but hearts

not just windows, but love

although were over i still want the best for you,

that if its not me,that you would at most find joy in another.

and that he may give you so much more than i ever did.

but if God would decide to answer my prayer

and you take that key

let’s not open the door right away

but plant a garden first

to watch beauty in the making.

Well have an old fashioned picnic

Red and white checked sheets, under a tree

I’d bring the flowers and i would imagine you’d bring a basket of food

We’ll have a side of orange juice

It wont be perfect but well know this time that there is an army of ants waiting to invade

full of temptations and pride

but i’ll hold you ever closer to my chest

as if you were the rib taken out of my side.

Breathe, I’d remind you, just keep breathing.

sincerely, your first love

Friendship

Based on the friendship of David and Jonathan.

Lets make a toast.

For if we die tonight, we die as friends.

To the moments when family was often too far away and the days brought their hardships like cargo ships arriving at the harbor eager to leave their load on our shoulders

They’d call us battle men. You’d be the archer and I the swordsman.

Holding the bow in your hand as if playing a harp, striking each arrow with precise sound.

I still remember the days when we spent nights talking, not of rubbish, but things that true men speak about, things of valor, things that made a difference in my life.

When we spoke about God,

when we spoke about our Sin

when we spoke of things that didn’t involve just women,

but the life we have within

to the Moments when we spoke like true men of God.

and of Faith

and God

and of Virtue

and God

and of martyrs

and God

When we spoke about Righteousness!

( Remember:Take a deep breath Danny)

but when I lost justice,

and began to hate kindness, and have ran with pride

when It felt like all were abandoning me

you still walked by my side!

Encouragement isn’t a lost word with you, neither is hospitality.

you took me in, you dressed me with your robe, took your sword and sat me on your

throne!

From the day I slew my enemy, giant as he may be, you saw courage that i couldn’t

see.

You told me that vitality wasn’t something your born with, but that it grows within

people, a selected, just a few.

and I know now that it wasn’t just me, but in you too.

That red wood forest never lacked strength except when first grown, and im still

growing

Jonathan!

our spirits were mended by a thread purer than Gold.

God led,

my friend,

no more running

let’s find this Vigor once more

I’m tired of sleeping in caves and hiding myself away

this mask isn’t fitting anymore

i need to know that there is someone who i can take it off in front of and not feel

ashamed.

(break, breathe)

I told you the story of the day i realized i didn’t have a father

it was in first grade, do you remember?

I had all the joy of a jungle to play.

Climbing trees of imagined red woods, and swinging high above the earth.

Laughter that would heal a hospital,

with eyes that would lighten up when ever they saw a train on tracks moving, shaking, rattling, yelling and declaring its strength to the world

they still do that you know

but at that one moment, reality forced its way into a boy with dreams of a home he would never have.

taking refuge in a desk that was indestructible.

wiping tears, those tears

muffling the sounds of unattainable dreams.

I put on a mask that day that pinned both sides of my cheeks to look like hills against a sunrise, being 6 years old

and I didn’t even know.

Its held like concrete, but it broke one night when we spoke of dreams.

I dreamed.

and you dreamed of how great it would be to have been brothers!

now all im left with is memories of you, this toast is all to late

your cup is already empty, and im left standing here alone making a toast to a friend who is breathless.

buried in a Forest of red wood trees to remind me that it was spirit that planted you there.

So let’s make a toast for when you died that night we died as friends.

Beautiful Awakening

Waking up to the morning sun beaming through the curtains, you can get either 2 feelings: annoyance, thinking that those curtains need a little thickening, or the feeling of glad awakening of a day to live.

You don’t know what to expect.

Most of the times we are more scared of what the day holds than night itself.

but when i woke up to the sun today, the lid popped open as if we were going to toast for the best day ever

the bottled up feeling came flooding out

I would call it love

and we celebrated together.

At night our hearts thumped to the rhythm or love. Each beat resonates in your lungs calling out my name.

In the morning Our eyes will open as if in cue, lips smiling for the chorus of the day.

There is an opera in your chest.

My laugh is your base line through the toughest day.

Every laughter is a composition that can’t be written down because lines hold boundaries and joy has none.

we will meet on a star 92,960,000 miles away where our love would burn forever. The solar system would rejoice with us. The moon would reflect our love through the darkest night, and bring in the tide to our wandering ship.

I believe i haven’t met you yet. But if time would allow, I would rewind the clock and ask our father Adam a question, how was it when you first saw perfection.

Was your mind racing for something to say, heart pacing, were your caterpillar insides turning into butterflies the instant you saw her eyes.

Give me a hint, of how it will be when i see her.

Will it be a subtle friendship, bond strengthening, connection

Or a lightning bolt shock, that makes my heart leap looking for direction

Either one i’d prefer

So no more flower picking, petal plucking in love’s name

For all flowers are synthetic, plastic filled, fictitious, counterfeit copies of you.

Because until the day i meet you if your’e a sun-flower, then i’d be a bumble bee. Looking for the sweetest honey

So today. I’m going to live as if she is living with me.

We will walk the same earth, breath the same air. see the same sky, and wake up to the same morning sun.

What a Beautiful Awakening.

“That night when you kissed me, I left a poem in your mouth, and you can hear some of the lines every time you breathe out.”

— Andrea Gibson, Yarn (via lorthequeerling)

(Source: whiskeyrivers, via thestriversrow)

To The Dude Who: To The Dude Who knows that nothing easy is worth doing.

tothedudewho:

To the dude who grinds it out in the design lab, alone until three in the morning. The dude who stays in the library when everyone has left. To the dude who sketches and re-sketches his architecture blueprints until his pencil is no more. To the dude who analyzes numbers and trends until his…

(Source: liontigerwolf)