The Cliff

Trembling.

My guts tied in a perfect not.

Keeping me grounded.

I am going to jump of the cliff.

Go, Jump, Do it, Don’t think about it

Go, Jump Adolf.

I yell and shout from the top of my lungs.

Along the journey I am reminded of

all the time I sat on the left side of the couch with my friend.

Go, go to university.

Go, go talk to her.

If you want to do go do it.

Go jump off the cliff.

Because I can't do it.

You see, I can't swim.

Toes hanging in the air,

Feet planted on this piece of rock.

I look down. I am going to die.

Gripping anxiety rushes through me and hugs me tighter than mom.

I want to take a moment to check how much my hands are shaking. I am not going to miss this.

Adolf took turns giving his cells a chance to see the view.

Up and down, back and forth.

Just when he thought he had seen enough, he takes one more trip forth only to make sure and take a the trip back again.

We watched and waited.

We were determined not to leave him there but to get him here, where we stood  looking up at him.

"Go, jump, jump!" I shouted louder.

So desperately wanting to stand    here.

The shaking turned to a vibrating to the pit of my stomach.

Then I lost sight of my senses.

All that was left was me and my mind.

'stop it.' I told her.

'Don’t think about it.' I said.

'Go, jump, JUMP!' I jumped.

I don’t recall flying, but floating in

It felt safe, tight and perfect in the longest 1…2…3...seconds.

 I was waiting for friends to come get me.

They were waiting for me to swim up

But you see...the thing is I can't swim and its hard to kick when your thighs are on fire.

Goodie Bag

Walking looking at the sky/crowding every memory / that follows behind/ memories of me around/

Feeling a little insecure inside/

Trying to remember why/ looking all around/can't find the reason/ but don't care much/ later not sooner it will fall away where it belong with the rest of them in my bag./

Walking looking at the sky/ today I choose to look up/ I choose to see the blue/ I choose to toss all the goodness I have left/ into the air and watch as the cottons turns into an elephant, daisy, turtle, babies, heart, heart, heart.

When later arrives I will be sure to not to look behind/ I will be sure to run/ I will be sure of you, I will be.

Still walking looking at the sky /saving all the goodness I have left/ saving it for you/

I wonder what you will say or what you see/ when I paint my righteousness about. Will you see my cotton, bubbles, fluff, cloud, mist,... and fade?/ will you fade away to my phobias, not so secure place, my pain, terrors, snobbish, pride, arrogance, bitter and unforgiving place, my bad-ies.

I want you look at my goodness/at those baby turtle daisy elephants/ I want you to see my heart.

Walking looking at the sky/ crowding every memory that follows behind/ memories of me around you/ feeling a little insecure inside/ I guess sooner came rather than later/ you still look at my bad-ies but later not sooner will soon come around/ and they will fall away where they belong with the rest of them./ and I will fill my goodies bag with soft stuffing for you to launch across the blue. This might to be a love metrical composition/ where I will tell you what to see/ today I chose to leave the bad-ies at home/ I choose to fill up with sweet stuff/ I choose to walk to the sky.

Story Teller

I am the story teller

Tell me and I will reach the destined ears.

I am the story teller

Tell me and I will carry your load with me

I who makes yours my own will take up your banner

I will wave it

I will stand like a leaf in the wind,

I will be the touch down anchor for your surfboat

I will chain you to your cell

I, your story teller will be you just for now.

I am your author.

I will describe, define, and defend to defile you.

Covering you with warm words

I read you a discussion of might bes' after I skilfully lay the story down.

I will tack you in and kiss you with assurance

My lamp burns throughout the night

Word after word

So you can awake to something sounding new.

When the word is out

I follow.

I am a story teller.

I Desire You.

My deepest desire is to have Him walking right next to me.

I want to hear Him talking to me, 

I want to die so I can touch Your wounds and see your face, 

I want to kiss Your feet.

My deepest desire...I want to hug You.

I want to dilute in Your presence always.

But if time will make that day better when it come, then

I shall wait.

If Your presence will overwhelm me, then 

I will bring Your people with me.

If on that day I will talk too much, like I tend to do, then

I will read Your Word to enjoy the sweet sound of just Your voice.

Jesus, oh, Jesus. I can not wait to say thank-You. Thank You, Thank You,

glory to You.

I can not wait to see Your face, for my eyes to be blinded by Your delight. 

I desire You, I desire You.

Running with a Pen

I see traces everywhere.

With so much detail in the mark I fear self-control is out of reach.

I am caught in the middle.

I do not know where to start? Left, right, up, back, around the bend?

There are traces everywhere.

I see a young man on my left, I start there and tell myself.

"I follow his trace until I think I know enough get out of this track."

I wrote about his love and his heart break, that was good to make me turn right.

There are traces everywhere.

On my right I meet an elderly.

I follow her trace, write about her joys and her pains and her children and her visions, that was good to make me turn back.

I think I know enough to get out of this scribble.

On my way I am drown in a canvas.

I feel a bit of blue with a hint of greenish yellowish inside an almost red, that kind of red that says Paris. The bottom was flowing with shades of grey and purple sort of pinkish maybe even orange busting with light.

So I wrote that down, that was good to make me go around it before I get confused.

Around I find a stranger on a trace.

I ask him where he is going and he says he is following a trace out of the page.

The stranger was good enough for me not to write a thing.

Like me he leaves no traces just follows them.

Like me he runs with a pen that marks everywhere but the writers heart.

Like me he tells stories.

Loving what God gives

Loving What God gives...

‘There will always come a time when you are not doing what you love to do while you in a presence of someone else doing what you rather be doing and you would totally love to do but can’t. When we get to those places we must not try and stand out of the crowd and prove that you we can do it better because simply if we could we would be doing that right? I like to look at this time as a time of being molded, for a lack of better words. This time is where you give others a chance to love it too, prepare for your turn, find new love if you dare, perseverance and for God to speck new life. I will make an example out of myself.

I love writing, love it like its the only way I could ever see myself breathing purpose, I love drama too not to act per say but to direct, to write every line the exists the characters mouth and to enjoy watching paper and idea come to live on stage and lastly I love reciting: to stand and see people questioning and seeing things in a way they never thought before, to look into their eyes and challenge them, to connect with many as one (even the thought gives me goose bumbs and that beat is back in me again as I write this).

Of cause there are other things I love too like helping the church, missions, teaching children, taking pictures and meeting new people.

Others to love it too.

But what I love I am far from doing, I can write in my diary, I write on Facebook, I can updated my blog but that is just a pitch of salt because I have to sit and watch while many around get to do what I would love to do and I do an office job and study when I feel up for it and think the rest of the time I play the IWCG (If, Would and Could Game). Going from poetry and  drama lessons and directing a part of a big concert at the youth, to just writing in my diary for two, and still going strong, years has not (in the slightest) been easy. I do not know yet why God has put me here but I know two things for sure. One, that it is not in vine that I am doing what I am doing and secondly even thou I wish it was me I do enjoy watching others love it too. This lesson is not for the fate heartedJ

Preparing.

Honestly as much as I love all the thing I mentioned above I know I don’t write or act or direct half as good as I know I should and one day will. My poetry teacher, Zee, use to say our performance is as good as our last, so make the recite, entertain, capture hearts like its your last time, prepare and practice to expect the unexpected. And just the other day I had coffee with Leigh, I really good friend of mine, and she said that every job is a preparation of the next job. They both right in many ways than what I am trying to explain. At the moment it feels like am never going to leave this job, like I am not talented enough and that I would am a dreamer to love all those things, but as I said I am playing the IWCG. I know I will recite, direct and write but for now I need to plan out my performance, to write and study my poems. I need to write the play that will change the world.

Finding new love.

I wish I was taking about Mr Right but I am not, that will be for the next whatever I am doing thing. During this time of what feels like pre-death I have come to love many things I always thought I hated and never had enough patience for, like being around children. And a year in and I can stand the sight of kidsJ. I can now explore, try new things, be something else and not worry about what is expected of me because when people know what you good at, then that is what they will know you by, until 'better' comes strolling along. Point is when one door closes the other one opens. God does a lot of work during this time, not that he never works hard, but in this time your heart changes and in a way becomes a little bit more to what God wants it to be like. I know think about the things I love and ask myself: is this God given love? How can I use that to tell God how much I love Him? Is God’s heart in there too?

Perseverance

Just last week I told God how I had lost my dreams and that I lost focus. I have been waiting so long for something that I became impatient. Its hard waiting for something to come along but when 'whatever' comes  But I know one day I will find myself in a similar place but it will be different because God teaches me something for the road ahead. Perseverance.’

I wrote this piece in April and called it 'Love' but over time the handing had to change as all things do, to 'Loving what God gives.'. I wrote it with the intention of printing it and keeping it in my diary and hope that one day I will look back and encourage myself. But now that God has opened the door for me to do what I love doing (not writing, but I love that too), it feels right for me to share this, not to boost that God sometimes does let you do what you love or learned to love, which He does, but to encourage you as I hoped to encourage myself one day. Love.

Rise

The higher we

The bigger we grow.

Rise as the sun rises from the east

And shines after it rises.

If one person rises then one more can lift a chin.

If one can speak up then one more word can be heard

One more person learns to listen
there will be one less cry, one less burden to carry.

If one less person morns one more accepts,

One more appreciates.

Rise so you can see and be seen.

Rise so you can shine and may-be

A light that others might seek.

If one knows God and reflects the God in them

Then the rest shall follow.

If you rise than we will see the world in your through you.

So rise, arise, rise and shine.

If I make a beat you might dance.

If I smile you might laugh.

If I disagree you might fight,

But if I fall and you fall than...

Who will rise?

I wrote this poem more than 4 years back and I can't remember what I was thinking about but whatever it is I tried to capture as much as I could. Otherwise make what you feel.