Tag Archives: Friendship

Gathering Ghosts

Some days I feel like a haloed reaper. I carry memories and tears like wings on a gargoyle. Frozen outstretched emotions of guilt that no longer feather air. Just a concrete memory that I wish I could paint back to life.

It’s time that ticks off the emotions. Weather, seasons, darkness all come like lightening. Unexpected flashes of childhood folly or adult dramas playing out as a reminder. I wonder at the places they’ve traveled in spirit; do they know?

I wonder if life in spirit is more colorful than life in body. Does pain dissipate like myst in the spirit, or does it choke you like smoke. Are you smiling down on my naïveté or cynical about my faults. Either way you speak to my understandings in a way I can’t describe and you can’t communicate.

These friends of mine aren’t “up there”. They’re everywhere I remember. Breakfast tables, playgrounds, even the train tracks we romped. I listen to us on the radio and silently hope you would approve, but in the end I am reminded you had your own ghosts.

So to carry these people and places around is an honor. I’m still here creating my ghost. Hoping I can leave the trace of an unknown smile, or a tear in a rear view mirror. I hope I can create a space where yesterday and today come together without the burden of tomorrow. A space where my loved ones can carry with them a moment in the sound of rubber in asphalt. Until then, I’ll carry Ya’all in the summer breeze and winter storm with the same warmth you’ve given me.

Breathing Ashes

Two hearts beat at opposite ends of the earth. One thuds slowly in the heat of the day while another races to sleep on a cold winter night. Human, they share the beat of a different rhythm.

Like minds stretch across continents to join a conversation of cosmic concern. One contemplates the trials of hunger while another struggles with life under fire. Human, they share the trials of life with an empathetic tone and open mind.

We share characteristics and chemicals the transcend borders and flags, but the words between us are garbled in the distance. I see you in plasma and pixels, I hear you in surround sound, but you must be more than an excerpt.

The currency and thick hands that strangle us are illusions, our blood is real, warm, and too precious to dye sidewalks and sand. Hate is the mirage that those crows caw and flap their wings at trying to stir up grit and thermal winds. If we stop for one second and look past their shiny feathers and listen to the silence we can share the wind and warm our souls, rather than scorch the earth.

I know your human, I know outside your temples, mosques, and churches you love me, I’m you, human and flesh. You can’t think of me as a person, then your dogma transgresses humanity. Silence those voices that scream and twist our humanity into a competition for an afterlife that rots in a tomb.

Now is important. You and I together can remove our amamah’s and ties, leave our books on the table, and share a meal to celebrate enlightenment from man and all his fears or greed. No one has, nor ever will, own this earth. We will all return to it and become one in the end.

Two dreamers hungry for the truth that we stand on. Feet firmly planted in souls instead of soil. We go unnoticed like the insects that forge their lives in the dirt. It’s important work, handshakes and smiles, kind words and thoughts, just two dreamers lucid and true.

Two souls dancing in a boreal existence. Colors and directions swaying between the realm of possibility and and the reality that the only places we’ll ever meet is within the wind as long as we breathe and within the earth when our ashes become dust.

Faith with legs and feet!

Show me where Christ put others before his beliefs. Never!!! Not even on the cross when others couldn’t understand did He fall to the pressures of family, culture, or religion. He hung alone with His Father. So where are you justifying being a lamb of men?

How do you justify being a follower? Christ taught us to lead, and step up your game under duress. There are so many layers to society and little room at the top; so who do you bow down to? Parents, Jesus referred to his mother as “woman”! Your community? Jesus rebuked his friends constantly. Your state? Jesus let them have what was theirs. Your church? Jesus put the Pharisees in their place along with the money changers. So how are you sitting around justifying your faith by showing up.

It’s like the guy who’s shows up to work everyday, but doesn’t do anything meaningful, except make others folks job harder. Or the friend or family member who shows up during tragic moments to find out “the scoop”. Or maybe it’s worse. You could be the one who shows up does what their told no matter and is afraid to confront the other two aforementioned folks. Jesus had no problem putting folks on blast.

Maintaining my faith is easier outside of all these places that attempt to define us. Family, culture, religion, government; all of them run contrary to your relationship with Christ. Look how many times He had to get away to come back and set things straight. We’re no different. I’m away right now, and it’s ok.

I know I’ll never be the same Christian again. I’ve had great examples of friends who demonstrated true friendship. I’ve had examples of folks whose faith “has legs and feet”. Now it’s Him and I finding me in this earthly jungle of vines. I’m happy though; and although I’m not in touch with many folks, I’m in touch with Christ and it’s good.

I don’t need religion to understand my salvation and the role it plays with others. I don’t need denominations to do good works. I don’t need corporate bible studies to network and learn about popular beliefs of Christian doctrine. I don’t need prayer groups , we’re all supposed to be doing that anyway, constantly is still a challenge though!

My relationship with Christ is no longer influenced and hopefully the little works I do here and there inspire others to reach out. I don’t hate, but won’t concede. I don’t judge, but I’ll consider. I try and fail daily to rise above my humanness, while remaining humble.

I see through these quasi political religious aristocrats espousing verses and euphemisms for political, financial, and personal gain. They don’t effect my life for the most part, but I keep abreast of the lies and misdeeds that weaken the culture and society I live in. There are beautiful folks out there doing wonderful deeds just for the sake of humanity. These are the heights I aspire to.

I’m stronger in my faith and stronger in my heart. I hope everyone steps out with their faith and we don’t need labels or causes to do good things for the sake of good. Christ will survive religion or denominations in my heart. Until then I’ll just continue to try to look for the good in everyone and pray for the best.

Opaque Facade

I’m particular in pieces and parts you cannot see. I’m light years away from all that noise that that leaves you pasty and jittering like flesh without sun. I’m past tired and exhausted with your glazed twitching eyes.

I’m whole now that you are fragmented. Walking a path of broken mosaic hearts that bleed mud every step you take. You stumble and stutter spewing broken shards of plastic along a wooded landscape. I see your trail of trash talk echoing from dank corners. Your eyes quivering in the dark recesses of yesterday.

You can’t come into the light for all to hear or see. Once your known the fear will become laughter and joy will replace apprehension. The lie will dissipate into a truth seen by all. Then you’ll have to return to who you really are, us.

So now your dark opaque facade is melting. A glass menagerie of past dread, present fear, and future anxiety. You tried to hide behind me, but us is stronger than fear, we is stronger than apprehension, and together they make us whole. This is where life resides.

All you seen was you.

Neurons fire in a cyclonic fashion
Creating chaos within stolid eyes.
Ideas and fears swirl in and around hopes and dreams leaving thought littered with debri. And all you see is me.

Turmoil hidden beneath the stone facade framing crystal blue orbs. The whisper of my voice radiated through the smile belying the half truths I swallow to feed the storm. And all you hear is me.

The thunder reverberates along my spine without knowledge of the thought like branches clattering not knowing the wind, or it’s direction. All this collateral damage and all you feel is me.

Rain cleanses my soul through a curtain of prismatic pain like pollen being washed from trees mixing with oil streaked puddles swirling green and blue. I stare within and wonder at the bitter hold life had on me, and now my clouded thoughts are pierced with beams of hope. And all you taste is me.

I knew the storm was coming, but you just kept talking unable to smell the humid wet warning of what’s to come. The rain sends its scent whispering through trees and traffic as a warning of more than getting wet. You couldn’t read my stillness, all you could smell was the possibility of me.

It’s all about intuition. The sixth sense that warns us to pay attention to the other five. We can feel with our eyes, see with a touch, or hear with our heart, but only if we listen with our soul what our spirit sees. And all you ever were is numb to me.

Since it’s Sunday

Gilded doors open wide to the smell of varnished wood and the soft steps of carpeted footprints. Light filters through stained glass murals creating shards of majestic light. Empty moments wait in anticipation.

The cross hangs centered high above the lectern framed by ornate chairs creating an isle of redemption. The rows of spindles form a line of demarcation between the masses and the messengers; and the only thing between them are the soft cushioned shelf to kneel.

Words and bread are washed down with wine and meanings fermented for centuries. Centuries of roles played out to the rhythm and design of a place called sanctuary. A place where freedom has boundaries.

And then the day when the silence of tradition is shattered by pain and misfortune wrapped in elegance and smiles. Feathered hats and stiff shirts ruffle in a truth remembered. Thunderous truths that remind us that it’s ok to “fall short”. This is the one truth that keeps our commitments in line with the architecture of reality.

Then the reality of silence reminds us hypocrisy is necessary to further the cause. The less fortunate need our contempt to remind them that blessings are earned; that faith has a reward as evident by you’re place in the pews.

Then the gilded doors open wide to the light of truth. The soft winds of the world caress the idea that prayer is what separates the chosen for posterity. Handshakes and hugs are safe amongst the forgiven; so now the armor of God will protect the chosen from the filth as they go forward into the world they strive to order.

These remnants of historical fiction are embedded in the souls of structure. Humanity was lost on the fulcrum of Christ. Nothing is Holy. It’s man’s desire to rule that perpetuates truths as a parody of faith.

Christ lived amongst the people outdoors where no one was homeless. Where everyone was lost in the idea of humanity as one. The church was where they traveled; in a grove, in a house, or on a boat they ate, breathed, and believed.

His words inspired the world to goodness; not in a book, not in a building, but in a gaze where breath and flesh pressed the meaning of goodness into acts of kindness.

So now I travel as one, not alone, but within an ancient truth passed down through time and thought. Born unto me through the simple truths of good and bad, right and wrong. He was not the Author, but the messenger who gave his life for the truths I’ve known since birth. And I’m the only man that owns this for myself, everyone else is a usurper.

Spiritual legacy

Twisted realities spin around my mind leaving my soul to wander in search of sanity. I know we’re not alone in our grief and confusion, but it seems spirits don’t communicate with words.

Words don’t unite or divide us like friendships aren’t about hugs and handshakes. It’s sentiment that knows no boundaries between space and time. What we share our spirits have carried across time, through space, without a sound.

It’s the whisper we can’t hear that gets our attention. Knowing has no real value. Feeling is the essence of humanity. Our minds have become lazy over time and just want to dichotomize the world into verbal confusion.

Troubled souls travel inside broken vessels looking for kindred spirits. Our souls reside within our hearts while our spirits wander for peace. All the while we open our minds to distorted spaces furnished with illusion.

One day my spirit will make it back to my soul and nestle safely in my brain where we will Rest In Peace. Until then ill Rest In Distortion holding onto truth like a buoy in the expanses of an ocean.