A poem, reflecting on James 3

The words in a man’s heart are oft words he dare not speak

lest he make a world of enemies. Oft these words are tainted things

less profanity and more truth. Sometimes the words in a man’s heart

praise the One who laid the stars, and other times they curse the man of whom he is the seed. Though these things ought not be, they are. And men of many words must live in that reality, adding salt to what they voice and rebuke to secret words inside.

Some Poetry: "The Hostage" and "Looking for God"

The Hostage:

I remember the encounter well

It is the story that I now tell.

There I stood, atop the ledge

With all devices in my hand;

Gun and rope and wire and knife.

I was prepared to take my life

The man below spoke soft and slow

He was a man I did not know.

Minutes in, I knew that man did I oppose.

For no friend of peace was I, I know.

The ledge now gone, a memory.

I am grateful for the life I do now lead

For the outcome I am thankful.

Indeed, guns sometimes tell messy stories

But that’s not the tale you’ll hear from me.

For that day upon the ledge, the man who talked me down, the victory he won.

For it was God who said “Let’s talk-just put down your gun.”

(based on a section of this interview with C.S. Lewis http://www.cbn.com/special/Narnia/articles/ans_LewisLastInterviewA.aspx)

Looking for God:

I wonder if we are all looking for God

And mistake it too often for freedom.

We leave small town life

For the lust of city lights

The lie we buy says that we are better than most

As we set out to make our claim, our claim amongst the steel and concrete temples of New Amsterdam, that never sleeping giant.

.

After all my years were spent, I found that life would not relent;

And so I died with dreams unmet and not fulfilled. Life became

Redundancy, looking for God in places he was not

So in the grave my body slept, my soul retreating to the depths.

I wonder if we are all

Looking for God where he is not at all

Like freedom or New Amsterdam.

(Based on a tweet by Jamie Tworkowski. You can follow him on Twitter at http://twitter.com/#!/jamietworkowski) 

"To be young in New York or anywhere. Everyone doing what they want and calling it freedom. i wonder if we're all just looking for God."-Jamie Tworkowski

Why are you downcast, O my soul? (A Poem)

Why are you downcast, O my soul?

Why do you fall so easily?

I’ll tell you why.

You are weak, and fickle and full of lust

And you don’t trust those who love you

You think that you can do everything by yourself

But then you get to feeling like you do now

And you feel so alone and would take a life for a way out.

You’re looking to score and no, not in sports.

You’d kill for the whisky that takes the pain away

Or a joint just to kill the voices

You’d trade the progress you’ve made so far for the kiss of that whores mouth

Just so you could feel somebody close.

And so I ask again, why are you downcast, O my soul?

You don’t trust the man that saved you

And so you tie on your spandex cape

And you try to play the hero

But it never works does it?

You can’t stop the bullets that piece you to the core

And you can’t stop that thundering train that is racing toward you

And so to comfort yourself, you’ll retreat even more

Losing more and more of the few days you have left.

And so I ask again, why are you downcast, O my soul?