He stood at the shore line with his eyes shut, whispering Her name. The name of The girl he meet at that beach. A girl that he feel in love with by the sea. A girl that he proposed to and married by that sea. Their love story was not a fairy tale. Their love was put to the test, and there were fights but no matter how hard things got they never forgot this shore. The shore reminded them of the purity of the love they shared. suddenly the cause of the argument would be put into prescriptive. Finances and other mundane things that couples seem to argue about drifted into the sea. The Beach was a sanctuary, and the shore line was an altar. With that line of thinking however one could say that would make her a sacrifice. For one day their beloved sea turned on them, and claimed her life.
The waves crashed that gray February afternoon. This beach held one thousand memories for him, perhaps more. Perhaps A memory for each grain of sand. The anguish on his face was almost unbearable to witness. The pain of loss, though now years old still left fresh wounds. Those wounds where now bleeding uncontrollably leaving his body close to lifeless. Lifeless. That's how “Life” with out her has been for him. As if when the sea took her it took his blood, his oxygen, his spirit and he was now a lifeless,soulless being who was simply existing day to day. There was an odd sensation that was ripping him apart from the inside. It was a ruthless vortex made up of a paradoxical combination of numbness and a sense of pain that was so merciless that at times he could feel the pain filling his lungs, then clogging his wind pipe and choke him violently. It was more brutal than that through because the pain would not let him pass out, or die. The pain left him to exist breathless.
Tears were pounding at the floodgates of his eyes as the turmoil continued to rage, and once more he whispered her name. As he breathed her name and for a brief beautiful moment something glorious happened, everything was fine. Her name was a drug. He could feel the sensation of it's essences racing through his veins. At first it just brought him peace, but what a fantastic feat that was. Just the sound of her name calmed the storm inside himself that only moments ago was ripping up his insides, like a hurricane uprooting trees, shutting off his vital organs one by one with out letting him know the rest of death. Now, now all that was gone and all he knew was peace. It was like an eye of a storm. That peace was soon joined by unmatchable joy. For just the sound of her name took him to another plane of existence, another state of consciousness as the smile of the lovestruck over came him. For In his mind and soul he was entangled in her arms. affection, as electrical currents, flowing through their bodies. It was the kind of affection you only see in the movies. They were young, in love, and in paradise alone together. He was overwhelmed by emotions he thought he was no longer capable of feeling. Emotions he'd given up on knowing again.As he touched her face reality hit, as did the nightmarish realization that it was just a dream. She was not really there. She was gone, as she'd been.
He looked out into the sea. All the joy it brought him and all the pain it brought him all boiling inside of him. Her angel and his demons grabbing onto his very being and with a supernatural strength ripping his soul into two very different places. A tremendous battle of hope and despair with massive casualties on both sides all taking place at his very core. He wanted to stay strong if only for the sake of her ghost. He couldn't though, the chaos brought him to his knees and he yelled her name. No one heard. He yelled her name over and over out into the sea that took her. Soon his throat became dry as sand. Exhausted from the screaming and being over run with pain he fell. His face now planted in the sand. His hands groping for something to hold on to, his tight grip only causing the sand to slip through his fingers. He wept. He wept uncontrollably, with out shame, until he had no more tears left.
Fall 2010
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
The Account
I am called Zebiyan. This is the account of what I saw, what I witnessed first hand and what I experienced. I will not exaggerated the things I saw. I do not need to, they do not need any embellishment to be fantastic. Nor, Will I leave anything out. I refuse to deny what I saw. How simple that would be, to pretend that none of this is real. To say that the miracles I saw where just hoaxes . To say the death was stage, that it was not really him on the cross. It would be easy to say that my fellow believers and I just stole the body and that we asked and paid five hundred people to claim to see The Lord after his death .There are several theories to try and rob Jesus of who he truly was, who he truly is.To the advocates of such theories all I will say for now is this: Stephen is dead.
Things happened so fast. I have much to tell you ,and much to fill you in on. I will give each happening a worthy telling in my later accounts, for now though let me tell you how I came to begin to follow The Christ. I was living in Jerusalem at the time. I heard about The Miracle Worker before, yet, I never really knew what to think. One moment people were parsing him. Telling tales of him healing the blind and the lame.How he was Giving hope to the hopeless and publicly leaving the lawyers and High Priest dumbfound by his understanding of his law and his teaching . Then I would hear that he would tell the crowds to eat of his flesh and drink his blood, that he made claims of blasphemy, or that in a rage he flipped tables at a temple. So when it was said that a beloved friend of his was ill, and that he would be sure to heal him, I had to go see for myself. Then something happened. As I was walking to the town where the sick man was I meet a man coming from the other direction. He said that the Teacher was there, but The man was dead, and had been for days. I was stunned. I kept walking though. I heard that once before a synagogue rulers daughter was ill, and even died, yet this man was able to bring her back. Something in me knew that this was not over. As I reached my destination the the dead mans sister, Mary, ran out of the house in tears. Myself and some others followed after her. That was the first time I saw him, a grieving women at his feet, and others mourners surrounding him. "Where have you laid him?” He asked. A group showed him the sight of the tomb.Then something heart wrenching, unforeseeable, and glorious happened. Jesus wept. He fell to his knees and started to weep. Some mocked the Healer, others were awestruck by this display. It was then that he got up, dried his tears, raised his eyes to the heavens and in a voice that we all could hear began to pray “Father, I thank you that you have heard me. I knew that you always hear me, but I said this on account of the people standing around, that they may believe that you sent me." It was then in a mighty voice he commanded "Lazarus, come out” . Lazarus, who was dead, came out. A dead man heard and obeyed His voice. It was at that point that I knew that this man, was God. That this event that I witnessed and what it proved would literally change my life forever. I heard some of the others talk afterward. Saying that they were going to tell the chief priests and the Pharisees of the things they saw. I had no idea what that would lead to.
It wasn't to long after that that he rode into Jerusalem Triumphantly. I was There. I laid down palm branches in his path. I cried Hosanna. The overwhelming joy over me that day. To think that we had finally found the one to deliver us from the iron fist of Rome. I was in the crowd during his "trial", I heard Pilots offer. I heard them plead for Barabbas and I heard them cry out for Jesus to be crucified. At times it still rings in my ears, those hateful cries “Crucify him, Crucify him' I did not say a word. What was stirring in me that day fear, defeat, hopelessness, Disappointment, shame. I was there as he walked up to the place of the skull. I was there when when the sky went black, I was there when he breathed Tetelestai. I was there when the rumors of his empty tomb started to appear three days later. I ran to the tomb, it was as they said, empty. Later on I saw the Lord myself. I was there when he rose up into the heavens. I was there when the Fire Of God came down. I was one of those who spoke in many tongues, and they thought us drunk. The acts we did. The wonders we saw. The Truth we proclaimed. The hatred we faced, the animosity, Stephen is dead. I am called Zebiyan and this is my account of the final days of the Saviors life, his death, and his undeniable Resurrection, and the continuing story of those he left to proclaim his truth.
Fall 2010
Things happened so fast. I have much to tell you ,and much to fill you in on. I will give each happening a worthy telling in my later accounts, for now though let me tell you how I came to begin to follow The Christ. I was living in Jerusalem at the time. I heard about The Miracle Worker before, yet, I never really knew what to think. One moment people were parsing him. Telling tales of him healing the blind and the lame.How he was Giving hope to the hopeless and publicly leaving the lawyers and High Priest dumbfound by his understanding of his law and his teaching . Then I would hear that he would tell the crowds to eat of his flesh and drink his blood, that he made claims of blasphemy, or that in a rage he flipped tables at a temple. So when it was said that a beloved friend of his was ill, and that he would be sure to heal him, I had to go see for myself. Then something happened. As I was walking to the town where the sick man was I meet a man coming from the other direction. He said that the Teacher was there, but The man was dead, and had been for days. I was stunned. I kept walking though. I heard that once before a synagogue rulers daughter was ill, and even died, yet this man was able to bring her back. Something in me knew that this was not over. As I reached my destination the the dead mans sister, Mary, ran out of the house in tears. Myself and some others followed after her. That was the first time I saw him, a grieving women at his feet, and others mourners surrounding him. "Where have you laid him?” He asked. A group showed him the sight of the tomb.Then something heart wrenching, unforeseeable, and glorious happened. Jesus wept. He fell to his knees and started to weep. Some mocked the Healer, others were awestruck by this display. It was then that he got up, dried his tears, raised his eyes to the heavens and in a voice that we all could hear began to pray “Father, I thank you that you have heard me. I knew that you always hear me, but I said this on account of the people standing around, that they may believe that you sent me." It was then in a mighty voice he commanded "Lazarus, come out” . Lazarus, who was dead, came out. A dead man heard and obeyed His voice. It was at that point that I knew that this man, was God. That this event that I witnessed and what it proved would literally change my life forever. I heard some of the others talk afterward. Saying that they were going to tell the chief priests and the Pharisees of the things they saw. I had no idea what that would lead to.
It wasn't to long after that that he rode into Jerusalem Triumphantly. I was There. I laid down palm branches in his path. I cried Hosanna. The overwhelming joy over me that day. To think that we had finally found the one to deliver us from the iron fist of Rome. I was in the crowd during his "trial", I heard Pilots offer. I heard them plead for Barabbas and I heard them cry out for Jesus to be crucified. At times it still rings in my ears, those hateful cries “Crucify him, Crucify him' I did not say a word. What was stirring in me that day fear, defeat, hopelessness, Disappointment, shame. I was there as he walked up to the place of the skull. I was there when when the sky went black, I was there when he breathed Tetelestai. I was there when the rumors of his empty tomb started to appear three days later. I ran to the tomb, it was as they said, empty. Later on I saw the Lord myself. I was there when he rose up into the heavens. I was there when the Fire Of God came down. I was one of those who spoke in many tongues, and they thought us drunk. The acts we did. The wonders we saw. The Truth we proclaimed. The hatred we faced, the animosity, Stephen is dead. I am called Zebiyan and this is my account of the final days of the Saviors life, his death, and his undeniable Resurrection, and the continuing story of those he left to proclaim his truth.
Fall 2010
“Does he get the Girl?”
At no particular point in time. At no particular place, there was a writer. Well not so much a writer as much as a boy who wanted to be a writer. He enjoyed writing about many things, but out of everything and anything the boy could write about, the boy enjoyed writing about love the most. The boy had his heart broken many times before, but this didn't stop his fascination with a very Idealistic concept of love. His friends teased him saying that we was to obsessed with it.
One day the boy was sitting in a field, writing of course, when a girl walked by. She saw the boy and stopped and smiled. To caught up in writing about past heart brakes and the idea of writing a timeless romance to really think to much about the girl, the boy almost paid her no mind. However, the boy finally looked up and smiled back. The Boy did feel a little alone and figured that he could use the company so he asked the girl to sit next to him.
The girl sat down and the two begin to talk, kind of. The boy was still in his own little world. Since the girl wanted to talk to the boy but he wasn't talking much she did most of the talking. As she was going on and on about anything that crossed her mind just to keep the “conversation” going, The boy got a smile on his face as something amazing began to happen inside of him. He felt something that he had not felt in a very long time. With this he started writing about a boy and a girl.
“Do you want me to just go”, asked the girl, very discouraged by his silence, not knowing of the thoughts in the boy's head.
The boy Remained silent, lost in his new found inspiration. Words started to swiftly fill the page. As he wrote he started to see a new sense of fulfillment and happiness, He started to see his fairy tale, and he started to see his very realistic feature with her by his side. He started to see all this in the girl that was about to walk away. He knew the girl was about to leave and with that everything he was now writing would just be a lost hope. Yet he could not stop writing. Not until he had something that was so powerful, so meaningful, so moving, that the girl could not help but see what he did.
“Forget it” the girl sighed, but right as the girl stood up to walk away, the boy stopped her. He wasn't sure what to tell her or where to start. He fumbled over his words for a moment. The girl looked at him, puzzled and some what annoyed. He wasn't done writing, but he couldn't let her walk away, not until she understood.
“See, I'm writing a story. A story about a boy and this girl.” the boy was nervous, but a smile began to over take his face. He handed the story to the girl “Could, could you read this?”
“Sure” the girl says, still confused and annoyed. As she read the boy was trying to read her, trying to gain some insight into what she was thinking as she was reading, but the girls face give him no clues. “It's not done yet". The boy said anxiously." See I have to where the boy and the girl meet. Then I have that The Boy falls for her. I mean, he falls for her hard. I think that maybe the girl. I don't know. This may sound weird but I am just so stuck on the ending. Do you think you could finish it” The girl gave the boy a confused look. “Could you write the end of the story for me?”
The Girl sat down and reached out her hand to take the boy's pen. The boy knew how he wanted it to end, with her in his arms forever, but it was no longer up to him. He gave her the pen. The girl thought for a moment and began to write. The boy's hands started to sweat and his heart began to race as did his mind, each moment seemed to last for years. The girl stopped writing. The boy's heart stopped beating. “Well” said the boy. His voice now soft and meek, braking against silence. He was not sure why but his eyes started to water. He asked the question that has been asked a thousand times before. “Does he get the Girl?”
Sumer 2010
One day the boy was sitting in a field, writing of course, when a girl walked by. She saw the boy and stopped and smiled. To caught up in writing about past heart brakes and the idea of writing a timeless romance to really think to much about the girl, the boy almost paid her no mind. However, the boy finally looked up and smiled back. The Boy did feel a little alone and figured that he could use the company so he asked the girl to sit next to him.
The girl sat down and the two begin to talk, kind of. The boy was still in his own little world. Since the girl wanted to talk to the boy but he wasn't talking much she did most of the talking. As she was going on and on about anything that crossed her mind just to keep the “conversation” going, The boy got a smile on his face as something amazing began to happen inside of him. He felt something that he had not felt in a very long time. With this he started writing about a boy and a girl.
“Do you want me to just go”, asked the girl, very discouraged by his silence, not knowing of the thoughts in the boy's head.
The boy Remained silent, lost in his new found inspiration. Words started to swiftly fill the page. As he wrote he started to see a new sense of fulfillment and happiness, He started to see his fairy tale, and he started to see his very realistic feature with her by his side. He started to see all this in the girl that was about to walk away. He knew the girl was about to leave and with that everything he was now writing would just be a lost hope. Yet he could not stop writing. Not until he had something that was so powerful, so meaningful, so moving, that the girl could not help but see what he did.
“Forget it” the girl sighed, but right as the girl stood up to walk away, the boy stopped her. He wasn't sure what to tell her or where to start. He fumbled over his words for a moment. The girl looked at him, puzzled and some what annoyed. He wasn't done writing, but he couldn't let her walk away, not until she understood.
“See, I'm writing a story. A story about a boy and this girl.” the boy was nervous, but a smile began to over take his face. He handed the story to the girl “Could, could you read this?”
“Sure” the girl says, still confused and annoyed. As she read the boy was trying to read her, trying to gain some insight into what she was thinking as she was reading, but the girls face give him no clues. “It's not done yet". The boy said anxiously." See I have to where the boy and the girl meet. Then I have that The Boy falls for her. I mean, he falls for her hard. I think that maybe the girl. I don't know. This may sound weird but I am just so stuck on the ending. Do you think you could finish it” The girl gave the boy a confused look. “Could you write the end of the story for me?”
The Girl sat down and reached out her hand to take the boy's pen. The boy knew how he wanted it to end, with her in his arms forever, but it was no longer up to him. He gave her the pen. The girl thought for a moment and began to write. The boy's hands started to sweat and his heart began to race as did his mind, each moment seemed to last for years. The girl stopped writing. The boy's heart stopped beating. “Well” said the boy. His voice now soft and meek, braking against silence. He was not sure why but his eyes started to water. He asked the question that has been asked a thousand times before. “Does he get the Girl?”
Sumer 2010
Her Dance
If words could make you fall in love,
would mine have that power?
Could they draw you to me?
Make you leave what you have?
Even if they could, would I let them?
After all love is not selfish.
But what if I was?
Who says you wouldn’t be as happy with me?
What if we could be greater?
Yet, who am I to cut in
It's your dance
and even I can see it's magical
Maybe, someday, our chance will come.
But not now.
So, as for tonight
I'll keep my mind off you.
I'll ignore your glances in my direction
And as I see you happy in his arms
I'll smile
Summer 09
would mine have that power?
Could they draw you to me?
Make you leave what you have?
Even if they could, would I let them?
After all love is not selfish.
But what if I was?
Who says you wouldn’t be as happy with me?
What if we could be greater?
Yet, who am I to cut in
It's your dance
and even I can see it's magical
Maybe, someday, our chance will come.
But not now.
So, as for tonight
I'll keep my mind off you.
I'll ignore your glances in my direction
And as I see you happy in his arms
I'll smile
Summer 09
I Need It Back
Hey angel, oh sorry, old habits die-hard. But I guess at least to me you’ll always be my angel. Look, I’m not here to cause any issues I just came by to get something of mine. I believe I gave it you soon after our first kiss all those years ago . Never saw the point of ever asking for it back before because I knew I would just wind up giving it you again anyways. Don’t get me wrong there were plenty of others that I thought to give it to, plenty of others that wanted it. But I always thought that it somehow belonged to you. My friends told me how much of a bad idea it was to let you have it. All they saw was how you miss-treated it but they never saw how you would always fix it, good as new if not better. Anyways I know you don’t need it. You probably haven’t even thought about having in quite some time. It’s most likely lost somewhere, in pieces, collecting dust. Let’s face it that’s the way you usually treated it. I do remember times when you would treasure it, and keep it close, but more often than not you …didn’t treat it well to say the least. Anyways, It’s just I really need it back. You see there’s this girl, and before you ask, no, I don’t think I love her, however, I love how she’s nothing like you, so gentle, she would treat it right. Hell, maybe I should hold on to it for a while and see how she would treat it before I give it to her, who knows maybe you’ll end up with it again anyways. God, you left me with so many questions, But, I can’t look back, I can’t keep living in the past. So I guess the only thing I have to ask is this, Can I have my heart back?
Spring 09
Spring 09
certainly has changed
I saw me at fifteen
You could see the zeal in his eyes
Give him a moment of your time
He’ll tell you about God’s Power
He’s on a quest for righteousness
He’s on his feet.
Taking a stand for what’s right
Bold, unshakable
Ready to change the world
I saw me at Seventeen
Tears in his eyes
Give him a moment of your time
He’ll tell you about God’s grace
He’s looking for Redemption.
He’s on his knees
Pleading for forgiveness for all he has done wrong.
Humble, Broken
Longing to change himself
I got a good look at myself today
He wouldn’t let me look into his eyes
There’s no reason to give him a moment of your time
He has nothing to say
He doesn’t know what he is looking for
He’s on his own
Thinking only of himself
Apathetic, Passionless
He certainly has changed
Fall 08
You could see the zeal in his eyes
Give him a moment of your time
He’ll tell you about God’s Power
He’s on a quest for righteousness
He’s on his feet.
Taking a stand for what’s right
Bold, unshakable
Ready to change the world
I saw me at Seventeen
Tears in his eyes
Give him a moment of your time
He’ll tell you about God’s grace
He’s looking for Redemption.
He’s on his knees
Pleading for forgiveness for all he has done wrong.
Humble, Broken
Longing to change himself
I got a good look at myself today
He wouldn’t let me look into his eyes
There’s no reason to give him a moment of your time
He has nothing to say
He doesn’t know what he is looking for
He’s on his own
Thinking only of himself
Apathetic, Passionless
He certainly has changed
Fall 08
Does he know?
Does He know what he has?
Does He know what he has taken?
Is he even happy with her?
Does he even love her?
Are his wounds healed when she tells him she loves him?
Is his life complete only when she’s in him arms?
Dose the thought of losing her bring the taste of vomit to his mouth?
Dose the longing to taste her lips, make his physically ace?
Do all his hopes and dreams involve her?
Would his Universe crumble if she left?
Could he find meaning without her?
Without her, could he find no peace?
Does he know how many miles separate them of the top of his head?
Or the number minutes that will unite them, does he count them down?
Does he know that there is a guy waiting?
Waiting for him to slip?
Waiting for another try?
Does he know?
Fall 08
Does He know what he has taken?
Is he even happy with her?
Does he even love her?
Are his wounds healed when she tells him she loves him?
Is his life complete only when she’s in him arms?
Dose the thought of losing her bring the taste of vomit to his mouth?
Dose the longing to taste her lips, make his physically ace?
Do all his hopes and dreams involve her?
Would his Universe crumble if she left?
Could he find meaning without her?
Without her, could he find no peace?
Does he know how many miles separate them of the top of his head?
Or the number minutes that will unite them, does he count them down?
Does he know that there is a guy waiting?
Waiting for him to slip?
Waiting for another try?
Does he know?
Fall 08
The Grave
He left the earth too soon, a young life taken from us. The last thing that he would want is for us to blame God for this tragedy. It seemed that the only thing he wanted out of life was to bring joy and light to others, may his memory forever bring glory to God, Let us pray”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I never been to a funeral before, and I knew someday that would change, but I didn’t know that that day would be this day. I knew that someday I’d have to pay my first last respects to someone. I just didn’t know that that someone, would be me. I am amongst the crowd but no one can see or hear me. I don’t know what’s going on exactly, but one thing is for sure, I am dead. I would say that I am a ghost, but I don’t believe in ghost. I can feel the warmth of the spring sun on my skin as the afternoon breeze makes its way through the crowd and hits my face. My first thought is the irony of it being a nice warm spring day on the day of my funeral, god I love irony, or loved irony I guess. My second thought is confusion on how I can feel the wind and the sun if I’m a ghost. I guess I can figure that out later. For right now I’ll walk around and observe.
My coffin is being lowered into the ground has Pastor Croft is finishing the prayer that will end the funeral service. I look up at my tombstone “Phillip S. Ball 3-31-1989 – 5-5-2009 Beloved Son and True friend” C’mon guys ‘beloved son and true friend’ what happened to “hey what are you looking at” I let out a long sigh, I never really was all that funny. It was just the way I dealt with things. I learned a lesson a while back just because you make someone smile doesn’t mean you make them better. I guess I should have spent less time on my dry wit, and more time actually being there for my friends and loved ones.
My brothers and father stand emotionless, while on the other side the grave the sobs of a mother who has lost a son serve as an ambiance for the funeral while my half brother places his hand on her shoulder. My family. The people who I lived with for eighteen years as I think about the relationships I can’t help but shake my head. So many things have been left unsaid. Dad you will never know what served as a wall for those last few years, I know what you thinks it was, but you are wrong. Mom, I know you loved me, and I know I did you proud for the most part. I look over to my father, then back to my mother on the opposite side of the crowd, Mom, Dad, I just wanted to know what love looked liked. That is all I wanted from you two, one thing, that was it. Dathen, Caleb, and Jacob, my brothers. Dathen, we never really talked, never really had any, big brother little brother moments and though I was fine with out it, in the back of my mind it bothered me. Caleb, Jacob, I always wondered if we were going to be better then Dad and our uncles when it came to our relationships in later years. Guess it’s up to you two now.
In another group stand a mixture of men that I use to look up to, and even emulate. Some of them are very close, while others are meeting for the first time this. In this mix range from youth pastors to teachers. All so different, all so the same, each wearing the same expression. Their eyes serve as vistas to floodgates. Many have come to pay there last respects to me, family, friends, class mates, Yet out of everyone these are the men that I wish to know what they’re thinking right now also unlike everyone else, I don’t have the slightest clue what these men are feeling as they look upon my grave.
After what seem like a lifetime passes mostly everyone has gone. Amongst those who still stand at the grave this bright spring, morning is the one that knew me the best. Without a doubt she was my closet friend, was, I still need to get use to that. Silent tears make their way down her face. My parents never had a daughter, but I had a sister. The hours we would spend talking, how we were there for each other, the way we would make each other smile, they way it worked, it was what a relationship between best friends should really look like. Deep down, I know she’ll be ok.
I turn once more and come face to face with the only thing that can cause me tremendous pain even in death. My first love and very close friend, Stephanie in a paralytic mourning. My jaw is aching to form words to ease her pain. I spent so much time and effort, and gave so much of myself to comfort her in life, so many times when I caught her tears. So many times where I stood has a pillar when all else was crashing down on her. As cliché as it all is, I need to be that for her, not just for her, but for me as well. She was the reason I picked up a pen for the first time. She was the reason for my first line. I can still remember writing that note all those years ago, and though we had our few moments of passion, it was the friendship that stood like a solid fortress as waves of teenage emotions and hormones crashed against it that truly served as the highpoint of our relationship. And I almost hate myself for thinking most beautiful she looks even though she’s completely devastated. I die again and again with each tear that is shed. As I stand helpless to help her, it’s now I figure out what’s going on, and where I am. It’s so obvious now, I am in my own personal hell.
I stand motionless as Steph continues to cry, her long red hair covering hear beautiful face and dreadful tears, each second is an eternity. From the corner of my eye, I see Kathy. She walks over to Steph. Kathy knows that if I were alive I wouldn’t stand for Steph to be so broken. She tells her that as she throws hers arms around her. She tells her that there were very few things in my life that I cared about more than her happiness and that though there were other girls in my life I would always say that they didn’t even compare to her. Kathy always seemed to make sure that my responsibilities in life where taken care of. It’s nice to see that some things will never die. The two most important girls, no, two most important women of my life, perhaps even the two most important people in my life standing together. I smirk as I realize they will be ok. My life was more like a comic then I realized, the support cast is filled with uncannily strong women with out who I would have been gone a long time ago.
I hear sobs behind me, someone is at my grave and I turn around to see who it is. When I look back I don’t know what to think. The girl that I gave my later teenage years to. The girl I let hurt me over and over. The girl that I spent more nights then I care to remember crying over, is crying over me. For the first time in years she it is her turn to feel the pain of losing me. I want to be cold, hard and callused. Yet, the truth remains, I feel sorry for her. Her tears are falling like a calm rain. My friends would wonder why I care so much about her. “so what shes hurt” they would think “she hurt you how many times” They always wondered that. They always wonder why I went back time after time just to get hurt again. They never got it. Amongst her sobs I can hear her say that she misses the comfort of my arms around her. She misses the way I wouldn’t stop playing with her hair when we would be laying next to each other. How desperate she is to feel my touch. “I should have been your wife” she says has the tears begin to run down more swiftly, reflecting on everything I promised to give her, If she just gave her love to me . The reason that I always went back, my friends it was some kind of mind boggling phenomena but it was always so simple. I loved Her.
The hours progress and I am now standing alone face to face with my tombstone. I think of all who attended to pay their last respects, and say there last good-byes. I think how I touched there lives and they mine. And though I was needed and wanted by these people when push comes to shove I am dissatisfied. Who was I? and did I really matter? I wonder how I could think that while standing in the same place that loved ones cried. I did ok, but I could of done more, I could have done better. My life wasn’t a waste, but it lacked something. Even as I look at my tombstone I have no idea what it was. I no longer have to try to figure it out. May I rest in peace
- spring 09
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I never been to a funeral before, and I knew someday that would change, but I didn’t know that that day would be this day. I knew that someday I’d have to pay my first last respects to someone. I just didn’t know that that someone, would be me. I am amongst the crowd but no one can see or hear me. I don’t know what’s going on exactly, but one thing is for sure, I am dead. I would say that I am a ghost, but I don’t believe in ghost. I can feel the warmth of the spring sun on my skin as the afternoon breeze makes its way through the crowd and hits my face. My first thought is the irony of it being a nice warm spring day on the day of my funeral, god I love irony, or loved irony I guess. My second thought is confusion on how I can feel the wind and the sun if I’m a ghost. I guess I can figure that out later. For right now I’ll walk around and observe.
My coffin is being lowered into the ground has Pastor Croft is finishing the prayer that will end the funeral service. I look up at my tombstone “Phillip S. Ball 3-31-1989 – 5-5-2009 Beloved Son and True friend” C’mon guys ‘beloved son and true friend’ what happened to “hey what are you looking at” I let out a long sigh, I never really was all that funny. It was just the way I dealt with things. I learned a lesson a while back just because you make someone smile doesn’t mean you make them better. I guess I should have spent less time on my dry wit, and more time actually being there for my friends and loved ones.
My brothers and father stand emotionless, while on the other side the grave the sobs of a mother who has lost a son serve as an ambiance for the funeral while my half brother places his hand on her shoulder. My family. The people who I lived with for eighteen years as I think about the relationships I can’t help but shake my head. So many things have been left unsaid. Dad you will never know what served as a wall for those last few years, I know what you thinks it was, but you are wrong. Mom, I know you loved me, and I know I did you proud for the most part. I look over to my father, then back to my mother on the opposite side of the crowd, Mom, Dad, I just wanted to know what love looked liked. That is all I wanted from you two, one thing, that was it. Dathen, Caleb, and Jacob, my brothers. Dathen, we never really talked, never really had any, big brother little brother moments and though I was fine with out it, in the back of my mind it bothered me. Caleb, Jacob, I always wondered if we were going to be better then Dad and our uncles when it came to our relationships in later years. Guess it’s up to you two now.
In another group stand a mixture of men that I use to look up to, and even emulate. Some of them are very close, while others are meeting for the first time this. In this mix range from youth pastors to teachers. All so different, all so the same, each wearing the same expression. Their eyes serve as vistas to floodgates. Many have come to pay there last respects to me, family, friends, class mates, Yet out of everyone these are the men that I wish to know what they’re thinking right now also unlike everyone else, I don’t have the slightest clue what these men are feeling as they look upon my grave.
After what seem like a lifetime passes mostly everyone has gone. Amongst those who still stand at the grave this bright spring, morning is the one that knew me the best. Without a doubt she was my closet friend, was, I still need to get use to that. Silent tears make their way down her face. My parents never had a daughter, but I had a sister. The hours we would spend talking, how we were there for each other, the way we would make each other smile, they way it worked, it was what a relationship between best friends should really look like. Deep down, I know she’ll be ok.
I turn once more and come face to face with the only thing that can cause me tremendous pain even in death. My first love and very close friend, Stephanie in a paralytic mourning. My jaw is aching to form words to ease her pain. I spent so much time and effort, and gave so much of myself to comfort her in life, so many times when I caught her tears. So many times where I stood has a pillar when all else was crashing down on her. As cliché as it all is, I need to be that for her, not just for her, but for me as well. She was the reason I picked up a pen for the first time. She was the reason for my first line. I can still remember writing that note all those years ago, and though we had our few moments of passion, it was the friendship that stood like a solid fortress as waves of teenage emotions and hormones crashed against it that truly served as the highpoint of our relationship. And I almost hate myself for thinking most beautiful she looks even though she’s completely devastated. I die again and again with each tear that is shed. As I stand helpless to help her, it’s now I figure out what’s going on, and where I am. It’s so obvious now, I am in my own personal hell.
I stand motionless as Steph continues to cry, her long red hair covering hear beautiful face and dreadful tears, each second is an eternity. From the corner of my eye, I see Kathy. She walks over to Steph. Kathy knows that if I were alive I wouldn’t stand for Steph to be so broken. She tells her that as she throws hers arms around her. She tells her that there were very few things in my life that I cared about more than her happiness and that though there were other girls in my life I would always say that they didn’t even compare to her. Kathy always seemed to make sure that my responsibilities in life where taken care of. It’s nice to see that some things will never die. The two most important girls, no, two most important women of my life, perhaps even the two most important people in my life standing together. I smirk as I realize they will be ok. My life was more like a comic then I realized, the support cast is filled with uncannily strong women with out who I would have been gone a long time ago.
I hear sobs behind me, someone is at my grave and I turn around to see who it is. When I look back I don’t know what to think. The girl that I gave my later teenage years to. The girl I let hurt me over and over. The girl that I spent more nights then I care to remember crying over, is crying over me. For the first time in years she it is her turn to feel the pain of losing me. I want to be cold, hard and callused. Yet, the truth remains, I feel sorry for her. Her tears are falling like a calm rain. My friends would wonder why I care so much about her. “so what shes hurt” they would think “she hurt you how many times” They always wondered that. They always wonder why I went back time after time just to get hurt again. They never got it. Amongst her sobs I can hear her say that she misses the comfort of my arms around her. She misses the way I wouldn’t stop playing with her hair when we would be laying next to each other. How desperate she is to feel my touch. “I should have been your wife” she says has the tears begin to run down more swiftly, reflecting on everything I promised to give her, If she just gave her love to me . The reason that I always went back, my friends it was some kind of mind boggling phenomena but it was always so simple. I loved Her.
The hours progress and I am now standing alone face to face with my tombstone. I think of all who attended to pay their last respects, and say there last good-byes. I think how I touched there lives and they mine. And though I was needed and wanted by these people when push comes to shove I am dissatisfied. Who was I? and did I really matter? I wonder how I could think that while standing in the same place that loved ones cried. I did ok, but I could of done more, I could have done better. My life wasn’t a waste, but it lacked something. Even as I look at my tombstone I have no idea what it was. I no longer have to try to figure it out. May I rest in peace
- spring 09
As For Tonight
If words could make you fall in love,
would mine have that power?
Could they draw you to me?
Make you leave what you have?
Even if they could, would I let them?
After all love is not selfish.
But what if I was?
Who says you wouldn’t be as happy with me?
What if we could be greater?
Yet, who am I to cut in
It's your dance
and even I can see it's magical
Maybe, someday, our chance will come.
But not now.
So, as for tonight
I'll keep my mind off you.
I'll ignore your glances in my direction
And as I see you happy in his arms
I'll smile
Summer 08
would mine have that power?
Could they draw you to me?
Make you leave what you have?
Even if they could, would I let them?
After all love is not selfish.
But what if I was?
Who says you wouldn’t be as happy with me?
What if we could be greater?
Yet, who am I to cut in
It's your dance
and even I can see it's magical
Maybe, someday, our chance will come.
But not now.
So, as for tonight
I'll keep my mind off you.
I'll ignore your glances in my direction
And as I see you happy in his arms
I'll smile
Summer 08
Desolate Triumph
He ran from his home
Into the cold, into the night into the rain
Abandoning his place by his fathers throne
His fathers palace was majestic
His fathers love abundant
For heir and servant alike
Leaving the warmth of a thousand candles
And the comfort of loves embrace
To feed on tears and sweet poisons.
It was fear that drove him to run
For the sounds of war drums
could be heard from his chamber
Closer and closer everyday
Feelings of iniquity consumed him
It was a time to fight, a time to stand
However he could barely crawl
The darkness was pure
No moon, and dead stars
The rain stung like arrows
Not like it mattered, the cold left him numb.
Collapsing from the exhaustion
Face first in the mud.
Hearing his fathers search party
he took refuge in the mire.
But he was discovered
Fright and shame gripped his soul
“get back. stay away” he cried
He left his lord in a time of war
Crime, treason, worthy of death
And he knew it
Lighting struck and thunder rolled
As the powerful king step off his mighty steed
“Come on my son” said the king
He then picked up his son
And wrapped his son in his cloak
And with tears frozen on both their cheeks
They returned to the fortress
And months latter they stood
And with his fathers hand on his shoulder
They stood clad in blood stained purple garments
On a triumphant battlefield
Fall 2006
Into the cold, into the night into the rain
Abandoning his place by his fathers throne
His fathers palace was majestic
His fathers love abundant
For heir and servant alike
Leaving the warmth of a thousand candles
And the comfort of loves embrace
To feed on tears and sweet poisons.
It was fear that drove him to run
For the sounds of war drums
could be heard from his chamber
Closer and closer everyday
Feelings of iniquity consumed him
It was a time to fight, a time to stand
However he could barely crawl
The darkness was pure
No moon, and dead stars
The rain stung like arrows
Not like it mattered, the cold left him numb.
Collapsing from the exhaustion
Face first in the mud.
Hearing his fathers search party
he took refuge in the mire.
But he was discovered
Fright and shame gripped his soul
“get back. stay away” he cried
He left his lord in a time of war
Crime, treason, worthy of death
And he knew it
Lighting struck and thunder rolled
As the powerful king step off his mighty steed
“Come on my son” said the king
He then picked up his son
And wrapped his son in his cloak
And with tears frozen on both their cheeks
They returned to the fortress
And months latter they stood
And with his fathers hand on his shoulder
They stood clad in blood stained purple garments
On a triumphant battlefield
Fall 2006
Forbidden
I don’t avoid there looks
I have no reason to
They never saw the pain.
Why should they be concerned about the cure
I don’t need their judgments
They will never know the cause of my salvation
The pain It grips me soul
With my face down, I run past the crowd
My breath grows short
My eyes stain red
I run to our hideaway
And you meet me there
You grab me by my hand
And you pull me in
As I look into your eyes
I realize, Its you
You are the one to show me Its ok to feel again
That its ok to hurt
You tell me everything will be alright
Yet, Even as comfort begins to set in
Paranoia rears its head
Will we be discovered
What will they say about us
What about the act its self
Will the mire claim our souls
You bring me back to the moment
Your voice is so gentle
Your touch so soothing
It heals all my wounds
This is paradise
Our own personal utopia
My soul screams that This is wrong
But as I look it your eyes
I Find peace and healing
Tears begin to flow
Your lips move in closer
You’re about to make this so much more difficult
I should get out while I can
Your offer Lingers in the air
It intoxicates me
Its what I need
Its my cure
No one has to know
They wouldn’t understand
They wouldn’t see the beauty
They would only see the projected wretchedness
Who cares about them
Or what a sinister society dictates as Love
This love is ours and ours alone
Is it really wrong
Can this feeling be wrong
Is this really so vile
After all
If we are the only once that exist
Who’s left to judge
I have no reason to
They never saw the pain.
Why should they be concerned about the cure
I don’t need their judgments
They will never know the cause of my salvation
The pain It grips me soul
With my face down, I run past the crowd
My breath grows short
My eyes stain red
I run to our hideaway
And you meet me there
You grab me by my hand
And you pull me in
As I look into your eyes
I realize, Its you
You are the one to show me Its ok to feel again
That its ok to hurt
You tell me everything will be alright
Yet, Even as comfort begins to set in
Paranoia rears its head
Will we be discovered
What will they say about us
What about the act its self
Will the mire claim our souls
You bring me back to the moment
Your voice is so gentle
Your touch so soothing
It heals all my wounds
This is paradise
Our own personal utopia
My soul screams that This is wrong
But as I look it your eyes
I Find peace and healing
Tears begin to flow
Your lips move in closer
You’re about to make this so much more difficult
I should get out while I can
Your offer Lingers in the air
It intoxicates me
Its what I need
Its my cure
No one has to know
They wouldn’t understand
They wouldn’t see the beauty
They would only see the projected wretchedness
Who cares about them
Or what a sinister society dictates as Love
This love is ours and ours alone
Is it really wrong
Can this feeling be wrong
Is this really so vile
After all
If we are the only once that exist
Who’s left to judge
Her Lesson
Her lesson
Her face is the source of all inspiration.
Her laugh is the sweetest song.
Her smile calms the storm,
Perfect peace lies in her touch.
Her face is bold,
Yet, her heart is shattered.
She gives me the pieces
And they take shape in my hand.
Fulfillment is met in each other’s arms.
And as we gaze at the night sky
The angels stare back in envy
Their wonder put to shame by this love.
I long for this desire to be quenched
Yet, True love cannot be caught
It cannot be chased
I must learn to let it come to me
Spring 09
Her face is the source of all inspiration.
Her laugh is the sweetest song.
Her smile calms the storm,
Perfect peace lies in her touch.
Her face is bold,
Yet, her heart is shattered.
She gives me the pieces
And they take shape in my hand.
Fulfillment is met in each other’s arms.
And as we gaze at the night sky
The angels stare back in envy
Their wonder put to shame by this love.
I long for this desire to be quenched
Yet, True love cannot be caught
It cannot be chased
I must learn to let it come to me
Spring 09
Holding you again
Holding you again
Tears of joy stream from my eyes
Holding you again
I am ashamed of myself for losing faith
I knew you would return
You always do
This love is immortal
Holding you again
My universe is complete once more
And as you’re in my arms
The feeling returns
The sensation of peace and over whelming joy
It floods my heart
And runs through my veins
My lips ace for yours
You move in closer to satisfy them
I wake up
I’m greeted by a beautiful smile
And a gentle kiss
My heart sinks
It’s not yours
I will never be yours again
like a masterpiece
A false smile paints its way across my face
And I say the words that she wants to hear
And that I long to be true
“I love you”
I run my fingers through her hair
And look deep into her eyes
And though she becomes lost in mine
I don’t find what I’m searching for
I don’t find you
She tells me I’m everything she dreamed of
and that I’m sweetest thing
as she sinks into my arms
seeking sanctuary in what you left in shambles
and as she finds refuge in the wreckage
I realize
she is not you
she is so much better
so why are you still the one I desire
Winter 08
Tears of joy stream from my eyes
Holding you again
I am ashamed of myself for losing faith
I knew you would return
You always do
This love is immortal
Holding you again
My universe is complete once more
And as you’re in my arms
The feeling returns
The sensation of peace and over whelming joy
It floods my heart
And runs through my veins
My lips ace for yours
You move in closer to satisfy them
I wake up
I’m greeted by a beautiful smile
And a gentle kiss
My heart sinks
It’s not yours
I will never be yours again
like a masterpiece
A false smile paints its way across my face
And I say the words that she wants to hear
And that I long to be true
“I love you”
I run my fingers through her hair
And look deep into her eyes
And though she becomes lost in mine
I don’t find what I’m searching for
I don’t find you
She tells me I’m everything she dreamed of
and that I’m sweetest thing
as she sinks into my arms
seeking sanctuary in what you left in shambles
and as she finds refuge in the wreckage
I realize
she is not you
she is so much better
so why are you still the one I desire
Winter 08
Is It you?
Is it you?
Will you be the one to pick up the pieces?
Please tell me
I'm trapped in mire,
Drowning in tears,
Coughing blood.
I'm shattered and broken
The poison was fetal.
It left me paralyzed.
It left me numb.
Left me for dead.
Is it you?
The one that I have been waiting for.
Please tell me.
Will your smile be the one to replace hers
Will your touch be enough.
Enough to wipe her from my thoughts
Enough to wipe her from my dreams.
Will you take the pain away
Will you be my Angel?
The anticipation drives me mad.
Will I taste your lips?
Will they be the key.
Will I no longer be torn by the lost of her.
Is it you,
Or this just another mirage.
Please tell me.
Is this all a false hope.
Are you just another meaningless fling,
That will only highlight her worth.
Others have tried to replace her.
But they failed.
Their pure love and just intentions couldn't save me,
And only proved to cripple me.
And they were forced to watch,
As I continued to die.
Is it you?
The one that will give me hope?
Please tell me.
Please Be the one.
Show me that there are others.
Show me that it's possible to move on.
You don't have to be perfect,
Just enough.
You don't have to be my happily ever after.
Just show me there's life after her,
Give me hope.
Tell me you're the one.
winter 08
Will you be the one to pick up the pieces?
Please tell me
I'm trapped in mire,
Drowning in tears,
Coughing blood.
I'm shattered and broken
The poison was fetal.
It left me paralyzed.
It left me numb.
Left me for dead.
Is it you?
The one that I have been waiting for.
Please tell me.
Will your smile be the one to replace hers
Will your touch be enough.
Enough to wipe her from my thoughts
Enough to wipe her from my dreams.
Will you take the pain away
Will you be my Angel?
The anticipation drives me mad.
Will I taste your lips?
Will they be the key.
Will I no longer be torn by the lost of her.
Is it you,
Or this just another mirage.
Please tell me.
Is this all a false hope.
Are you just another meaningless fling,
That will only highlight her worth.
Others have tried to replace her.
But they failed.
Their pure love and just intentions couldn't save me,
And only proved to cripple me.
And they were forced to watch,
As I continued to die.
Is it you?
The one that will give me hope?
Please tell me.
Please Be the one.
Show me that there are others.
Show me that it's possible to move on.
You don't have to be perfect,
Just enough.
You don't have to be my happily ever after.
Just show me there's life after her,
Give me hope.
Tell me you're the one.
winter 08
Listen to my Words
Listen to my words
You never listened to them
Even as I held you
And whispered them into your ears
They meant nothing to you
Why should they
They could never illustrate this love
They could never make it tangible
Ripping out my heart
Applying it to the page
The passion I would pour
Line after line
Like an artist
Painting a masterpiece in his own blood
Listen to my words
They could really a nation
Or bring hope to this broken generation.
But if they fail to keep you
If they fail to bring you back
There useless
And this talent
This “gift”
Is pointless
Unless I get it all across
Unless I can tell you
What your love brings me
The peace the hope and happiness
The Warmth,
I bask in it
like a valley in the sun’s rays
When I am starved of it
When I’m starved of your love
I’m Cold, alone
paralyzed
When you leave
Know you leave me dead
And as I feel the vultures eating away at my flesh
My last breath
would be spent to use my words
to orchestrate how just beautiful you are
Listen to my words,
Or ignore them for now.
But they will haunt you.
As you sleep in the arms of another,
They wake you.
As you lie in his bed
They will play in your head
Like a melody
Forgotten long ago
Fall 08
You never listened to them
Even as I held you
And whispered them into your ears
They meant nothing to you
Why should they
They could never illustrate this love
They could never make it tangible
Ripping out my heart
Applying it to the page
The passion I would pour
Line after line
Like an artist
Painting a masterpiece in his own blood
Listen to my words
They could really a nation
Or bring hope to this broken generation.
But if they fail to keep you
If they fail to bring you back
There useless
And this talent
This “gift”
Is pointless
Unless I get it all across
Unless I can tell you
What your love brings me
The peace the hope and happiness
The Warmth,
I bask in it
like a valley in the sun’s rays
When I am starved of it
When I’m starved of your love
I’m Cold, alone
paralyzed
When you leave
Know you leave me dead
And as I feel the vultures eating away at my flesh
My last breath
would be spent to use my words
to orchestrate how just beautiful you are
Listen to my words,
Or ignore them for now.
But they will haunt you.
As you sleep in the arms of another,
They wake you.
As you lie in his bed
They will play in your head
Like a melody
Forgotten long ago
Fall 08
Longing for poison
It sits in my hand once more.
My sweet poison,
My forbidden fruit,
If I take a bite I will surely die.
So cast me from paradise.
As I lust to take that bite,
The sensation of imagining the taste,
The taste I said I would never go back to,
But now beg for,
It makes my mouth water and my lips drip.
My pains fade
My mind at peace
And for now
All is bliss
An emotional utopia.
So if you damn me
Just know this
I shall forever rest in peace
With sweet poison on my lips
Summer 08
My sweet poison,
My forbidden fruit,
If I take a bite I will surely die.
So cast me from paradise.
As I lust to take that bite,
The sensation of imagining the taste,
The taste I said I would never go back to,
But now beg for,
It makes my mouth water and my lips drip.
My pains fade
My mind at peace
And for now
All is bliss
An emotional utopia.
So if you damn me
Just know this
I shall forever rest in peace
With sweet poison on my lips
Summer 08
Moonlight Mistress
Moonlight Mistress
I'm alone in our group of friends
So separate so secluded
So sick of everyone and everything
And I all want is to be alone
Then I look over at you
the time we spend together is so magical
your smile so entrapping
your laugh so addicting
Your skin so smooth….so soothing
seeing your face Light up
Dose wonders in bighting up my day
You then look over at me catching my gaze
I then let out a sigh
i wish it could be me …
The one that gets to hold you...forever
Fantasy leads me away
I dream of dancing with you
in the moon light
the stars dancing along
and the lunar glow put to sham only by your face
beauty in its purest form.
your eyes pulled in and entrapped by mine
as I gaze into your soul
Past hurts come out of hiding
Only to be Put to rest by the warmth
and security you have in my arms
Words…whispered…. from my lips into your ears
Flooding into your heart
They sweep you away
And all is perfect
Until winter rages
and a burst of overwhelming cold air
Cuts through us
I go to pull you in closer
but your gone
I'm left alone
the cold intensifies and numbness sets in
Until the only thing i can feel
is the warmth of colds embrace
Reality grips around my neck
Your phone rings
I know that smile
He's calling you
The love and the warmth that's radiating off of you
It fills the room
And yet, the only thing I can feel is
is the warmth of colds embrace
Winter 07
I'm alone in our group of friends
So separate so secluded
So sick of everyone and everything
And I all want is to be alone
Then I look over at you
the time we spend together is so magical
your smile so entrapping
your laugh so addicting
Your skin so smooth….so soothing
seeing your face Light up
Dose wonders in bighting up my day
You then look over at me catching my gaze
I then let out a sigh
i wish it could be me …
The one that gets to hold you...forever
Fantasy leads me away
I dream of dancing with you
in the moon light
the stars dancing along
and the lunar glow put to sham only by your face
beauty in its purest form.
your eyes pulled in and entrapped by mine
as I gaze into your soul
Past hurts come out of hiding
Only to be Put to rest by the warmth
and security you have in my arms
Words…whispered…. from my lips into your ears
Flooding into your heart
They sweep you away
And all is perfect
Until winter rages
and a burst of overwhelming cold air
Cuts through us
I go to pull you in closer
but your gone
I'm left alone
the cold intensifies and numbness sets in
Until the only thing i can feel
is the warmth of colds embrace
Reality grips around my neck
Your phone rings
I know that smile
He's calling you
The love and the warmth that's radiating off of you
It fills the room
And yet, the only thing I can feel is
is the warmth of colds embrace
Winter 07
The Beast Within
The Beast Within
My self loathing grips my neck.
Its claws keeping my self-righteousness in check.
Or is it just Chocking out the virtues you claim to see.
My integrity, bleeding out from me.
I hold on to hope, as my lungs cry for air.
Humanity is dieing and I'm the only one that cares.
But am i defending the the Souls that are damned
or are they just cards in my hand.
A hidden agenda for every good deed,
but its as if you only see the good in me.
This is the battle I have chosen,
but how can I save the broken,
I cant even slay this beast within,
And Its dragging me to hell with him
Fall 06
My self loathing grips my neck.
Its claws keeping my self-righteousness in check.
Or is it just Chocking out the virtues you claim to see.
My integrity, bleeding out from me.
I hold on to hope, as my lungs cry for air.
Humanity is dieing and I'm the only one that cares.
But am i defending the the Souls that are damned
or are they just cards in my hand.
A hidden agenda for every good deed,
but its as if you only see the good in me.
This is the battle I have chosen,
but how can I save the broken,
I cant even slay this beast within,
And Its dragging me to hell with him
Fall 06
The Fool
The Fool
This is a story about a fool,
Who stood by the king and helped him rule.
The fool was wise, the fool was sharp,
The king owed his mind, the princess his heart.
A fool and a princess now this was forbidden.
But not the reason why the fool kept his feelings hidden.
So close to the king, the fool was not afraid of any laws.
But if he got close to the princess would she see his flaws
The fool could only see the princess and her perfection
The fool could only see the flaws in the man in his reflection
“With all my flaws” the fool thought, “Surely I would be rejected”
“I cannot confess my Love, not till all has been perfected”
He hid in his camber, writing each blemish on a list
Only to finish and exclaim “By God, what if there’s something I missed.”
So, he traveled all over the Kingdom, to every city, to every town.
Asking strangers and friends about his flaws, then jotting them down.
Now the fools quest took well over a year
And when he returned he had to face his greatest fear.
For while he was gone the princess become betrothed to a knight
In his loss the Fool gathered all his might
“My fair Princess” he pleaded, “Tell me where my greatest flaw lies”
“My dear fool” she smiled “Why, you where always perfect in my eyes”
Spring 09
This is a story about a fool,
Who stood by the king and helped him rule.
The fool was wise, the fool was sharp,
The king owed his mind, the princess his heart.
A fool and a princess now this was forbidden.
But not the reason why the fool kept his feelings hidden.
So close to the king, the fool was not afraid of any laws.
But if he got close to the princess would she see his flaws
The fool could only see the princess and her perfection
The fool could only see the flaws in the man in his reflection
“With all my flaws” the fool thought, “Surely I would be rejected”
“I cannot confess my Love, not till all has been perfected”
He hid in his camber, writing each blemish on a list
Only to finish and exclaim “By God, what if there’s something I missed.”
So, he traveled all over the Kingdom, to every city, to every town.
Asking strangers and friends about his flaws, then jotting them down.
Now the fools quest took well over a year
And when he returned he had to face his greatest fear.
For while he was gone the princess become betrothed to a knight
In his loss the Fool gathered all his might
“My fair Princess” he pleaded, “Tell me where my greatest flaw lies”
“My dear fool” she smiled “Why, you where always perfect in my eyes”
Spring 09
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