Georgia Day

I dare not stray, but I would walk close beneath the tree limbs- stretched- magnificently above me a jasmine Entish canopy. Soft smells pulling up the flowers. quiet breaths pooling like eddies around my ears. Old stones rounded by the rivers. No sharp peaks. No fresh tears.

The Price of Reconciliation

A grievance nursed is a wound unhealed.
God, melt to slag our hearts of steel.
Strain and smelt and blow and hammer
fuse and grind away.
All that offends, all that won't bend
humble us or we dismay.
Let the pained and wounded soul
cool into a holy mold.
A sword of hope that You hold high
a testament to darkened eyes.
Shape us then to Your good cause
and make me fuel flame of God!

Unmoved

The wings of a monarch butterfly
vibrant, quiet, weak
silence every poet
outshine every King
Fire in the beetle, wisdom in the ant
have you ever stopped to marvel
at one leaf of a plant?

One leaf of a plant
don't bother with the whole
in a leaf and one leaf only
is more wisdom than the world.

From Eternity the Father
commanded it to grow
a brief and endless wonder
a delight He wants to show

So many leaves of glory
and our darkened eyes walk past
dull to all the wonder
unmoved by God at last.

The time beyond Victory

If all of time will end

and the hearth of Sun grow cold

the ice at last expand 

to fill the very whole

if the earth will be made new

and Heavens without time

then every prayer that's 

prayed will be memorialized 

an Eternity to watch 

in retrospect and awe, 

how every cry was heard

then stored in Heavens vault.

No moth or rust within 

golden, silver,pure

when all things are made new

the saints will pray no more. 

What need to pray in Heaven 

when Christ does ever Reign?

What need to grieve past midnight

when at last the morning's come?

A memorial of bottles 

filling Heavens store

an Eternity to ponder

what God did the age before. 

The Stand

A thin silver cloud races across a high midnight sky

the moon burns like a lantern across the fields

the tired earth shifting and rolling beneath his steady feet

Underneath, the settled lands are moving

in the distance the settlers are well armed

In a wigwam burns a fevered dream

eagles feather, tobacco and fire crackling

sweating, he dreams of rifles mounted on the thunderbird

the young man runs outside 

and keeps his feet steady planted on the shifting land.

dark skin and flowing raven hair

a chant at the moon and stars 

useless rage, indispensable pride. 

The rolling ground swells under him

the overthrow of nations, the end of Moonlight. 

The Strange Commission

John walked slowly along the side road,

past the frosted fields under the frosted sun.

Black upon his back, python boots, a gun.

Mud, bitter and crunching moved under his feet.

A steady walk, unhurried and direct.

Ever toward the horizon.

Wearing above all an easy smile.

Easy as if stolen, maybe from his father

or a teacher long abandoned, but now comfortably his own.

In time, he stops, allows his ears to get bitten by the wind.

Lady wind rushes past his ears, hard as ice, steady as a horse's hooves.

Birds play and call in the distance, and far to the right along

the fields the mottled cows graze unmolested.

Somewhere in the cold parts of his mind, a plan starts to

melt into shape. Forged of a solitary conviction,

the man continues his merry march past the passing roaring

train.

John grins.

Ahead in the near distance, he sees the next chapel at the side of the Mexican highway.

Approaching steadily, he steps in.

Slowly, upon entering, allowing his eyes to mend to the softened light, he lets his hands run along the back of the pew, feeling his hand pierced on the fourth row.

"Ha! A splinter." he mutters

"I deserve that." Walking further in and finding it empty, he stops and

lifting his head to the image of the Christ in the back of the stained glass window, he says

"Considering the state you were in, I suppose You don’t feel too sorry for me...don’t worry, I don’t either."

John's grey eyes stare a moment longer.

"I feel sorry for You though, I reckon you hear a whole lot of bullshit don’t You?"

"Sorry....habit." Quietly and unconsciously taking his hat in hand, John reflexively rubs his hand over his shaved head and slowly down his thick black beard. He sits down and sets his hat beside him.

Look, I gotta tell somebody and You’re the only feller I trust anyway. Turns out....I ummm may need some help. I got a situation, I’m sure you been apprised of it. Angels and all...

it’s about Rose. I’m about to tell her I love her. Now I know damn well she doesn’t know I exist. That I’ve never said a word to her. That I’m just the messenger to drop off the money her husband gave me before he died this morning. But all the same, I need to tell her I love her. I’m sure you’ve heard stranger things. Keep me alive long enough to do that, will You? I gotta do one right thing before I’m done. Figure loving that woman and taking her this money has to be it.

John sat back quietly as if listening.

Now I heard a preacher say that it ain’t really about what we do for You, but about what You did there." he said, gesturing towards the mural. "I get that, I suppose nothing I do can compete there, But didn’t old Abraham do something to prove he was sincere? I reckon this is that way. That's it, if I make it that far, I suppose I'll owe You one more than I already do."

John got up, gave a last look, put on his hat, and walked back out into the cold morning sun. He had been walking since before sunrise, as was his custom when he ran across the dying man. He stopped to pull him from the carriage, and the man requested John deliver the money and take care of his wife Rose. John saw an opportunity in the responsibility. Redemption. That's what brought his smile back. He started back down the path, boots digging in further into the warming mud. The plan was to go north through Laredo, then from Texas to Louisiana, find Monroe County, give Rose the money, tell her about finding her husband dying on the road, and tell her he loved her. Madness it may have been, but that was his path.

Further down the frosted path he wandered

walking past the open fields

steady onward toward the horizon.

Regret and memory stepping softly on his trail

hope going before like a sentry

What if love could be redemption?

What if he could forget the sight of the broken man

left for dead, crushed and broken by his carriage

gambling winnings strewn around the drunken wreck.

Had he known him? Does it matter?

Freedom called, and maybe ending the prison

of his solitary walk after all these steady years.

He smiled up at Heaven.

Slug Life

I’m a yellow slug,

        
                 slumbering

                       on a pile of  powdered salt.

      Wondering just how long

 it takes
       to dry.

Colombia

There is a field in Colombia 

Where the brightest flowers grow 

Hidden from America

There seeds are softly sown 

 

I breathed the fragrance of Colombia  

I found a stolen flower 

Dropped along the wayside 

Petals crushed by power 

 

I picked up the soft bloom 

I held her in my arms 

I poured water on her bruises 

and marveled at her charms 

 

Everyday I waited 

For a sign of life or hope 

And when her roots had sprouted 

I had to let her go

 

I lost her in the moonlight 

I searched the garden through 

I wandered in the starlight 

'till sunrise struck me through 

 

I knew I couldn't keep her

I knew her scent would fade 

Perhaps Colombia is sweeter 

In the field of hope and pray  

 

Progress

 

The saints are busy praising.

The sinners at their drinks.

I am busy searching for a 

Quiet place to think.

Lord help me in this midnight

Know what roads to tread 

Keep me in the daylight 

Keep me safe and fed.

Save me from the scoffers

And the ways of cruel man

Be that a man a woman 

Be that man a friend 

The shadows have fled till morning 

The wind my only friend 

Lord keep me from the limelight 

Keep me safe and fed 

Christmas Eve 2014

The sky is pulled down like a shade over the city.

 The sea stretches out her dark hair against the Coast.
Its lights a joyful tiara encircling her brow.
I won't make her jealous thinking
of  your ocean  green eyes right now.

Booker T and the Mg's mincing greens onions on the radio.
Palm trees stand guard around the coast like Afro'd sentinels of liberty.
Can't see the colors in the dark, I just know they're green from memory. 

Lilac smolders in the candles 

Cheap gas and cheaper smoke compete with the night fog 

I can't find my way beyond memories of the way your hair falls soft.

The mangroves are huddled together now,
 a brackish church for a congregation of ragged claws. 

Alfred Prufrock would worship here

A red beacon flashes in the distance 

Out of sync with booker t, in tune with the airplane landings.
 We can't all be artists you know, someone has to ensure the pilots aren't to drunk to land that thing. 

In the distance the cars careen across the causeway,
 may as well be well lighted camels wandering towards who knows what star.
I wonder if any mangers are open on Christmas Eve?

It's a quiet evening, I am at home in this Bethlehem, mayhem. No stars tonight. 

A single white sailboat sits on a sandbar somewhere in the middle of the bay. Unaware of my lady the sea below or the caravan of camel men wandering on their way.

The Thought

"Sometimes you have a thought thats very impatient. It says "hi" and you say "one sec" and when go right back to it, it's offended and gone."- Jeffrey Trask

The Thought 
I had a thought like a pretty girl
curl its fingers through my hair
but when i turned to look at her
all that lingered was perfumed air.

The Brilliance of Isolation

The wick burns fast,
most like a fuse,
when no wax can slow it's musing.
So does the soul,
when found alone,
No love or friend diffusing.
A brilliant light and no respite,
No damper on the yearning.
No watchman late,
to dull the rate
and slow the wick from burning.
Till at last the wick is spent,
and what's left is oil and smoke,
like a memory to those nearby,
 who's throats with sorrows choke.
for we never know,
how low one glows
till at last their light is gone.
or how needed is the wax of love,
for the brilliant to safely burn.

Conversion-sation

Me: "Lord I have a lot of issues I need to give to You"

God: "no you don't."

Me: "??" •thinking of all my issues•

God: "you need to give yourself to Me."

Evening walk

Life blazed by in a red car
And love laughed loud in the back-seat.
I got splashed as they drove by
wandering down a back-street. 

A friend in red once said to me
 "you're only young as you feel" 
then I'm as old as a broken urn,
 I'm as cold as ennui.

Across the burning street stands an
Old man, face red like pepper, 
Sausage head and lithe hands. 
He's a grotesque little man, all paunch 
punch, pint and Ireland. 

I name him "Good Times" and move on.

Broken are the street lights
Glassy is the way, alleys wind forever 
Severed is the day. 

Adding insult to verse.

I'd rather scale the ragged cliffs of Dover
than be accused of kissing you while sober.

Rapture

I wait in expectation
 for the manifestation of Joy
to pounce on me like a leopard
 whos spots don't change.

Evening Snack

I dream of a snowy path through a quiet Birch wood;
powdered cacao ditches on either side.
Puffed marshmallow clouds swimming overhead.
Tree tops frosted orange and gold with sunlight
The Horizon caked in Sunrise.

Haikus and short thoughts

Straight As The Crow Styles
 Red lips and white pearls
black dress with golden bracelets
your song is sweet ma'am.

Misty Eyed
Grace isn't always smooth
beauty isn't ever near
how can i see You?

"Birds, Birds, Birds!"
Two Warblers stand still.
Wings like milk chocolate feathers
nestled in my thoughts.

Dating
Outside are the dogs
Howling at the moon. I am
Inside, terrified.

Work-Place Harmony
Green Mentos fresh breath
flirts with red altiod strong mint
spearmint-peppermint

Christmas in July
Round and down the bend
rust and sparks shred the daylight
Summer tobaggon!

Friday blues
Fridays are like a
mini Christmas Eve. The same
disjointed sadness.

Pinkie Promise
Hand balled up firmly
pinkie outstretched, eyes locked in
what sincerity!

Parting Hug 
Cancer burned her thin-
shoulders and she hides them well.
I want to kiss them.

Cart before horse?
I wonder if pain
is the entrance fee to love
or it's expression?

Wyrm Rune

In the quiet of the night,

when day birds are asleep

Before the nightingale arise,

His eyes begun to gleam.

The knight whom, not a day before,

Had slain the dragon fierce,

took his tail, and head and mail

and sold them in the fairs,

Now in the still oppressive night

He stares into the mirror,

And catches a familiar light

glimmer, fade then glimmer!

What he sees behind his eyes

Is fire he had outed,

What he feels within his bones

Are scales and armor sprouted

Red and hot, and cold as hate

His breathing labored, heavy

He looks behind his weary eyes

And sees his grinning enemy.

Had victory fallen into Hell?

His noble deed bewitched?

What now should the valiant knight

Do to vanquish this?

The curse of dragons blood within

this knight of evil fate.

The boiling of the cauldron sin

Fortifies the scales.

What hope can enter in

When heroes are amiss?

What banner flies above the man who charges the Abyss?

From the castle Parapet his mind is quickly made.

He will not live to see the beast make his land a grave!

Could Christ forgive a knight who so many vows had broken?

Would a suicide like Samson yet enter into Heaven?

Hotter still his skin aflame, his sword aglow enchanted.

 The mirror shows the Wyrm Rune Curse is quickly passed all halting.

He takes Communion bread and wine and rushes to the window.

He pours wine on his flaming scales

And eats the rough loaf whole

His tears aflame, he casts himself

Out the broken window

Beyond all hope resigns himself

To ever wander limbo

The land below is scorched

And charred.

his fathers sword falls from its scabbard.

The clear crisp sky extends its arms

The Knight Descends at break of Dawn.

Suddenly the trump is sound!

The earth beneath is giving ground!

And all around the Voice is found

"Halt there Knight and turn around!"

A light begins to shine.

 A woman now appears.

Her hair is free as wine

His scales contract in fear.

"Quiet Knight and turn around!"

The Voice had once commanded

his fall to death ceased at the sound.

The Knight, to Christ ascended!

Now dear reader listen well!

The curse at last was stymied

Tho the Knight for sin had fell

The Grace of Christ enlightened

Heaven knows the frame of man

None is ever sinless

Yet we have a faithful Friend

And righteousness in Jesus.

By: Stephan Joseph

For Jim. 

Dali

He played among the ancient ruins 

Settled near the melting sea

Loved a woman that he'd chosen 

Drenched his brush in Eternity 

The octopus was thrown on canvas 

The emancipator digitized 

Dali moved time when he painted 

And framed the ether for our eyes 

Relationships- Game, Standards and the Inverse Square Law of attraction theory.

WARNING: Sarcasm ahead...

Well there's Game and there's Standards. 

Standards is what you want in a relationship be that financially, physically, spiritually etc. 
Game is what you offer. Most people focus on their standards, which they continually raise while ignoring their game.  Now ideally what we all want is someone with a lot more game than we have but with standards just low enough to let us in. 

Now of course there are the two extremes. If someone for example had all game and no standards they're either a liberal college girl or a hooker. If they have all standards and no game they're a prude, an ice queen, or a republican male on a college campus. But in between these two bookends of failure most people find themselves closer to the following:

If you date a lot of people but can never find the right one, because all the people you date turn out to be scumbags well then, your game is fine, you need to raise your standards. 

If you haven't dated anyone in forever and cant seem to get a desperate person to look at you then your game, you have none. Work on that. Dont blame other people, you're being selfish by requiring others to offer more to you than you are to them. Probably go for girls/guys out of your league as if you deserve it. The sooner you realize you dont deserve anyone but you have to earn the right to be loved and accepted, the better. God loves you just the way you are, everyone else deserves you to at least make an effort...you know, read a book, learn to be funny and interesting in conversation, go work out etc. 

Now there is something working against anyone with high standards low game that I call the inverse square law of attraction. 

Stephans inverse square law of attraction theory:

Take the amount you are attracted to someone, invert that emotion so that its now revulsion, square that amount and thats how much the person you like dislikes you. Reverse for people to whom you aren't attracted. Neutral remains neutral. 
So in short, if you like someone become as ambivalent towards them as quickly as humanly possibly (disliking them is the goal but that's difficult) and it will increase the odds they like you. If you dislike someone call them, txt them and do as many nice things for them as you can until you un-nerve them and make them hate you. 
People despise what they dont have to work for. So, be a jerk. You'll violate everything that's good and decent about yourself....but you wont be single!

But really it isn't about being a jerk, it's about being occupied, appearing busy and desirable. Pretend to be more rare and scarce than you are and suddenly people will like you. Now you're going to have to actually get and be busy, like take up school, or really get into the gym or super involved at the Church etc. The mere act of being committed and devoted to something is attractive. So go all in. You'll begin to notice the effects of the inverse square law diminish greatly.  The less time you have for a relationship the more ready you are for one. Seems counter intuitive, but it's the way the world works, you going to resent it or embrace it?

So get busy. 

Home

I like to sit outside near where the breeze hits the river

hidden beneath a cacophony of trees

but not so far from the busy streets

that I cant hear the rushing of wheels,

the screaming of sirens and

the crowded orchestra of humanity.

Free Will

Jesus prayed the Fathers cup would pass
but alas the answer came again and again
"drink the dregs, and pay the price of Wrath."
It pleased the Lord to bruise Him for
it brought many sons to Glory.

What about me then Lord?
Should I turn away a bitter cup?
Would I have water when wine
is fitting to the times? Would I be numb
when pain is the road that leads to peace? 
No! I would rather have the bitterness
of God than the sweetness of sin
for the "foolishness of God is wiser than men."

Alignment

I believe in love like I believe in Mars.
It' distant but real.
Mars, that god of war, is Cold, cyclical
and, the Scientists tell me, is always being pulled into
the Great Central Fire by Gravitation.
But from here on Earth that distant red point
is as terrifying in it's sterile beauty
as a woman without laughter.

-Stephan Joseph

Kinetic Action

Now the shockwaves burst our chests
and hearts are all a tremble with the sound of war.
Orange agents curl like heavy smoke around
the beds of sleeping children.
Graves silent as raging waterfalls behind glass walls
Is this moderation? Is this the promise of technology: a future
where rockets never miss their painted targets?
A sky roasting from within, hemorrhaging tracer bullets
into the spangled night?
Tell me now about the humanity of man to man
when  all around us bodies line the streets
and soul after soul is winnowed beneath
the caravans of kinetic action.

-Stephan Joseph

The Call of David

Slender youth but strong,

Red hair swaying with his shepherds

songs. Red curls dancing to his

newest Psalm.

Sandals worn but strong

Leading sheep from Jesses care

Jesses thoughts are far from him.

Winter and summer long,

staff in hand and lyre near,

teaching sheep how not to fear

Showing sheep dead lions beard;

the smell of myrrh was hanging near.

For, Samuel had come,

Calling all the brothers near

finding not the promise there:

David then was called

Leaving the bears carcass there,

Like a lamb he drew near

The Oil on him was poured,

Old Prophets eyes were shining clear

Saying “men are not as they appear”.

Pt.2- Temptation

The devil lays a softer ground under weary feet
A gently sloping path that leads nimbly to defeat

What arrows fly by day and night against our resolutions! 

We grow weary in the tired night looking for solutions.

Heaven sets the strength of men to work in vain affliction,

alone the hurting hands did die that purchased our redemption. 

Single died the carpenter on a callous cross

Abandoned by His God, stricken and abused

Familiar with the wrenching cry of “Father where are You?”

I know that if I die with Him, I shall be raised again

I cling to words un-perishing, promises undimmed.

When my flesh assails me, and the world pretend my friend

When the devil ails me: I see the Heaven Sent!

Alone in dry places, thirsty and enhungered

Pressed into the reddish sand, the yellow sun aflame

He refused the Kingdoms, He refused the bread

He refused the Glory, and chose me instead! 

Pt 1- The Rub

If I'm too tired to spin the wheel the wheel will go unspun;
friends come near and eat their fill,

yet hungers move them on.

 What Gethsemanes we all must face, 

we all must face alone: 
No hand to hold
No hug to have 
No heart to beat in sync, 
The cup we drink the Cross we bear, 

squeeze tears into ink:

and on the dry scrolls of our lives

trials sketch a tin-type

and we like monks pour over them,

 yearning for some insight.

Alas we find the Rosetta

Is Eternal Perspective

and so our lives

Remain exposed

 yet no clearer or uncertain.

To walk by faith is a lonely road,

narrow and constrained

He who tells you otherwise

 Is busy selling something...

Godzilla- a prayer

 "...God is love..."1 John 4:8
"for our God is a consuming fire."  Hebrews 12:29

Oh Love be my Godzilla!
Trample through the Tokyo of my heart,
tear down the buildings of my arrogance,
terrify the citizenry of my complacency.

Oh Love be my Godzilla!
Irradiate the helicopters and tanks
 of my rebellion against you.
Shake my empty streets of ingratitude,
humiliate the Science of my self reliance.

Oh Love be my Godzilla
And ruin all that's stopping You from Ruling me.

Weather Report

I'm sitting outside tonight,
It's perfectly calm,
No wind.

Just noise:
The rushing of cars
The croak and chirp
of a hundred  hidden creatures.

No wind.
Clouds spread thin;
Damp air, no stars.
a few streetlights
pierce the lazy dark.

No wind
the trees arent lonely
and neither am I.
their fragile leaves
hold no memory of winds
It's never been so still;
No wind!

I've never laid, beneath
A dark and hidden moon
and enjoyed
the trees this way before;
never been so
Mesmerized by their quiet,
daunting, nothing.

never heard within them
the trumpet sound of a thousand
calling voices,
No wind to silence them.