No Time to Stand and Stare

I have come to realisation about time. As of late, I have been working ridiculous hours, training at early hours, trying to fit as many things into my week as is unhumanly possible. I have been learning to get by on at max 3-4 hours sleep. I probably already knew the dangers of this, but threw them into the gutter along with all other common sense. I did indeed feel the strain all this work and no play was having on my health.

I was listening to a sermon by Pastor Mark Driscoll, it was part of a series on knee high mia, (Nehamiah) this particular sermon was talking about how it is important to make use of the gift of sabbath. Now we are not talking about `the official sabbath` Saturday for the Jews and Sunday for us God fearing gentiles.(for that is a whole other sermon) No what we are talking about is the gift of quality time with God, without any distractions or without badly attempting to multi task. This made me realise how important it is to have a sabbath, even if it is on a tuesday. I had been trying to fit God into the few short minutes I had free during the week, instead of setting aside a day just for him.

So I have decided I am going to try and set aside a day for the Lord, and hopefully feel the goodness it will have on my physical, spiritual and emotional health. I hope also I will gain a certain closeness to God that I have kind of sidelined.

cf Ecclesiasties 3, there is a time for everything.

So stay tuned and I will update on how well or badly this went...

the page

this one is a weird one, written waiting for the train, then on the train.

the cold blank page
stares at me withered with age
flames rolling, twisting writhing
fierce in my head
the need to warm the page
with thoughts that will bring life
and warmth to this cold page

flames sparked by let downs
false hope and beautiful catastrophe
to be's or not to be's,
to do's or not to do's
the ashes of burnt sacrificial life
thoughts reaching the temple
focus is not any clearer
than a steamy winter window.

sun glistening, dancing, spinning, rippling,
to be in that nirvana state
lifeless but full of flight
what joy that would be

sweet distraction,
mindless numbing
fast paced trees and shrubs
drops travelling the unkown way
distracted by nothing but its path

to be the raindrop or glistening dancing dust
to be at ease, what dreams would be
so awesome and bellisimo
but to try for,
only makes the metaphorical corridor
all the more longer
the end unreachable
unfathomable end,
against my cognitive ways.

lost...

a fiery peace

this one I wrote when i was feeling down, a wee while back.

going nowhere very fast
unsure which route i should take
feeling, thinking without a breath

the road with ease looks good
the height looks welcoming
toes touching the edge
slight wobble as breeze passes

trying hard, but something
someone stopping me
looking up take a breath
all faces look to him
innocence is calling

this face I recognise
he has called before
ignorance no longer bliss
heart is broken and tugged

there he hangs
"it is finished" he cries
he breathes his last

i step down
fall to my knees
who is this man
that he takes it for me

i curl up open my arms
and plead..
'take me back,
forgive me,fill my life'

immediately all is clear
a fire burns within again
life seems full again
i see a shadow, look up,
there he stands his hand outstretched

the dark clouds part
my mind breathes
i take his hand and smile
there is nothing else i need

he walks with me
we talk
Im reminded of what he did
he slows me down
I breathe relief
he sends me the right way

still unsure of where i head
i toddle on in peace
life makes sense

sovreignty and love glow from his face
i look back to see him
he has gone
in my heart i know he is there

Early Summer Night

I lay awake dressed for day
but to work the hours of night
the sound of heavy subdued breath
a dangerous but soothing sound to my ears

to refresh, I go out to the garden
greeted by sweet smells of summer day
the sweet summer breeze brings joy to my naze
the sound of sleeping seas from the grand oak above.

the last birds and mammals sleep,
as darknesses quilts the sky
back inside my coffee beckons hot
my mind ablaze with plans and ponders

bed springs moan under heavy sleep
rustling quilts and readjusting pillows
breathing now heavy and subdued,
8hours I remind myself, eyes get heavy.

8 hours til i can feel the cold pillows sweet embrace
til i can feel the sweet smelling condolance of a cotton hug,
8hours til my plans and ponders are filed away
til my eyes behind closed doors dance a happy REM.

I wish those 8 Hours would come quickly, before dried eyes and a loosened neck fall into the hands of sleeps temptuous grasp.

I The Incredulous Man

What was I thinking
Why does it matter
surely it was only a thought
aren't thoughts still dangerous
or so I was taught

These thoughts and feelings
that stir and swell
these twitches and nerves
the reason man fell
some disagree

this nebulous rage of
what did I do wrong
it blows up inside
like the swell of a storm
if only it didn't

sometimes these feelings
are confusingly incredulous
yet there they exist
I know it is wrong
but I am only a man

we try to hold back
as etiquette requires
but deep inside it is
mans own flamy desire
the hunt,the kill, the battle cry

mans emotions have been
boxed up and locked away
we are to be gentlemen
and nice folk for all to see
is that really the way man should be?

even still, it hurts me
and tightens my muscle
and nerve endings burning
for pain to hide, we must
take it and grin...

the nebulous feeling of
what we should be
is lost in the nature
of modern society...

the new improved metrosexual man....

really though.....really?

sleepless tiredness

I feel so tired
Can hardly keep open
Mind and eyes
My thoughts scattered
Dancing a raging inferno
Questions needing answered
Left to burn
Words unsaid,
Forgetting things learnt

Do you ever have one of those days
You can't be who you want to be,
Or need to be, you don't function
Instead pull the covers up high
And drift away far away
Sleep soundly
Dream profoundly
Cast all thought to the
Filing room of who cares

But still I feel so light and heavy
Unbalanced scales

Sense of moving slowed
Tongue tied up
Thoughts shatter and
Mix to a blended fire ball of
Not allowing sleep

Still I feel so speechless
So lost without shutting my eyes
And pulling up the covers
Not watching the wee small hours

Please can I sleep now?

complicated simplicity

Sitting on the train
My mind begins to wonder
I worry over simple and complicated

My future paths unpaved,
The directing light not
Pointedly lit.

Why I wonder can I no longer cry
Is it fear of my tears turing to rust
Is it fear that my heart and emotions
Now solidifying around me.
Is it that I no longer care

I shake my head in disbelief
Perhaps I tell myself
It is because I have not had a
Worthy cause for tears
Or I am saving them for a
A titanic occassion

My conscience an overbearing sack
Of useless pebbles tells me NO

I have carried this sack for so long
That I have forgotten what each
Pebble resembles
There are a few I feel
Time has not erroded, instead
They remain sharp and jab at my back
Reminders of personal stumbles

Why I wonder is it
I have traded passion for laziness
And sorrow or hunger for weariness
My conscienc says work,
I am unsure...

Surely as a carer, I continue,
I need passion and feeling
To help understand
Or is it that now I am just a
System of analysis for
Every unit I meet.

I guess I will never know,
Perhaps my passion and PA
Will one day return.... one day.

detached observations

Tired of the crowd
The cold hard granite
And thick sliver of artistic glass
Hold my weary weight

Gathering a touch
Of somesort of composition
Slowly silently I watch
A speedy symphony
Of disorder and greed,
My canvas.

"Big issue" I hear
An echo of desparation
With no return, a pound a punnet,
A bunch for two, few will give in
The land locked sirens wail

Dialogue and private chat,
Media and incredulosity,
Some concern and need to dos
Uncontrollable youth and desparation

These are the colours on the canvas

Fear of becoming dizzy
I take from the canvas to the skies
Above these concrete towers are dreams
I ponder the possibility of catching the air
And of riding the clouds

Sadly a mere impossibility
My dreams float up to be
With the clouds and air
It is my curse to live in the chaotic canvas
We call society.