To: Raquel Rose

Love is patient. It's kind and caring, and forgetful of woes. Love is amazing, and the reason I'm here.

Her hair flows carefully, carelessly, fine.
I've forgotten my failures, faults and crimes.
I've tried expressing my heart in these rhymes.
Nothing comes close.

Her eyes glow with truth, faith, joy, and love.
Reminiscent of the Truth lying above.
Her lips are the only ones I'm dreaming of;
Her heart ties me to the air.

I'm lost to her smile--brightens my days--
And I've spent hours trying to count all the ways
That she cares for me. Over and over I pray
That I can be the same to her.

Been A While, Old Friend(s)

As an update to my nonexistent readers:

I started dating my best friend. Been an amazing month-and-a-half. Understatement. My girlfriend is the sweetest, most amazing girl you will ever meet (if you ever meet her).

I've had a lot going on. This is not necessarily a bad thing, as I tend to slip into slothfulness otherwise.

It's finals week. I should be studying, but that's the last thing I want to do right now.

All I want to do is write. I want to create something. Anything. I just feel the flame of inspiration beginning to flicker in my soul, sparking up from the coals of my creative spirit's dormant fire.

I have two awesome cousins to thank for this rekindling. Along with the final four lines of Milton's Paradise Lost. Their due dates for their novel-in-a-year expirament are impending, and their blogs are reflecting this fire-stoking process.

Man. Almost Christmas. I'm sitting right next to the Christmas tree at my parent's house as I write this. Christmas trees always make me thankful. Dunno why. But this gratitude takes me by force and points my face towards everything I have, saying, "How could you ever say your life is worthless? Never forget love." The best reminder that I wish I didn't need.

Inspired by Paradise Lost's memorable close:

They looked upon Eden,
Wept, then smiled.
Mourning the loss of their lives,
And remembering the hope of their Saviour.
WOW. I frickin' love life, man. Jeez.

Coyote Clean-Up

Synthetic waves radiate through
My soul--I'm high on sound.
The beat kicks in, and
I've hit nirvana.
These are the dreams that
Last forever.

Electronic pulses throb
In Ecstasy; reverberating
Into my intelligence.
"Can't shake the full moon"
She says. But,
She knows I'm gonna try.

808s and <3-breaks go like Geo with Sabzi,
Rhythm's my drug of choice, and I'm a straight addict.

I was going to post a poem today, after over a week of dormacy. I really was. It was going to be really cool, with the first line a quote from "Dog Song" by Mountain Man. So I started writing. I get a few lines in, and it's starting to really kick in my emotions. In a good way. So I keep writing, and it keeps getting more intense. Then I realize what I'm writing. I'm writing from the heart, which hasn't been happening. In fact, I wrote so much from the heart that I'm not gonna post it on my blog.

Anyways...that's my excuse. Not that anyone reads this...

Ars Poetica

Tonight was a good night. Sushi in the city is a prime idea for a Saturday night. I got a visit from a close friend. As Edward Sharpe says, "Home is wherever I'm with you." Tonight I went home.

I write
Not to say what
I'm thinking, but to calm
My soul. It is the comfort in
Thinking that someone else
Reads what I think
I know.

(Paradox) in Parenses

Another day in this crazy life we live. Recently, I have been writing just to get in the habit, and have not put out much of any quality. Hence this is a freeform sonnet about the paradox of living:

What happened to life?
Was it torn away? Or,
More tragic,
Wasted unknowingly to ruin?

The answer never known,
Until it is first lived.
More tragic,
Is having no answer to live.

The life not lived,
Until it is first answered.
More tragic,
Is living no life to answer.

The most tragic of all,
Forgetting the paradox we know as truth.

It's Not Where You Are; It's Who You're With

This is sick...simply disgusting. I have left my poor little blog to fend for itself for 3 AND A HALF MONTHS. And even after such a long hiatus, I feel as though I can write nothing. I've been getting more into music and having friends over the summer...if there's an excuse in this post, I guess that's it.

It's been a busy summer. I worked all alot, and hung out with friends when I wasn't. I went back and forth between loving and hating the idea of moving to SPU. It's too late now. I'm all in. If there's ever a time when my life is resting on faith it's now. For many reasons.

This will be my first post from Queen Anne in Seattle.

I miss my friends. Nothing against the people here, they are kind and interesting and cool. A lyric from a song called "St. Joseph's" by The Avett Brothers has a line that goes, "It's not where you are, it's who you're with". So as nice as my new friends are, they aren't home. Because to me, home is not in a building, but in people. If you've ever felt this, you know what I mean. If not, I pray you do.

It seems I've left my heart at my home.

Home is where the heart is,
And not in a house.
Right now I lack the both.

The worst feeling sometimes,
Is when you just want
To go home but can't and won't.

There's no comfort in people
Or places or things
If you find no home in them.

I love where I am,
But I'm missing my home,
And I just want to be there.

Home is where the heart is,
And not in a house.
Right now I lack the both.

It would seem I've left my heart at my home.

Frozen

Well I haven't written in a while...I've had an utter lack of inspiration for a few weeks...not sure why.
Well, I graduated high school last weekend...it feels much less profound than I had excpected...not sure why.
I was on stage in my gown, staring at all the faces...I'd waited for so long to graduate, but I sorta just felt sick...not sure why.

Years have left
Me...and here I am.
But where is here,
Exactly?
And where is it
I will go, when I
Depart from
Wherever it is
That I am?

Because, here I stand,
On life's doorstep,
Where a small sign reads:
Enter at your own risk,
And I find my self
With it's hand
On the knocker,
Frozen...

Idyll Winds

The rose petals sing,
In beautiful unison,
Their song to the
Sun's kind warmth.

The willows' bent backs
Show their old age,
But wisdom lies
In their branches.

A fence crosses paths
With a beaten-down trail,
Its paint peeling with
Memories of the 50s.

A cabin sits
On aging haunches,
Empty now, except for
The curious crow.

THe river whispers
The moonlight to sleep,
Its love-drenched echoes
Reaching only deaf ears.

Specter in the Library

This poem follows an Angelou-esque format, I suppose...Sort of an homage to the library (where I do much of my writing these days)...

All these pages;
So few answers,
But the stories
Keep me alive.

My mind is filled
With things that kill,
Forever in thoughts
Contrived.

All these pages;
So few answers,
But the stories
Keep me alive.

In this place is
Reclusive graces,
Aloneness to help me
Survive.

All these pages;
So few answers,
But the stories
Keep me alive.

Lost in escape
This fiction, it shapes
Me, ideas in my soul
Will thrive.

All these pages;
So few answers,
But the stories
Keep me alive.

My faults and my problems;
Unwilling to solve them,
Leave reality for the
Next time.

The Night is Darker

To be honest, I haven't completely figured this poem out either (and I wrote it)...Sorta darker imagery, sorry...

The face that I see is not
Of this world...
Hollow eyes that keep
Piercing my soul...

Buried in a shallow grave,
Knowingly I rise.
This hunger
Will disappear
'Fore the morning comes;
Life stolen from a world
That took my own.
I sleep
No longer, for
I'm tired of dreaming of
Blood on an angel's wings, a
Purity distorted by none other than
Myself.

I Lost my Part in the Choir of Dusk

Short poem (which is interesting, I rarely write poems under 10-20 lines) with a shout out to Kristian Matsson...hope you like (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EkwxxJE3zcY)

The sun rises, then falls,
Still I know in my soul,
That your Heart is the means
And your Passion the goal.

Forget myself and
Give in to new Birth;
Maybe then I'll be
The Tallest Man on Earth.

Marmalade Skies

Cheesy poem about summer...

Bright days and summer nights:
The future lies within my sight.
Sun-beaten and filter-free,
The way the world was meant to be.
Forget the cold and barren ground,
Faultless leaves no longer bound.
Cutoff jeans and sea-salt shoes,
No way left for me to lose.
Seeing the world through lollipop eyes,
Compliments the marmalade skies.

June is soon and May is here,
A bluer sky is coming near.

Stillness in Summertime & Dreamscape (Rictameter practice)

A friend suggested trying rictameter, so here are a few I came up with:

Stillness in Summertime

The trees
Speak only if
Spoken to, their voices
Fall victim to the breeze and the
Whispers of the crows as they fly back north.
Listen carefully, friend of mine,
For the music is in
Silent calls of
The trees.

Dreamscape

Falling
Through a blank space,
Til I am shook awake.
The rest of the day spent dreaming
Of the wind whipping my face as I drop
Through surreality's darkness.
This place is not freedom;
Freedom is in
Falling.

Poetry Practice

Hey, (to the 3 people that ever see this blog)

If you guys ever have anywriting challenges, forms you think I should attempt, or something you want a poem about, this is where you let me know :) I'm always looking to challenge myself as to not get stuck in a certain place in my writing.

Thanks,

Colin

Clouds of a Beautiful Crimson

I hope you guys enjoy this sonnet...I'm surprisingly pleased with it myself. Kinda pretty I hope. Anyways...

This I see through a window of fluid clarity,
Like a lake of the utmost calm:

The clouds hide memories of years ago,
When the grass grew greener and soft.
I am beginning to feel I am young no longer;
My youth stolen, or lost by the wayside.

November's blue beckons to me,
Though it's nearly the middle of May.
The breeze is that of a darker fall,
And the serenity betrays its maker.

If it were not for the Rocks that keep me afloat,
My screams would ring slowly, silent.
For alone I am nothing; together we rise,
On clouds of a beautiful crimson.

Goodbye to a Friend

Experamenting with a form I like, the Villanelle.

Where did you go, bitter Apathy?
Forgotten me for now?
Your comfort I'll soon forget.

It was not your fault, but mine,
Stumbling in a senseless mist.
Where did you go, bitter Apathy?

Hate and Fear, you filled my concious,
I miss your deadly verses;
Your comfort I'll soon forget.

Like lilies in the springtime,
My garden's filled with calm.
Where did you go, bitter Apathy?

The blade has lost it's fury;
These cuts will heal in time.
Your comfort I'll soon forget.

My skin is flushed with pigment,
My eyes with golden light.
Where did you go, bitter Apathy?
Your comfort I'll soon forget.

Selfish Soul

Yeah...It's kinda depressing...give me a break, it's been a while...

"You're nothing good to us," they said.
I'm beginning to fear they are right.
These chains are forged of emotion;
They keep me where I am.
But even if the Key was in reach,
Would I stretch out my hand?
For you could arrive in chariots of fire
And I would not but raise my head to look,
Because these faults have turned to truths
And bear down upon my soul.
These hours are not the healing kind;
They pass by slow and wistful.

One day this selfish soul will give birth to joy.

Bloodloss

Not much explanation, this sorta just happened.


If all you had was hope,
Would you let it go?
No, you would hold it
Even stronger than before!

I can see the stains
Where you wore your heart on your sleeve,
Before reality, or what we call reality,
Tore it away from you.
Do not lose your heart,
For it is stronger than reason.
The space on the page
Is as important as the words it graces.
Fear not when scholars bind you with logic,
See, their bonds will fade in an instant.

Would you really?

My faith is the most important aspect of my life. Jesus is my reason for life. However, I only recently realized what a hypocrite I was being. As Christians, we claim that we would do anything for Jesus. But would we really?
We sit in our nice, warm church buildings, go to our jobs where we make money that allows us to keep up the "dream" so often brought up in our culture. We talk about Jesus, a homeless man who gave up everything for us, and how much we love Him, and then we go buy a nice new jacket. Because Christians need to be warm, right? And, of course, you want to make a good impression on Sunday, right?

What would happen if we truly lived what we believe? What would happen if we gave up everything for Christ? You say then, "But you need such and such to live." We make excuses as to why we can't give up things. What if we simply trusted God for life? The Bible tells us God will provide. But, especially in America, we have gotten rid of the need for God to provide. We have money and doctors and no more reason for the kind of provision we read about in the Bible. If we really trust God, shouldn't we trust that He will provide for us if we really need it?

Anyway...just thinking, I don't claim to have the "answer", but I'm figuring out what God is calling me to do: Love and serve Him and others, no matter what the cost is.

We say that we would give up anything and everything for God.
I dare you to prove it.

In These Eyes

This poem if for those who doubt what they see in the mirror. This is for those who say they are less than beautiful. This is for those who try to convince the world, and themselves, that what God made in them is faulty and broken and ugly. It is not. You are pure, you are made by God, and you are beautiful.

You're Beautiful
But you swear you're not.
The bruises only you can see
Glare back from the deep of your soul.
But the eyes with which you see your self
Are telling you a lie.

You're Beautiful
Inside and out.
Your heavy heart is real and true
And loves more than you think.
Your passionfire is strong and pure
And meant for greater things.

You're Beautiful
And I see your hurt.
The pain that no one knows.
Your mouth tells me that you are fine
But your eyes tell me
There's more to the story.

You're Beautiful
I see it in your smile.
You're face shines brighter
Than the sun ever could, I swear.
You think that no one really cares,
But keep in mind I do.

You're Beautiful
In these eyes of mine.
Don't let anyone tell you less.
No one could sway me otherwise
No day could prove me wrong
No fault could stain the fact.

You're Beautiful.
Look in these eyes and tell me I'm lying.

Untitled

I seem to be going through a repetition phase, so forgive me if you do not like that style...

We are broken.
We are hurting.
We are battered and
We are bleeding,
Screaming at the sky for the God
Who is right beside us,
If we would just turn our heads
To see Him.
We are loving.
We are losing.
We are cutting and
We are bruising,
Pale in comparison
To the darkness that
Surrounds us, though we swear
The path is still clear.
We are fighting.
We are dying.
We are falling and
We are convinced that we are flying,
Until we hit the hard reality
And look up to see
The floor.
We are free and
We are guilty.
We are fire and
We are burning.
We are thieves and
We are children.
We are knives and
We are victims.
We are needles and
We are addicts.
We are poets and
We are pens.
We are body and
We are spirit...

We are human and
We are loved...

If we could just open our hearts to accept it.

Love it...

You Used To Smile

This poem is about pain and suicidal thoughts (it's not autobiographical). Don't do it, it's the last mistake you'll ever make.


I remember when you used to smile,
When life had just begun.
Now the days are darker through
The eyes that once belonged to you,
And after all that you've been through
It's hard to see the Son.

There's better ways to fix this pain;
That knife won't heal your soul.
Those bleeding cuts just make it worse,
You still are loved; the loss is hers.
One day your wounds will be reversed
And all your hurt consoled.

You still have life you've yet to live,
Don't die before your time...
I know you feel your heart has gone,
Its beat will come back before long,
The moon will give way to the dawn,
And love will fall in line.



I remember when you used to smile...



There's better ways to fix this pain...



You still have life you've yet to live...



Don't die before your time...

Highway Musings

The man got on the bus,
Not knowing where to go.
He thought of his life,
Where he had been and no.
If life was this road,
Where did it end?
He looked out the window,
And waited.

Wrote this on a scrap of paper while riding bus about a year ago...just refound it

Carpe Diem

I choose

I choose the Way
I choose to live
I choose to love
I choose to give

I choose my faults
I choose my fears
My mistakes
And I choose to hear

I choose the Word
I choose the One
The right way
when all's said and done

I choose my voice
I choose my song
I choose what's right
And fix what's wrong

I choose the sea
I choose the trees
The rising sun
And morning breeze

I choose to smile
I choose to cry
I choose to fight
And not to die

I choose to serve
I choose to be free
I choose others
Instead of me

I choose to think
I choose to know
I choose to learn
I choose to grow

I choose the moment
In which we exist
and not to dwell
on that which I've missed

I choose the Way
I choose to live
I choose to love
I choose to give

I choose

If the World is a Stage, Who Wrote the Script?

The man looked at the faces of the crowd that had gathered.
In some he saw triumph, others showed their sadness and pain.
He saw those who had helped him get to where he was.
He saw others who wished he was still with them.

This sort of fame was a bitter sweetness.
Today, he was the focus of the whole world;
Whether that was good or bad was irrelevant.
He had known from birth that he was destined to for this fame.
He knew that what he would do today would go down in history.
He knew what he would do today would change the world forever.

Yet, somehow, he still felt strangely unprepared.
As the time approached,
He felt a wave of emotions race through him,
Stronger than anyone had ever felt.

He felt sadness for the family he was leaving.
He felt fear for what was to come.
He felt pity for those who had wronged him.
He felt joy for all he had accomplished.

Above all, he felt pride.
He had performed his best.
He had said his lines.
He had played the role.

He looked up to the sky.
The clouds were gathering;
The curtains were closing.
The man closed his eyes and said a prayer.

God looked down at what had just happened.
He was satisfied.
The Script He had written had been perfectly performed.
The act was over, the play that would forever change humanity.

Just a little prose I wrote about a year ago...thought I'd post it...feel free to comment

Hey guys!

Well, presenting my new blog, Glass Menageries (da-da-daaaa). Hopefully, I will get something posted on here that's halfway decent. Just created this blog as a place for me to write and get stuff outta my head. One of these days I plan to really flesh this thing out, so stick with me til I do, but until then I will just be posting when I can find inspiration to write. Maybe once I figure out this computer thing I can find a way to record and post songs (maybe?).... Anyways, I don't have much else to say for now...check back soon!