Focus

God gives us pictures. Satan gives us images. The difference being that one is an impression of truth and one a concrete certainty of truth, but a lie.

I just watched 127 Hours and I couldn't react. "what'd you think of the movie?" my brother-in-law asked. "i don't wanna talk about it" was all I could say. it left me hollow. unfeeling. I went up to the kitchen and had chocolate ice cream in the dark. it left me thinking that I don't DO anything, not really. What's a do? Rockclimbing. Spelunking. Hiking. Camping (I can hardly setup a tent). Skiing, sledding...I walk. So I guess a do is getting outside. Something with fresh air and . experience.
we remember movies, kinda. We download music to match our scenes with a soundtrack. We watch our shows and have nothing to show for it. We school to get a degree and learn stuff we'll never use, getting up to our eyes in debt to do it. We buy stuff to decorate our homes that we won't own and probably can't leave to our children. Nothing lasts. Nothing counts - drinking, laughing, more work, better work, different work, that extra bowl/plate/bite of whatever . it's all gone in a moment.
so I'm contemplating faith. faith for freedom from that bite. for freedom to have the bite. all in service of me.

a wind of change from the east.
propulsion encircles and pulls me home, inspiration, fulfillment, belief.
Strategy, wisdom - wisdom of the ages.
i wish I was braver, or prettier, or just happy. I declare the power of the lord to do the things I've always dreamed. I've waited for them to begin, to be handed to me, but i can really do anything. havering, faithfulness, you faithful one. i love you. You've permitted confidence to be transplanted. Disgust, replaced by ... renewal. disgust is for a thing deemed unworthy, wasted, rotting, passing, stagnant, dying. But Renewal, ah, rejuvenation. My skin, my heart, my bones, my eyes, my trees, my stars. Discovered a new world all my own, never before explored - and every heartwrenching yearning, all the desires and frustrations of captivity are simply vanished, as if they never were. so my heart says 'do this' or 'no, please' and I do or I don't or I do anyway because I can't not, but I'm okay! I'm Okay! I'm better than okay, I'm really great.
Free to dance
free to sing
free to be mad for my king
because he's set me up
on solid ground .. ?
I try to seek him in the ways I choose - finding him where I've walked.
But how about to follow him?! to run where he runs! I want that: this the cry of my heart!
Love, o loveless!
take Heart, o heartless!
There's a redeemer who's taken interest, he's shown his breath, and it is love, wonder, truth and peace to be me and be free! to be free!
All of who I am has been built with purpose. musculature, bones, bits, eyes, hair, abilities, propensities, lights, tears, triumphs, overcomings, and even my disgracies, just bits of fluff to fill the stuffed animals I give as gifts to my children, bless them.

oh god.

what have you done?

my head exploded in a blast of infamy and effigy, blasphemy and a sound mind.

to bring him home, reel him in. not just geographic separation, but concept and form, embodiment found not in shape or measured in energy, but identified by the one who walks in the way.



"he's not outside of you"

"Where does God Live? HOW does God live?"



He's in a way. the seed. the living, moving breathing walk of a man submitted to that which he cannot see, but has received, one who believes in the 'benefits of liberty.'

I'm on fire

I'm cool as river water

Full to bursting with life my tropical jungle


They say walking's the best exercise; I say it's the only exercise.
A walk, like a dove, symbolizes something entirely else.







I totally wrote 'effigy' as 'eggify'.

I'm in danger, an animal alive and restless. Tonight the dew develops and closes in on itself, frozen within.

and all those tears
them crying shames
douse to find mine minerals
rubies sapphires clean water
hidden where
i'd no idea.
Minerals mine buried
studded all through in


I wait for some spark to catch my eye and constantly ignore the light within. All of me . was . so invested in the earth.
I just heard a vision of the truth.
I would have said I'm so elsewhere all the time, blind to my heart, but my heart is all I see before me. My Faith (His Faith) is made manifest (out there) so I might know where I stand: ankle deep, swimming, dry as a bone. Faith enough to swim in when all we need's a mustard seed. How he grows (us).

I can't keep people; I can't impress enough, I can't stay perfect in their eyes. I can only walk, and only this will do.
I speak and forests grow, I smile and the fish of the river leap and race, I believe and all things are open to me. There is no time of day that I cannot be part of my Father; there is no dream that is not of him. Sorrows are moments stuck  to the clock by which we live. But His time is a face without hands, numbers, or cogs - just light and music. "Seasons!" he sings, "Dance and live for joy and peace are yours eternally! Be awake, be heartfelt in all things, for your God is with you!  Turn to Him that you might be moved to deliverance!"  I open my eyes and see Spirit, learning to move in that.
We've been freed, put to pasture to feed, and learn and grow, and we immediately run back to our stalls where they know us and we can pretend there's actually nothing better than where we're at.

the streets are wet
lamplights shine a glow that lights the way
the glare in the drops, desperation
and I'm finding it hard to say:

despair pushes its way in
lost I can't find the light of day
deadening thoughts cuff me down
I'm struggling to say:

I believe
I am yours
there's nothing else besides us;
living life
behind closed doors
I'm sheltered emprisoned uncovered;
But to you who frees
to you who sees
I'm fully formed and beautiful;
I admit I've run to others
but you're the life of me
you're life to those who believe

if what you say is true
then my words are the life i choose,
my heart is drumming, my throat is humming
so close so much to lose:

but i'm still here, still with you
I've not gone so how could you?
'God with men' something something.




I don't know how writing music works. rather, writing lyrics. my poems haven't (necessarily) lent themselves to music, but to write something cohesive...i don't know whether music or lyrics come first.
There's more, there's always more. But I can't touch it at the moment. -hanss

Sonship. Kingship. Worth & Integrity.

I was taken by the dark night, alone with the house, the warm wind - how unusual. So I jumped on the trampoline into the night sky. I was lifted in the warmth, the breeze that spoke and whispered and I laughed. I was impressed by the noise of the trees, the loud susurrus; I used to hear it as harsh and scary, which it was for a moment, but I changed it - rather let it be changed. I lay down on the cold tramp and the holy spirit in ghost white overlayed me head to foot, rested upon me as a sheet - and I was impregnated, planted with a holy seed. I know I've seen this image before. Oh, Genesis. The Spirit hovered over the face of the deep. Found me. And it was time to bring forth. I prayed that I would either be loosed from the confines of this body or be able to share it. I cannot stand the shell it is - the way touch doesn't infiltrate or satisfy. That he's the only thing that satisfies: You're the only one.
Then I couldn't jump anymore, but spoke with my father and ran indoors.
I began pacing, knowing there was a push, a work, a presence. I prayed to him: Father I know you're here to produce. I've carried and warred and grown and here's the time. You know the time father, but I feel so unworthy. But I know you won't give me anything I can't handle. (I knew I could either grab the presentation, the offering, or deny it until later. always later...) I don't know what's here, but I know I've integrity, you made me and brought me here and here is good. So, knowing your character I say yes, God, I say yes.
And then I paused, and froze. and the dam broke within me and I was crushed from within and without by the contraction of every muscle and all of everything - pushing and pulling and moving forth, a flush of Water and Life that ripped through me in a torrent of power. I was on my face and tongues poured out of me until I had to turn onto my back.
I was facing my father in heaven and he wrote across my neck - shoulder to shoulder - words imbedded within each other: faithfulness, integrity, worthy. And the eyes of angels, 4 pairs were beneath him. And I prayed that I don't need the eyes of men any longer, but for Him, His eyes alone; that I would bear witness to the angels.
That I would be assigned an angel, a partner.
I saw myself as the second of four.
I saw my hands produce gold powder, stars - faith.
He stamped me remodeled, and all I could do was believe him. I asked how I could walk in that, free of the old casting. and He showed me. I grabbed the old covering from the floor, the old skin, and went to the door to throw it into the night where the wind caught it and carried it away.

There is a way that I am become.

of all the stars
in that heaven
the one shines most
shines bright and even.
fervent hot
unglaring,
it boils and burns
providing deepest nights with even more brilliant light.
When do I stand out but in darker depths?
The effervescent family of Truth
exudes the day,
that revels in undending glow,
lightheart bounty flowing freely
pure white set to give life
and that more abundantly for growth-
the unveiling of shame as a falsity
only my eyes now see
the world - its fruit - in fulness
as I stand in wonder.

What are you doing? has been the line lately.
More recently it's been 'Singularity of mind', that in purpose, set and founded in direction forth. Yesterday I floundered and wept and it felt like scraping nails upon my skin, made worse by the beauty of the day. My very freedom was washing through the trees and bringing me newness from everywhere.
So today I am free. The lie has been that I am unaware or too aware, that I take everything for granted and appreciate no thing. But I have been made to drove, to follow forward with purpose and direction, delivering a payload (myself) to a destination I'll keep reaching (eternity). How does one step into eternity? It's obviously not a place you can get to, but rather it's something you slip into, or on like a robe. Mantle? The EAC, eh? Jump in whenever you like and you'll be carried.

i am a whore i do confess
i put you on just like a wedding dress
and i run down the aisle
run down the aisle
a prodigal with no way home
i put you on just like a ring of gold
and i run down the aisle
run down the aisle

my heartshorn nickels
don't buy what they used to
tho they're not worth less.
values have widened
like bottoms
to consume whatever chair seems
most likely rest.
we are becoming like giants of old,
the ones they feared,
who lived in the land of plenty
and were fearsome because of it.