Always Say So Little

Good evening ladies and gentlemen. (I'm confident more than one woman and one man reads this blog, so I similarly confident in my address.)

I realise I have not posted a poem for the past two weeks. Wretched of me, I know. However, I wrote today two pages of dialogue to a story I've been thinking about. Exciting! ...and still, the same three poems in my head. One is long, one is pretty terrifying to write, and the third is a rewrite.

I always have so much to write on this blog. Yet I always write so little.

And yet, something to say now.

The girl visited this past weekend. We broke up.

Now, that's rather shocking. But really, it's not. The stress, disatisfaction has been growing for quite a while. And in love there needs to be a lot of grace, wisdom, peace and patience. So I believe, and trust, that the change of our relationship is defined by all these things.

Because, I love her, first and always. And I'm in love with her, second and always.

Oh, and I do have the greatest best friend in the world. Is there a designation before "first"?

There should be.

Delay of Tuesday

I'm sick.

The girl is coming today!

I just finished my last midterm and have a homework assignment to turn in before fall break starts.

And I just finished baking a cheesecake.

I've got 3 poems in mind, but I think I've done quite enough today.

Thank you, Happy Face!

I'm Sick

*sneezes*

And my mommy isn't here to take care of me.

First time I've been this sick since beginning college and my mom isn't here.

That, my friends, is what I call balderdash!

Tuesday's Poem #5

I dedicate this poem to lovers - lost, hurting, sad, alone, together.

And hell, Damion, you were not in my heart as I was writing this but you were damn sure there when I edited it.

"What is Love?"

Love is sacrifice
what would you not give?

Love is joy
to the unadulterated desire, even

Love is perserverance
when it is not always so joyous

Love is anger
for sometimes there is fear

Love is happiness
in the midst of pounding hearts

Love is peace
for such pounding isn't constant

Love is desire
although in the dead of night it may be

Love is selfishness
for what is more selfish in life

Love is talking
than wanting conversation with one

Love is friendsip
to last all the days

Love is toil
in the midst of struggle

Love is faith
to last to the end.

Love is one kiss
That defines a lifetime

Love is hope
who needs more?
Love is hope.

A rose given to you
By one heart, one life
Pulsing fast and true

A banner, this flower
Red and brilliant
Bursting with our power

It waves this signal
See its resplendance
Answer its call!

Beaten and bloody
Oppressed by all things on all sides
- truth, defiant beauty

Stand to protect, weakness surround
To prove as warrior
Devout and bound

Stand as beside
To prove as help and mate
Bursting with pride

Beautiful
Heart, mind, body
Defiant, powerful

Weakness
Heart, mind, body
Frail, yet lioness

Yet...

...fail to define.
Know as I am yours
Love claims you as mine

"If I Were a Christian"

I love riding the buses around Chapel Hill. There is such an immersion into the people that one is hard-pressed to find anywhere else. Snippets of conversations. Sight of folks entering or ending the day - tired, happy, eager, sad, or remote. It's all rather fascinating. Especially so for me because I love to hear people talk. I love to know what people think. The dichotomy of personalities, beliefs, and opinions is so rich and I, as an observer, do love to have my cake.

Of note was my ride home this past Friday. A young man who had picked up a conservative magazine (how do I never find out about these things?) was chatting with a woman he knew from class. I was sitting beside them, so there conversation was quite clear. He expressed disbelief at some statement on the back of said magazine and she joined him with this statement: "If I were a Christian, I would be so upset that someone told me I couldn't be Christian and a liberal." No freakin' doubt my ears were pricked.

And while I would have loved to join in on the conversation, my taciturn belief that that would have been quite rude leashed such intentions. However, what she said gave me a great deal to think about.

Namely, I thought of how judgmental Christians tend to be. Especially when "their own" are concerned. I am reminded of Lizzie's retort to Miss Bingley's assertion - "You're severe upon your sex, Miss Bennet." To which Elizabeth of course responded in kind: "I must speak as I find."

Surely there are many Christians that feel this. Yet in general, should we not respond with Miss Bingley's reply? "Perhaps you haven't had the advantage of moving in society enough." All digs aside, surely there are good, nonjudgmental Christians around and ready to be found, as long as we look under the right rocks.

But this is the fearful thing. Christ said that those without sin should cast the first stone. God alone has the power to judge. Yet what overwhelms the Christian and Far Right society? Judgment. Moral highground. Dirty old men standing atop their precious mountains of righteousness shouting out, "I'm clearer than you! God loves me! He hates you!" all the while clutching some filty rag just behind his back.

We shouldn't have to root around in the underground to find Christians who defy the tide of righteous indignation and actually seek to live by their God's commands.

Actually, we should be indignant ourselves, that so much of the "wrong sort" defines the cultural expectations of what exactly a Christian is. We should be angry. I know I am.

Let's Go Tigers!

A 119 game losing season 3 years ago.

No names, except for one petulant former Texan who can't stand cameras - read Kenny Rogers.

New manager in the form of the ever-loving Tom Leland.

There you have the definition of underdogs. And gosh darn't, if we all don't love the underdogs.

Especially when they beat the Yankees.

No, no, let me rephrase that. Especially when they spank the Yankees.

Which is just what the Detroit Tigers happened to do tonight, defeating the Yankees 8-3, clinching a 3-1 series win. Go home Yankees. Go home!

But the true clincher? The true feel good story apart from a club rebounding from 119 losses 3 years ago and stabbing a dagger into the heart of the hated Yankees? An entire city bursting with pride. Players running down to the locker room to grab some champagne bottles and running back to the stadium to celebrate with their fans. Tom Leland being carried off the field by his players.

Oh, yeah, and Kenny Rogers jumping up into the stands with two bottles of champagne and spraying the fans, even splashing a little onto a cop and then hugging him - rather personable I fancy.

Great pitching always defeats great hitting. Always.

Go Tigers!!



(I think it likely that no one who reads this blogs is even cognizant about how much I know about baseball and pitching, specifically. The girl might have an idea. But really, I could start an entire blog critiquing and advising pitchers. Take for instance winning pitcher Jeremy Bonderman's horrifically low elbow. Do you notice the ulnar nerve literally popping out? When throwing a baseball your arm is put under tremendous pressure. The further you drop your arm (read: elbow) the more stress you pile on. It's simply a recipe for disaster. All that, and Bonderman has probably one of the safter arm actions out there. But do you see how much his neck is straining as he's about to release the ball? Indicative of how quickly he's throwing open his guiding shoulder, putting again even more stress on himself and taking so much power off the ball. Wow, I haven't talked this much about baseball in a while. Everyone can blame Notre Dame boy - Detroit born he is.)

Tuesday's Poem #4

"Here It Stands"

Crucifix.
Altar.
Sacrifice.

Blood.
Guilt.
Offering.

Love.
Sacrifice.
Gift.

Used and twisted
This our hope
Once glorious
Once white
Black now as sin

Sin even
Itself,
Itself!

Hope fades
As image tarnishes
Becomes blacker still

This is hope?
This is glory?

But faintly
- Yes

Look past
Man
Woman
Child
- those who hide

Look at what they hide

See hidden glory
Hidden truth
Hidden hope

Because here it stands,
By faith
Not hand
By love,
- not man