creating me [using words]

Archive for the month “February, 2013”

Dear Friend

Dear Friend,

I am very, very scared of the future. I wish you could rescue me, but of course, you can’t. You care, though, and perhaps that is enough.

I read in the Psalms yesterday that God surrounds me with cries of deliverance. Do you think that could be true?

Maybe my friends can be the cries that surround me? Will you cry for me, friend?

Someday I hope to bless you as you have blessed me.

I love you,



I Gazed Upon a Pornographic Picture

Staring at her bared anus, I have thought many thoughts:



She’s naked
Do I hate her
Or pity her
(envy her
I think not

Why is she naked?
Does she feel free
Or wanted
Like in a poster
“10k—Dead or Alive”
How much alive is she
Do the greedy chasers
slowly kill her
hunting bounty
or does she control the prize
by her own power?
Is it power
to be wanted
or chain?
To manipulate demand
to force a head to turn
an eye to stare
does it feel like having a voice
Why not use your lips, your brain
unless you lose
against the brawn of bigger men
then find the thing that fells them.
Who wins now?
Or has everybody lost?


Was she forced against her will?
Or did she think this was the only
way to get noticed?

I wonder.


Has anyone
ever told her
she matters?
Has anyone
ever been gentle
with her heart?

Does she do this for money
for kicks and giggles
for thrill and pleasure
to feel alive
or to stay alive?
Is she desperate or confused?
Is she happy?

Who is she?

Did she set out
to wreck marriages,
tease men?
Was this who she
dreamed of becoming
at six on the swing set
at school?

Who was she?

Is this all
she will ever be?
A naked woman?
Does she have a future?
Will anyone help her
find it?

Who will she become?


The hand over her breast—
All else is exposed.
Is this a tease
or a last-ditch effort
at self-possession?


a lamp, a phone
alarm clock on a nightstand
beside the bed where she poses
Is this her dorm room
or a set in which to pose?

Who holds the camera?
Someone who pretended
to love her once?
How much money does he pocket
as dispenser of her goods?
Does he think her low
or does he think of her at all?
Is he the man
who dreams up acts
and calls his props
the whore?


I notice
her head is turned away.
I would turn my head too—
wouldn’t you?


I cannot stop thinking about her
and other faceless victims
and the anger I feel at men
who ignore their deep and abiding shame

Shame exists for a reason,
(though it is oft’ misapplied)
But shame is a worthy feeling
For the one who profits from rape


She is inviting you—
Just look at that pose.
The message couldn’t be clearer—
You are wanted,
You nameless man
behind the screen
who hasn’t showered


Go ahead.
Pretend to f—her.


And if I were to hold nothing back at all, to the men I would say:

This is your sister
This is your daughter
This is your mother,
Your wife, your friend

This is a woman,
A human being
With a heart
With a story
With a life
Of wounds
And dreams

Who knows why
she poses so
but she couldn’t, wouldn’t
if you had not forgotten
her soul
deprecated her sisterhood
disowned her as your daughter
shunned the womb that brought you life
spurned the love that held you tight

men bleed hatred
for our race
who knows why?
we have poured out our love
given ourselves away
only to be ravaged
again and again
by the thirsty men
who will not slay their thirst
any other way
than to deny our humanity

they write books
create philosophies
talk amongst themselves
to find the complex reasons
for their treacheries
words upon intelligent words
to shield them from looking
in the eyes of a woman
to see her

better to watch an anus
than see a soul
who could fight back

Change of Scenery

What if I were looking at my present life from some place in the future?

Would all this seem like a short (but necessary) chapter?

Would heartache reveal its purpose?

Does this future-dreaming affect the way I see the now? (Yes, of course)

How realistic is that?

Do I set myself up for disappointment by dreaming?

Is it really fair (to myself, to others) to dream such dreams with so little chance of success?

Are these whispers of a future life or an empty mirage of hopeful fantasy?

Does fantasy only serve to escape the present or does fantasy serve as a window, a looking glass, a new set of lens to a present life that is too painfully blinding to gaze straight upon it?

What is the role of impossible dreams?

Do they create unnecessary friction with the present or extraordinary faith for the future?

What is the sense in being practical? If it is the dreams that make you come alive?

Is the stuckness of the present moment overcome by gritting my teeth and facing the dim or by unlocking an imagination wild with color?

Is it okay to want impossible things?

To pretend to fly, for instance?

Or to imagine myself a wind impervious to impact?

Or to dream of a love that does not hurt me?









Facebook/Twitter 13 Rules of Engagement

I haven’t posted in awhile, so here is something different, just for fun.

Facebook/Twitter 13 Rules of Engagement:
Etiquette for a New Era

1. Do not complain about drivers on the road.

A) Nobody feels sorry for you. The same thing just happened to them. B) This is not noteworthy, interesting, exciting, or worthy of sympathy. C) While this is a more technologically sophisticated method of shouting at other drivers, the impact is the exact same—they still cannot hear you! D) You should not be status-updating while driving anyway. 

2. Do not talk about your cold, your allergies, or other petty illnesses (see A and B above.)

3. Do call (yes, with a telephone) your relatives and close friends or tell them in person when possible if you have important news.

Grandma should not find out about your cancer or your pregnancy or your job promotion via facebook.

4. Do not begin a post with the phrase, “That awkward moment when,” or other over-used phrases that stopped sounding clever last year.

5. Do send real birthday cards (on time) in the mail to the people who matter most to you.

Whatever means technology provides you, nothing says happy birthday like a card that you had to remember on your own to send.

6. Do not gripe mysteriously about the unnamed person who just wronged you in order to garner vague sympathy from people who do not know you and was-it-me-angst from the people who do.

7. Do use proper punctuation.

8. Do not post a comment on social media that you would not say to someone face-to-face. Just don’t. Ever.

It is no less embarrassing to put your foot in your mouth via the internet. In fact, it is arguably more embarrassing since the audience is wider and everything you say has an afterlife. At least, we are all embarrassed for you, which is awkward.

9. Do try using complete sentences from time to time.

Like writing in cursive, it is good to see if you can still do it every now and again.

10. Do not post endless pictures of your child donned in your favorite sports team’s attire.

Hint: This is neither cute nor original.

11. Do find your self-worth outside of likes, retweets, and friend/follower counts.

12. Do not be persuaded that just because you can have your personal thoughts published at any time, your thoughts are, in fact, publish-worthy.

You are decidedly not an expert on most of what is being discussed, so do not pretend to be just because you can get away it. There are plenty of other readers learned enough to correct you, but they are too polite, too annoyed, or too bored to do so.

13. And for the love of God, keep your political rants to yourself, whatever your flavor.

If you want to open up dialogue on an important topic, then create a dialogue. You must not have noticed: monologues of mockery persuade everyone on the other side to stand their ground even stronger, so you are shooting yourself in the foot, even if it does feel good to release some steam. 

So, what would you add as Rule of Engagement #14?

Jeremiah 1.4-10

In the womb of God
Jeremiah was born
a prophet

Called forth
from an early age
too young to speak

except to share
God’s own words

in that incarnational
baby prattle
the world discredits

while it stirs up soil,
deposits seed,
uproots all things

with monosyllable
sounds, gurgling
a blessed truth

too heavenly
to be heard
by the self-assured.

An empty vessel
will serve truth best—
young, shy enough

to listen first, then speak
by imitating God’s first tongue,
that mother-to-baby-babble.

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creating me [using words]


creating me [using words]