G Craige Lewis

I was checking out this hip-hop group called Hazakim and I got onto this clarkyboy.com website once again, revisiting another issue with what's holy and what's not. People, come on.

Let me comment on this G Craige Lewis thing and I'll be done. This is getting old...

This is laughable. Honestly, I have been saved for years. I am not perfect, nor do I profess to be. I have my own sin issues just like everyone else, but I take the Word of God seriously from a teaching standpoint. If I am speaking to someone that is not telling me the whole truth and just pieces, then I am going to be skeptical. What I don't understand is why are you Christians accepting part of Craige's sermon and ignoring the portion where he has obviously distorted the facts? Everyone wants to spout all these nice scriptures and talk about what he is saying is "truth" when he has things wrong. What is that about?

People looking for something to believe in. Anything. Anything that seems like it is sound doctrine. That's why we have so many offshoots of Christianity. We can't even agree how to worship God, anyway. Everybody wants to say their way is right and that's wrong and "oh, that's the devil" because you can't relate. Dude, are you serious? I guess I can call my artwork "devil inspired" because they don't have the image of Christ in them. Or, my poetry is of the devil because I don't always talk about God. Y'all must be joking. This is some silly stuff. If you want to call a duck a duck, make sure it's not a platypus first.

You say you want truth, but it's obvious you want a scapegoat. Someplace to lay blame. We are in the world but not of it, so why do we need to lay blame on anything in the world? We need to turn the eyes to our innermost being.

Let me address this...
"People often focus on the man instead of the message. We look for reasons to discredit a person rather than examining there words for the truth. What these brothers don't realize is that Craig G Lewis is not a " hiphop head" so to speak. So he doesn't have the same source of information as someone that is a part of the culture. Does his slight inaccuracies make his words false? Let’s talk about truth. No real hiphop insider considers Kool Herc to be solely the father of hiphop." -D. Davis

What? Really? You serious? People lie all the time. Their messages are like poison. The bible even says that the tongue is one of the worst offenders. So why would I want to look at the message? People talk about what these pastors say like it's the end-all-be-all, but they can't say who this man really is in his heart. Test the heart, the inner being, then you will see what's real. People hide their real intentions all the time. The Anti-Christ, when he appears, will be one such person. So, for real, test the man and not the message. The message can always be a front, but the inner being does not lie.

That's all I'm saying. So, if you want to judge hip-hop, make sure you judge the elements of who you are as well as the person who is rapping. I'm tired of this debate. Look to put blame on the individual and his doings rather than just the words and messages he is saying. The world is full of talkers and slanderers. Action is what is needed. Follow the acts and test the heart.

I'm out.

Oompa Loompa Song (Hip-Hop version)

Oompa, Loompa, doom-pa-dee-pick
Here is a thing that’s making me sick
Oompa, Loompa, doom-pa-da-dee-swill
Why get on da mic if you ain’t got skill?

Who do you blame when you spit a wack rap?
Hiding behind gold chains and ball caps
Thinking the deal is about looking clean
When you’re too illiterate to write a sixteen.

Your crew is gassin’ yooooouuuu…

Oompa, Loompa, doom-pa-dee-da
If you’re not wack then you might get far
You may receive some props for it, too
Like the Oompa Loompa doom-pa-dee-do

Never Too Much

Some very special lyrics for the wonderful woman in my life. This is the real deal right here, and says a whole lot about my real feelings. I know there are people out there that feel this way about their significant other. Luther Vandross sang the mess out of this song.

"Never Too Much"

I can't fool myself, I don't want nobody else to ever love me
You are my shinin' star, my guiding light, my love fantasy
There's not a minute, hour, day or night that I don't love you
You're at the top of my list 'cause I'm always thinkin' of you

I still remember in the days when I scared to touch you
How I spent my day dreamin' plannin' how to say I love you
You must have known that I had feelings deep enough to swim in
That's when you opened up your heart and you told me to come in

Oh, my love
A thousand kisses from you is never too much
I just don't wanna stop

Oh, my love
A million days in your arms is never too much
I just don't wanna stop

Too much, never too much, never too much, never too much

Woke up today, looked at your picture just to get me started
I called you up, but you weren't there and I was broken hearted
Hung up the phone, can't be too late, the boss is so demandin'
Opened the door up and to my surprise there you were standin'

Well, who needs to go to work to hustle for another dollar
I'd rather be with you 'cause you make my heart scream and holler
Love is a gamble and I'm so glad that I'm winnin'
We've come a long way and yet this is only the beginnin'

Oh, my love
A thousand kisses from you is never too much
(Never too much, never too much, never too much)
I just don't wanna stop

Oh, my love
A million days in your arms is never too much
(Never too much, never too much, never too much)
And I just don't wanna stop

Oh, my love
A thousand kisses from you is never
(Never too much, never too much, never too much)
I just don't wanna stop

Oh, my love
A million days in your arms is never too much

My Sentiments Multiply

In the interim, my sentiments multiply, marking my dreams as I delight in the memories of your kisses
Conjuring thoughts and making wishes, seeing my delight grow with abandon, hurriedly, you are all I imagined
So when I look into your eyes, know that there is a longing, deeper than the depths of all surveyed, expanding like the skies
When I touch your face I intend to transfer the tenderness you give so that you may know of my true pleasure
And when I am holding your hand the moment extends, my love without end, creating a home in my heart, forever.

Bullets But No Gun

Life and love about my head, a harrowing calamity calling me
To a destination where you look like you’ve seen a ghost and I
Am not scared at all of the happenings, a page written in a book
Lost long ago, and it makes no sense to drag my face about the past.
You are a synonym for Sunday afternoons, family get-togethers and cookies and milk
You talk to me slowly subduing my angst and smoothing my mood to silk
Let me break bad and tear huge holes in the quilt
Let me be sad about the all the hopes you just killed
Yet I can’t be mad, it’s the world that I have built
Pulling me in, bleeding me thin, wasting my wants like water being spilled.

Maybe I could be the free one, roaming and shuffling these roads alone
The sole bastard too self-aware to regard the musings of the trite and dogged,
Dancing and twirling like a retarded danseur, my shoes too little and my attitude strange
Spitting pomegranate seeds into the wind to remind myself that it all comes back in my face, eventually
I am the conundrum of the multi-faceted, a Jack-of-All-Trades; Master of None?
I am the humble diversion of the wary traveler, where the hell should I run?
You can get ghost and leave me in the dusted sun.
You can play host to an assortment of friends swallowing rum.
And you can’t seem to see that this is just all too fun.
Turning you away, asking you to stay: Likely I have the bullets but no gun.

Excerpt: Genesis of the God Hand

The city loomed above him, the megaliths firm and dark in the distance. All around him the city circled, huge and silent, neon lights pushing their warm glow to his skin. He could see Enforcer lights whirling and flashing blue and red in pursuit of offenders. He could see the colossal Goldman-Hart Tri-Plex, a group of the three tallest man made structures in history, seemingly touching heaven. They were progressively taller than one another, with a difference of about two-hundred feet or so per building. Jonny slowed to a brisk walk, dumbstruck at the sheer magnificence of this place. It all seemed distressingly hypnotic to him, as if he was lost in the perils of some futuristic Edgar Allen Poe novel. Jonny could feel his surroundings breathe and shudder against the night, alive and clawing at him, hungry to crush him. He stopped to steady himself, propping against the side of an adult video emporium, bathed in the light of its interior. The sign read “XXX Sex on the Wild Side, Videos and more”. Almost stumbling backwards at the realization, he now knew his destination was no more than a hundred yards away, in the back alley of the next block, in a store called Zion Christian Books.

He made a break for it, running without looking behind to see if they were following. The box bounced at his side, and he reached down to pat it once more. He had to make it. His father had put considerable importance in the package. He still did not know what it held, but figured it might be disclosed to him upon delivery. Whatever it was, it was deathly urgent, for his Dad had to send him away with it, alone and with no explanation. Jonny thought it was stupid they way they figured he was always too young to know anything. But I’m not too young to roam the streets late at night like some god-awful super-spy messenger. My teacher always says that I’m the smartest in my class, and they’ve already said they’re gonna have to skip me a couple of grades because I’m more advanced than the rest of my class. Jonny wished that he could prove himself to everyone, and let them know how really smart he was. He would deliver the package without a problem. He had to.

He saw the corner of Zion, and made a swift right turn into the alley. There would be a key in an old soup can near the steps so that he could let himself in. In the poorly lit place he came to a slow halt, nearly out of breath. His heart thumped like a bongo drum, and he felt the adrenaline rush, laughing out loud then covering his mouth with his hand in realization. He needed to be as quiet as possible. A few old aluminum garbage cans were set in front of him, along with full black plastic bags of trash. This seemed archaic to him, for he never saw his trash. It was incinerated as soon as it was thrown away. He remembered reading that there were landfills around that had garbage stacked to the heavens, and a smell that could kill. I guess these bags go to the landfill. He shook off those thoughts and proceeded to his task. He saw a couple of rats running back up into the darkness, and shuddered as if he felt chill. This is so nasty and disgusting. To his left, in between the trash cans and plastic bags, was the soup can. He bent at the knees and picked it up, looking it over. It read “Campbell’s” in bold cursive, and the name of the soup had been ripped from the rest of the label. In it’s place was the sign of the cross, sloppily painted in red. It was the right can. Inside he found the key.

“Boy, give us the pendant, and you may live to see tomorrow.” The can dropped with a silence shattering tinkle, and Jonny turned with terror in his eyes to two figures standing at the entrance to the alley. He could not tell which of them had spoken. Fear gripped him, and he stepped towards the door.

“Give us the pendant, and you will not be hurt,” the second figure hissed. The first one sounded more masculine, a strong bass voice. The second figure was less masculine, but more frightening. The words came out of his mouth in a metallic twang, like an electric guitar being plucked. Each word he said hung in the air, in a strange echo. At his last word, they stepped toward once, in unison. Like robots…or something…like a robot.

Anything That Bled

He just don’t sing the dream, that makeshift miracle lives in his eyes, watching himself walk a path posers attempt to settle.

Just don’t seem right, the angle is a bit too high, and it’s getting hard to tell where he’s been and where he’s going.

It’s getting to be a little difficult to focus. He doesn’t see things like he used to, but when he closes his eyes it’s still there.

It’s still there, a beacon glowing through the pitch of night. More real, more tangible than anything that bled, the dream pulsed and boomed in his head.

The Peddler

The deliverer and not some shiftless common vagrant
upon a nightstand he spread sense shaped like dollar bills
gnarled fingertips laughing across wood grain, hoping
to find more texture in the reality it might buy
and his visions individually wrapped fortune cookies
breaking off to expose an axiom crafted lovely
not some nomad adventurer but a seeker of life hating
his plight but more bent to admonish a lesser path
the better craft, the debtor past, the peddler, last.

Separate; Together

We are separate
ideal droplets of rain never meeting but the same
but the same

We are connected minus the frame
holding it together in opposing names
think it strange

Sit on the edge of the bed
watch my world turn around
Leaving a little piece to find
A little piece of me behind

We are separate
complex modules made to fit, flip and click
flip and click

We are connected minus the frame
holding it together in opposing names
think it strange

Sit on the edge instead
turning my world upside down
Leaving a little piece to find
A little piece of me behind

Self-Same/No Escape

Another one from long ago...

Just as I stagger in, seems like I’m staggering alone
Just seems lonely as I smile ‘cause they know I’m a regular
Charles is familiar and I’m more than proud to say I’m back
And there she is with a shied grin, black pumps waving
And there she is with her hair pulled back and a red pencil skirt
And she, never looking but I want them to look, I want them
They should visit the new me in fashionable attire, crisp new jeans
A mean New York cap and coke and vodka in a plastic cup
I am abrupt and tattered dealing my face like a deck of cards
So someone’s fancy can jump free of the ground
Still sulking in one spot, one shot down gazing in amazement
At a crowded frenzy of blinded lies I am making friends with images
Knowingly bludgeoning my wits against a wall of recidivism

If God had designed the underlying mechanisms to regenerate
He would have made a failsafe, a secret place of escape
I want them to know my urge to hold my thoughts in their hands
All the twinkles of my stars as the hourglass drains of sand

Here I am again, a bustling drunkard minus friends
Shuffling in expensive shoes with no ends to lend, laughing
At stories of hollow conquests, little hedonist hopes throwing my
Input into the fray, throwing my love like a baseball, then fouled away
Steadying upon a stump of associates crashing their names in my head
I don’t remember names well enough, but faces stay painted
And in my fingers I fix a playing theme, I have traced the lines a hundred times
Escape is never to be had, and I know, I know there is no walking around it

There is sound that pulses like light through the dark, hanging like a halo
My God should be angry, my whimpers swallowed and subdued,
I never ask Him when I should, “My Lord, what must I do?”
The night is not an answer, it is only a clue

The roses seem brighter here, but how is that true?
Even with another destination, there is always you
Even in another place, you will remain.
There is no escape. Your self is the same.

Liquidating the Cares Causing Corruption

Living languid in a fantasy world
The pictures placate lies abandoned, they will soon gather in
Cryptic posturing abroad, in the mirrors they pretend
Catching glimpses that describe how much money was made
Crushing codgers thumbing at their pill bottles, naked

Lighting laughter, sketches of dream gateways angled
The pleated monuments caught and frozen in mind
Centering on the sound leaving my life, those words wait,
Carrying meaning across the solar system to escape
Cataclysm, the breath taking, wasted but once sacred

Looking like an imbecile, my pretensions are jagged and heavy like bricks
The crown of genius dropped and I survey the release of my ego
Captain of a ship doomed to disaster one day, like all
Costs me nothing but affords a lock on reality
Contain, contract your lucid act, cock the gun on your favorite.

Leave me be
Thank you for noticing
Common are those almond eyes lurking alone
Concoct some building block that creates a shield
Creating a prison of a promising home

Pink Pants

Can’t you see it’s bothering me?
A stale kiss covering your caustic angst
You’re dripping your world in front of me, a watery nothing
To step over and avoid while ducking your lollipop face
Tears are for friends of martyrs and their inevitable Wake

Don’t worry too long with your nose in the air
I am punching holes in your picture, a pen through your eyes
I really hope you see me, I hope you see
It’s really bothering me and I don’t want you to change
Your reddish lips part to say something I heard yesterday

Distant stars caress my memories as I hold the night sky
Something of a wonder, this world, its charm
Something of a bargain of evil, ring the alarm
You’ve risen to cause trouble again, and you cry
You cry buckets when my eyes are dry

LOL! Can’t you see it’s bothering me?
These robots, iron-headed mules that pose like marionettes,
Trying to hold up the veil, its transparent glory,
the strawberry smear on a white sheet
the typographical error I choose to delete.

Won’t you come with me, huh, won’t you?
The whistles of candid enthusiasm
Marked optimism, the blurred vision of hope
Sitting in the right place, wanting nothing, asking never
To see something else I don’t want to need.

It’s me, it’s you and it’s time in a bottle
Preserved for your attention on a day when you can’t think
I’m pushing down the pedal, I mash at full throttle
Washing the reds in whites will turn your pants pink
Put some bleach in the water and soak them in the sink.

Ghosts Come In

I'm reaching out across this stone
The coldness, so old
The coldness like a withered hand bare in Winter wind
but I feel your skin

Bunches of cares and bags of thought, crumpled
I saw Age waste itself today
fell to dust and was blown away
and there are no tears

Sisters tell sisters of slope head men
dangerous dreamers, cowards and sin
They all look like lovers
Till love looks like all the others

I'm reaching out across this stone
A live chill, so bold
Like deadened words before the assassin's twist
He's holding your wrist

Across this stone
Across this stone
I think I fought my way on once
I think I fought for home
I found you
Alone.

Obviously, Noticeably

Still I was thinking sometime ago about the inevitability of a thought
A thought driven by her in drunken abandon, swerving madness merging
Then crashing the guard rails in my skull, a wrecking so wrought
Then another sped along laughing, her wide eyes wild and urging
Laughter as our courses ran parallel, I knew of her before my real self
Revealed self, my Age crying, grasping for the history of adolescence
So I could avoid that coming calamity, invariably reveal help
The real kept in a closet: dark. Should I pray for omnipresence?

I need you to know that you are the blaring melody
In my crooked steps home, my eyes on your kiss
Wishing love looked so impressive, it looks like this
It looks like a wish of all the wishes; Displeasure’s elegy

A reminder of madness if I ever knew of such clever pain
I endeavor to abstain, to avoid, to run away claiming ignorance
Gained. Why do you love me? Are we to play this game
And follow some set rules made of Fools of Fame and Innocence
Named? I shan’t. I can’t. I mean, make me believe God grants
Justice and keeps the faithful free. We have faith, don’t we?
These days, these meetings, your voice in my ear is not by chance
Leaving our desire known to see what others won’t see.

I need you to know I’ve grown and I’m thinking presently
Of your hand in mine, and we are shopping for grocery
And we will return to our new place of residency
And we are in sync, obviously, noticeably.

And we are in sync
And what do you think?
Is it obvious? Noticeably so?
Do we look as if we know something they don't know?

I Can't Wait, by Nu Shooz

Man, I love this song. Everytime I hear it, it reminds me of growing up during the onset of the MTV generation. But now, I have a much more recent fondness for it...It reminds me of someone...


I Can't Wait

My love, tell me what it's all about
You've got something, that I can't live without
Happiness, is so hard to find
Hey baby, tell me what is on your mind

Coz I can't wait (baby I can't wait)
Till you call me on the telephone
I can't wait (baby I can't wait)
Till we're all alone
I can't wait

You know I love you even when you don't try
I know that our love will never die
Hey darling, when you look into my eye
Please tell me you'll never have to say goodbye

Coz I can't wait (baby I can't wait)
This is what I've been waiting for
I can't wait (baby I can't wait)
Till my love walked in the door
I can't wait (baby I can't wait)
True love is so hard to find
I found yours, you found mine
I can't wait (baby I can't wait)
Tell me what is on your mind
I can't wait

The Stars, Your Voice

What I love about life is that it is so full of surprises. I could never guess what would happen to me next. I think that's much of the joy that we seem to take for granted. I believe that if we stop to see just how much we should be thankful for, the world be a happier place. Yet we heap misery upon one another, stacking pain like cinder blocks. And when Love comes unannounced as it is accustomed to, will we be buried too deep in the pain to reach out welcome it in?


And the stars look like diamonds glittering in the heavens
my eyes glowing gratefully caught
staring at many dreams, the wishes of my brethren
keepsakes knowing for what they were bought

And now I spend a fortune on you and your smile making
emptying my pockets in earnest mirth
giving it all; it's all there for the taking
my gratitude, my adoration's worth

Going toward love is possibly a fool's errand performed
whilst silly songs play steadily on
It is a dangerous occupation as I was warned
My mind slips and is readily gone

Yet for you, for you, for you I would remain lost
little by some chance gather pity
them throwing their change for me to regain cost
I am centered in your treasured city.

And a voice sounds like chimes ringing in the heavens
my ears knowing, graciously sought
against many lies, clouded and irreverent
that Reason, Love, and what you taught.

Silly

I was at work today, and I heard this song. Kind of hard to ignore the passion in it, and it is one of those heart felt ballads that will work its way to the core of you...it's called "Silly".

It's so very rare that I cry, but I heard this song and I was near tears...man. I know this is about a woman and her feelings for a man, but it makes me think about the times that maybe I was that man...the wrong I've done. Or maybe, the times I have spent by the phone wondering if I would ever hear from someone again. Minnie Ripperton is no joke, kid.


Silly of me to think that I
Could ever have you for my guy
How I love you
How I want you
Silly of me to think that you
Could ever really want me too
How I love you

You're just a lover out to score
I know that I should be looking for more
What could it be in you I see
What could it be

Oh...oh...oh...love, oh, love
Stop making a fool of me
Oh...oh...oh...love, oh, love
Stop making a fool of me

Silly of me to think that you
Could ever know the things I do
Are all done for you
Only for you
Silly of me to take the time
To comb my hair and pour the wine
And know you're not there

You're just a lover out to score
And I know that I should be looking for more
What could it be in you I see
What could it be

Oh...oh...oh...love, oh, love
Stop making a fool of me
Oh...oh...oh...love, oh, love
Stop making a fool of me

Ooh...hoo...hoo...hoo...

Silly of me to go around
And brag about the love I've found
I say you're the best
Well, I can't tell the rest
And foolish of me to tell them all
That every night and day you call
When you could care less

You're just a lover out to score
And I know that I should be looking for more
What could it be in you I see
What could it be

Oh...oh...oh...love, oh, love
Stop making a fool of me
Oh...oh...oh...love, oh, love
Stop making a fool of me, uh-huh

Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh
Ooh...ooh...ooh...silly
Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh
Ooh...ooh...ooh...silly

Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh
Silly
Ooh, ooh, la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
Silly
La-la-la-la-la-la
La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
Silly

Knowledge Is Wasted On Fools

They are all hollow, empty creatures, blind, their ragged intellect unkempt, misused, treading through the old world with its red-faced belligerence. Seems they walked ashamed then, and I am forced to confront the dead essence of what I hoped to avoid. Why do they ignore the signs? These are signs of tears, of blood, that sit high and noticeable but might as well be removed, for knowledge is wasted on fools.

It's as if their heads are vacant buildings that harbor dissidents and disease, rats and filth, but outwardly proclaim, "ROOMS for RENT: CHEAP!!!"

My mind is restless, caring naught for gain but glory, so I am lost in my own inner rebellion- good and evil clawing at my sternum. Still I am not empty, my honor is gold, and I realize the world holds nothing of the true substance anymore, emptied of its most promising days- or maybe those days are still on order.

Why is it that faith holds no meaning anymore? Are we really that empty, still, that we search for outward impressions instead of turning the eye to the inner? Is God dead in the eyes of men? I question that, because I read bits of "Thus Spoke Zarathustra" and the author's proclamation of "God's death" seemed to be a theme that echoes through this country. There is nothing sacred. We fall victim to the wiles of the devil, caught in his distractions, yet we must not make them our focus and backslide down the path to ruin.

A Future Time

This vision is for a future time.
It describes the end, and it will be fulfilled.
If it seems slow in coming, wait patiently,
for it will surely take place.
It will not be delayed.

Habakkuk 2:3 (NIV)

The future...

If only anyone could tell it with any surety...it would be a gift and a curse. To think of having such a gift and being a sane individual is hard to fathom. It would definitely drive me to the brink. I have to reason to want that sort of gift.

Yet we are infatuated with knowing the future. We forecast the weather, sales, elections. We as human beings have a fascination with WHAT WILL HAPPEN. I don't think we would know what to do if we could really tell what would happen 2 days from now. It would be a destructive power, disrupting everything, echoing in ripples, breaking all it touches.

Nostradamus predictions. Psychic lines. Tarot cards.

The Bible says beware of false prophets. I am inclined to follow directions. Sometimes these predictions hold true, but from whom do they really come? Check your sources, and beware...no one knows the future with any certainty but God in Heaven.

See Me in Shame

Losing a love like that worries the soul, hurries the heart beat and makes the time drag.
Looking there above, might that bury the role, parry the far reach and take the mind back?
Sad that I dream of you still yet know you are happier in another’s arms
Bad that I mean for your will kept low to mar laughter and forever harm.
Don’t I know that you believe my love died when I left you crying in your doorway?
Won’t I grow that blue relief, my rough lies then but jest, true, dying in more poor ways?
Yet I live on with a fondness for the future and an itch to become a greater man
Regrets? I give none. Gifted, bond-less, more the couture man, hand stitched: new. He shuns a faker brand.
Hopefully, if we ever meet again, I will be able to smile at you, and you greet me the same.
Woefully, rifts seem ever deep, my friend. I’m ill. Free, stable, too riled at you. And you see me in shame.

Endure

The theme for this weekend has to be "Endure".

When I was driving up this way it was storming like crazy, and it was
late at night. I was having a hard time seeing, but I pushed through. At
one point I felt I might need to pullover and wait for a time till it
passed; never happened. I endured that bit of weather to reach my
destination safely.

Saturday was the dance production for "Endure", a not-for-profit company
that takes those gifted with dance and puts them together to present
that gift to God. It was about 2 hours of dancing with no intermission.
Frenetic and intense, it made me think that the name Endure was not
chosen by coincidence. These performers went hard, quickly changing
between sets, seemingly giving their all for God and their talent.

Therefore I am reminded that I have endured; that I must continue to
endure. That I must be patient if I am to claim the prize that God has
for me. He has a woman for me. A beautiful, loving Christian woman that
will be like the rib attached to my spine. He has a home for me. He has
a car for me. I will be victorious in my quest for better health. I will
find all that I need in HIM.

I fear not the future. It is something that will happen. I can only
partly influence it with my actions. Some things are out of my control,
such as other people and their ways and actions. So I move forward, no
matter what, knowing I have a destiny in JESUS CHRIST, trusting Him to
set the crooked things straight. I will ENDURE what comes, and pray that
I am able to stand against my enemies to create a brighter future for
myself.

Marcelle D. Ward

Dear Shadows (the nature of a thing)

To the shadows that haunt these strange, caged angles
The shadows that bathe in the corners and the annals
Seeping through the crevices, creeping in the cracks
The shadows that laugh and curse at our backs

Were you dreaded and frightening, cold and lost?
Alive in our nightmares, but our dreams, accost?
Ghosts of our days playing in the light
Waiting for the maddening pulse of the night

Dear Shadows, I watch, and follow along
Gathering my thoughts as to what you did wrong
I find it is none but the nature of a thing
To want more for itself; to follow its dreams.

2 Sides

"There are moments which mark your life, moments when you realize
nothing will be the same, and time is divided into 2 parts: 'Before
this' and 'After this'. Sometimes you can feel a moment like this
coming...or so I tell myself. I tell myself that at times like that,
strong people keep moving forward anyway. No matter what they're going
to find." - Intro by Denzel Washington in "Fallen"

Now this is what life hands you. Moments that are significant enough to
challenge your entire notion of living. Times that really wake you up to
the reality of the meaning of "inner strength" and "mind power". These
times are so moving that your soul cannot hope to avoid its bullet.

Times are wonderful and terrible the same. They are beautiful and ugly.
We cannot face the world without acknowledging the darkness in us all.
The second side to the coin; and you can only view one side at a time.

What is your other side? What has marked your life so that you must face
something wonderful or terrible? How do you embrace it?
Marcelle D. Ward

Light My Path

How soon I forget how much my sanity is worth. How precious my time is.
Honestly, I keep running into the same damn walls...I guess I kinda do
it to myself. Maybe it's Karma. Whatever it is, I think it has to stop.
I have to find a new answer to an old question to save myself the
trouble of being troubled with folks that don't wanna be around me or
find me bothersome. This morning I woke up in a bed with someone who
really didn't want me there. My pride would like to know why, but
another part of me wants not to give a damn. I am leaning towards the
latter.

I guess moving on from relationships is becoming easier. The older I
get, the more cynical I become. I would like to believe I will find a
good thing but I know it's kinda what you make it. It looks as if I
don't want to be in a relationship, when the truth is I would love one.
I just don't want to settle. And I don't wanna be with someone who
thinks they are settling. I want someone to care for me with all my
inconsistencies attached. I want to be able to look at that person and
feel like they love me most; second only to God.

So here we go. On to another realm; another wacky world wrought with woe
and wonder where we witness willingness weeping wildly. (I love
alliteration!) I am willing to let God show me my mistakes and light my
path.
Marcelle D. Ward

The Happiness of Being Sad (What I Found)

Do you think of me as I do you,
As I would hope to dream to do
Knowing that our days have been few
Should I think to see it through?

If I could know of all I need
And see to where my thoughts might lead
A prison gone, prisoner freed
to avoid the pain, shame the bleed

But man I am, immortal not
the things I plan are soon forgot
Ideas are lost, I am caught
In seeking and not being sought

I think of you and I am glad
Of the thoughts we shared, times we had
Talking of the good and the bad
The happiness of being sad

So if there is more, if there's few
If we move on, or if we're through
I find I'm happy to pursue
Thoughts and dreams of loving you.

(I found that I have a fondness for sentimentality, and sadly it permits
me to be too forthcoming at times. But what can I say? Life kind of
pulls us along and we hit bumps in the road trying not to fall or let
go. Who knows what will happen next?

I have read that "there are other worlds than these". I feel that each
time I enter a new job, a new city, a new relationship, there is a new
world to explore. So, here I am again...wandering unexplored terrain.
This poem is both the new and the old me; I am freeing one to be the
other.)
Marcelle D. Ward

The Evolution: D. Swaine

It has been a while since I have sent a message to this blog, but I am
in good spirits. I am finding so much out about myself that I can only
smile and know God is gracious and merciful, and He has so much in store
for me. I am ever grateful for that.

Forgiveness comes to me in a way that I think may be hard for others. It
is easy for me to forgive folks now and I see how stress free I am in my
life. I recall my ex saying something about me not adding my misery to
hers, but she misunderstood me. See, I am never miserable. I am ever
HOPEFUL. Just cause I am disappointed in someone does not make me
miserable. Just because I have no money does not make me miserable. No
job; not miserable. And those of you who know me can attest that I have
not once shown, to any degree, any manner of depression.

I can be upset at someone and still go about my day because I have that
in my heart; the capacity to forgive and love and be compassionate. I
found that my gifts make me happy and using them alleviates any worry or
doubt. I often lose hours designing and creating, so much so that I feel
like I traversed another world. In a way I have, for I have found in me
the Comforter I so desired and he continues to aid me in my
transformation.

D. Swaine is my pen name. From now on I will write under this pseudonym,
that is, if I produce any further literature. But I feel there will be
at least one more book. D. Swaine is also the image of the capacity of
power I have within; the inward manifestation of knowledge and wisdom.

I go forth now as a soldier waging war. I go into battle armed with the
Sword of Truth. My mind is that sword, where God makes all things
possible.

Marcelle D. Ward

The Quiet Storm

"A quiet storm, blowing, through my life...". What's that like? Storms
are of course loud and often dangerous, but I am supposed to imagine it
without the boom? Maybe Smokey was talking about some crazy lady that
brought excitement to his world for a moment and then she was outta here
like Vladimir. All flash and glow and wondrous wind, caressing his
imagination to behold a woman's beautiful ways...

Maybe she is my quiet storm, new and strong and alive, but soon to die
away to make room for another. Very interesting, that concept. I have
had the song in my head all day, accompanying a pinched nerve in my back
and a need for sleep. Maybe tomorrow will be another song and the same
ailments?

I am finding a lot of freedom and I feel exceptional as far as utilizing
my talents is concerned. So alive and full of potential. Glad God hasn't
taken anything away. Hopefully the use of my gifts isn't a quiet storm
as well, here tonight and gone tomorrow.

Ellecram Draw's Journal: The Rough Woman

05/18/09 08:28 am:
In the dream I was in a room full of people, like a party. I was seated
on the couch next to a woman, beautiful and rough in her speech. Her
voice grew coarse as she spoke, yet it drew me in. There was another
woman who was seated on the couch at the opposite side. Her words were
indistinct, but she was talking to me. I could only pay attention to the
rough woman, though. She talked and I listened, drawn into her embrace.
As we were about to kiss, I recognized her for the demon she was, and I
pushed her down into the couch. Her eyes were lightening and she
screamed thunder as the room flickered. Then, nothing. It was morning
and I could hear|see rustling against the door. Rushing to it, I was
relieved to make out the sound of mail being deposited. No sooner than I
had realized such, there was a ring on my phone. Crossing the room, past
the couch, I saw that it was a text message, in bold, which read: I
know. A couple spaces down there was an unread message as well, in
bold, which was but one word: Marcel. Whoever had sent it did not know
me well enough to spell my name correctly. But the message was clear
enough. "Marcel. I know."

Upon awakening my head was pounding; a strange and powerful ache that
forced me to realize the dream meant something. It was a message, or an
omen. I don't believe in coincidence. Something is about to happen...
--
Sent from my T-Mobile Sidekick®

Nights Like This

Nights like this you run away from yourself, hiding in mundane forms of
entertainment that can only sidestep the spiritual ennui felt in the
death of the day. Nights like this are masks to the murder of calling;
the crisp break from normalcy and the departure toward mediocrity.

On my shoulders wisdom rests, wrought with careless abandon and cautious
advance, two sides of the same coin, the same answer from a different
perspective. My world on my shoulders.

Of course this night withers, a night like this dies a decadent
expiration leaving memories fondly shaped and colored, to be held on
another night like this, to die thusly.
Marcelle D. Ward

Trippin' On the Past

Often I am reminded of the past, and I see the mistakes I have made all
roll out in some kind of mental parade, in no certain order, flashing
and spinning like police lights. I wonder if I have done the things I
should have, or just the things I wanted to. I think about "what if",
and contemplate the outcome.

I realize when I have finished enjoying the parade, tears or jeers,
nothing can be changed or regained. I was watching the movie "G" and I
was inspired to write this. Not just because of the outcome of the
movie, but the dilemma the protagonist was faced with. If you could
regain what was lost long ago, are you willing to handle the
consequences? Or, is love all we need, as people say? Is there always
that condition that is left unsaid, that if it is not met, love is out
the door?

The past is concrete, the present is malleable, and the future
intangible. I believe in love, and its strength. But to dwell on the
past love until it consumes the present, will inevitably corrupt the
future. So if you must visit the past, don't wear out your welcome. Make
it a short trip.

God bless.
Marcelle D. Ward

A Phi A on the Yard!

I love my A Phi A. I truly do. Really being an old dog know, I have a
profound appreciation for my brotherhood. No matter the year, it is deep
in my heart, ingrained, chiseled, in the immortal walls of my soul. I
will never forget my what transpired for me as well as those that follow
my footsteps. I am glad to know these brothers who continue to walk
onward and upward toward the light.

So much has changed, and yet it remains the same. Back on Millikin's
campus, it's almost as if I don't recognize it. New buildings, new
businesses and new faces...so wonderful to see. Looks as if Decatur's
trying to become a true college town. Outstanding! Alas I am troubled
because Rich Dunsworth and many of his cohorts are threatening what we
have established here with A Phi A, and all we will do in the future.

I know my frat is strong and will always endure, but it looks like other
people are standing in our way. After speaking with the bruhs on the
yard, I find it really imperative that we see what needs to be done...

I love all my brothers, and I know that I will see many of you today.
Come represent and show your support if you can. 06!
Bro. Trenchant, Fall '97, Theta Omicron Chapter.
Marcelle D. Ward

The World Will Explode

The world is gonna explode, can't you feel the rumbling now,
foundations rattling like a ziploc half-full of teeth, streets look like
crags and mountain peaks? Where people don't walk, they can only climb,
preoccupied with the hustle, the hardship, the prison of the mind?

The boom, the blast will be too big to be heard, likely we won't know
when it's time, there will be no words broadcasts will be terminated,
pictures lost behind the glass, perpetually frightened that the next
breath will be the last.

No heights to be reached, no more wealth to gain, no cost for selfish
thoughts to further a name, cause the world is gonna explode in a fiery
blaze, to raze the land from the demon's hand and banish him to his
cage.

Where will the children gather then, their playtime arrested, their
happiness removed, their future ingested, carrying the seeds of hope for
an unmarked cemetery of blackened dust and smoking incendiary?

The world WILL explode, and only God knows which path will open, who
will walk which road, the chosen few, the forsaken mass, but the last
shall be first and the first shall be last. The world WILL explode, but
here is the key: I can live for Christ because He died for me.
Marcelle D. Ward

The Triple L (Love Life Left)

I used to love what I thought was love like I needed love to love
myself, but the heat of love brought deceit in love now there isn't any
love life left.

A ring, a ring on your bones, encircling a digit, remarkably clinging to
me as it did your own, a ring so I was undone. No stones to fret your
fiendish intellect spent wrapped around a notion that held my potential
in esteem: you dreamt big. Hiding your ugliness under satin and perfume,
I learned never to throw pearls to a pig.

I sing of joyous reunion though, a miracle in crossing my past to grab a
future mine, seeking syllables and phrases to repay you in kind, in
time. Settle for silence and guesswork, the remnants of my furniture
and dress shirts, pieces of mail, old rags, to drape about the hovel of
a lovely nag; a lonely hag.

As we part lastly these words spring forth, bursting and splashing my
screen like water bombs and prolific colorful dreams all-in-one, knowing
a pitiful scheme left with other crippled fellows who knew you well but
vanished the same, I believe I played that same game. Yet you have not
figured it out, and in that I hold pity; in that there is shame.

I used to love what I thought was love like I needed love to love
myself, but the heat of love brought deceit in love now there isn't any
love life left.

Keep it regular, and don't be no sucka...
Marcelle D. Ward

Freedom to Dream

I am about to free myself. Gonna put myself in a hole, a dark cavern of
sightless songs to witness the flight of an eagle before im all gone and
used up. I seek release and freedom is the spark, the arrow, the reason
to embark upon a path to dream, again.

I am going to set my shoulders with a pair of wings and call myself away
from the earthen walk and follow the message in the clouds. I will
gather nothing and want for less, so I won't have to miss a thing. Call
it an ascent, a skyward gaze from a pit of disastrous change, coughing
its sickness.

I am about culture advanced, a subtle dance that lacks form but is
masterful in grace. Freedom in the mind makes for teaching the untaught,
having patience to gift another and perfect love. I am seeing freedom in
my hands holding a phone texting a blog to an unsuspecting few that will
be blessed...
Marcelle D. Ward

The Life of Choices

Making the right choices in life can often be a confusing thing. Seems
we have so many distractions and influences that even a simple decision
as to what to eat might become a tad frustrating. How do we know what
decisions are the right ones? How can we be sure that we are making
monumental mistakes?

Checking our choices and lining them up with God's word will eliminate
that frustration. Will the decision harm anyone? Can you be sure that
you can tell people you love and it will be in agreement with them?
Asking questions like these will help. I can definitely say that I have
made many mistakes, and I like to take risks. Yet, often they have been
decisions that God and my family would disagree with.

It's okay to make mistakes, because that's how we learn. Mistakes don't
have to be repeated, though. Take time and be thorough with what you
decide, especially if you know it will influence others. Consult the
Bible and line everything up with what's good and true, and you may be
on your way to happier results and greater benefits.

Love God, love yourself and each other. You can't go wrong.

Help

I am staying with a friend from work until I can leave for Illinois. So, I am in limbo now, figuratively homeless, hoping that God and I can meet the challenge of reshaping my life once again. Many of you know of my struggle, and have at least lent me your prayers. I thank and commend you for being true friends.

Tonight I was thinking it would be a good time to pray and talk with the Lord. It was an easy thought, given the situation. Yet and still, something remarkable happened. First, as I have said many times before, there is no such thing as coincidence. Second, this is just evidence of God's presence. I was feeling really nervous about my future, uncertain I had made the right choice. Skeptical of what had transpired over the past few days and my ultimate position, I reached for God for assurance.

I felt compelled to seek a Bible verse that would be perfect for my situation. Of course, I had no idea which. Psalms came to mind, but there are quite a few of those. Which one to pick? Well, the number 121 immediately came to mind and I pondered, "What would this one say? I bet it will be perfect for me..." True enough, it was right on target. I had no idea what to look for, but the Spirit of God moved me to the right choice because I trusted in Him. Definitely no coincidence here, God is SO good to give me an answer like this.


Psalm 121
A song of ascents.
1 I lift up my eyes to the hills—
where does my help come from?

2 My help comes from the LORD,
the Maker of heaven and earth.

3 He will not let your foot slip—
he who watches over you will not slumber;

4 indeed, he who watches over Israel
will neither slumber nor sleep.

5 The LORD watches over you—
the LORD is your shade at your right hand;

6 the sun will not harm you by day,
nor the moon by night.

7 The LORD will keep you from all harm—
he will watch over your life;

8 the LORD will watch over your coming and going
both now and forevermore.

Leaving: The Prodigal Son

"Follow the path that has heart. All roads lead to the same destination, but follow the path that has heart."

I read that yesterday, from a friend reminding me of who I am and where I've been. I recall reading those words years ago, before I left for Washington, in a book entitled The Teachings of Don Juan: A Yaqui Way of Knowledge. Those aren't the exact words, but they are close enough. I have mentioned this book quite a few times in my writings, because it had a significant impact on me. Seems I've been away for so long and my mind has been on so many things, that I just lose the focus of what it all means. I'm sure we all have episodes such as this.

I regret that I must leave here, putting behind me many wonderful and beautiful situations and experiences. It is shameful to have to do such at this time, but I have no other choice. The unfortunate times that have arisen make for difficult decisions, though I am no stranger to such. I look to God and follow a path that is intended for very few. Many who know God will acknowledge that if you don't listen to what He asks of you, He will make you listen one way or another. The prodigal son will return once more...

This time is of mourning and celebration; of decay and resurrection. I have much to do in the next year and I hope to God that I am able, for I feel some great things welling up in my spirit. I guess I find jubilation in that fact. God is good, you know?

Another friend reminded me that as we continue to do the same thing and expect different results, we should be dubbed insane. Doesn't that sound insane? Believe me, that's the perfect definition. It's time to celebrate the new, and get back to my roots in Illinois. God awaits.

If you are my friends and you read this, maybe you'll laugh. Maybe you'll have a bit of pity on me. Or maybe we won't be friends at all anymore. The only thing that really matters though is God and what He wants of me.


Let me keep this blog going, for real.

Notes to Self (1-4)

Just stumbled across these...I had pretty much forgotten about them. I emailed them to my yahoo account back in February of 08. Since it's an account I don't use too frequently, I haven't checked it since then! Wow. Well, anyways, it's nice to look back at what we have gone through and be amazed at what God has done. Amazing stuff.


1. February 9th, 2008
Most folks don't understand. Sometimes, I believe that I understand, at least partly. Let's just say that in contemplation of the moment and the interim before its realization, I lose a bit of myself. I think it's because I live in my own little dream, thinking that I can surmount any and everything that this life has set as an obstacle. In many ways I know that I can be so much better than I am...but how am I to get there? How can I accomplish the task of making myself a truly more magnificent being?

I have written about this several times, but since I only understand in part, it's like I am grasping at air, hanging from a precipice hundreds of miles up. But it might be possible that I'm never supposed to understand fully, and that the journey towards the understanding is all that matters in this life. Now, I have found the Lord, and I am better for it, but He is still asking me to do something more. This next action is deliberate and will define the rest of my life. This is the truth as I see it. This is where I am confused. This is where that precipice becomes more real and my life seems to be taking a turn for the worse, and all I can do is agonize and worry as my grip slips.

I could be confusing myself. "Life is not an equation to be solved, but a journey to be experienced."


2. February 14th, 2008
Little is here to misinterpret. I see that God loves me, and that there is a balance that must be maintained between the goodness and the sorrow, evil and good. I see God as an impartial ruler, a loving father who is generous to all his creations. I feel that we receive our lots equally, although some experience different levels of joy on this plane of existence. This is why I am not angry at God for what I don't have, but more puzzled as to what to do with that which I claim. Therein lays the confusion...the "little" that I misinterpret.

I cannot follow this world any longer. It seeps in and out of me, like water to the body. The more I try to interpret, the more I try to hold on, the more lost that I become. I should be better than all of this. Alas, I am walking through the darkness.

If there are those who would follow my words, read my writings and wonder about my sanity, don't be mislead. I am quite in control of my mental faculties. My vision may be terrible, and sometimes my short term memory fails me, but that is nothing that belies concern. If there is a time where my children will read these words in order to comprehend my life, I hope that they will understand that I am only trying set myself apart from this world, and impart a legacy.

If I could but teach it all, right here right now, delegating and authorizing the wisdom I possess, I would. Instead, I catalogue my thoughts in disjointed packs, broken and dispersed with little reason. It is virtually mental vomit, but I am aware that it streams and flows consistently. (there is a vivid little picture for you)

Terminus Est- the point of division, the moment of parting, the end of ends...
Come with me while I gather a tale of nothingness, of walks of dread and darkness, of lighted hallows and haunting sunsets. A living, less lively interim of perplexing madness made from life worked in a circle. This is where the end becomes a beginning of sorts, unraveling a man and revealing what God has proclaimed; what God has ordained.


3. February 15th, 2008
In the end, there will be sorrow. Someday, when I find my true path, and I am able to be at peace with this world and my decisions, I still will remember that sorrow always follows. No matter your lot, no matter your fame or possessions, there will be sorrow. I suppose we are made for it. We are built for the worse that this world could bring forth, meant to surmount every obstacle and meet, with dignity, our last day. I believe that we cannot see God for what and who He truly is without embracing the terror of struggle. There will be struggle, there will be change, and it is always constant. To go against this truth is like spitting in God's face. This is why I know that as I embrace some conservative ideas and positions, I must be able to see that flexibility is needed to live peacefully with one another.

I know that Jesus wanted us all to work together. I know He felt that we should be one in mind, and serve God's design. What is most beautiful about that is that no matter if we feel it or not, we all serve God's purpose. Each life impacts another, each person influences another. We share bonds and break them, we laugh and we cry. Our experiences and hardships bring us closer to one another. Until we are able to agree on what and who God is, we will remain separated as the human race.

And quite possibly, even this life, as it is, is what God intends for us. It makes me reach toward Him, knowing each dark day that follows is gonna be bright once again. Longing to see the sun.


4. February 16th, 2008
I wonder a lot about those folks who do not believe in God. By saying this, I mean God in the most general since: a belief in a grand architect, a creator. It puzzles me that we can look at all we have in this life, all that lives and breathes and is beautiful, and not be moved to understand that God is real.

Some people are hindered in their belief because they cannot understand why a good and benevolent being such as our God would allow such suffering and pain in the world. I can answer that quite easily, I think. Or better yet, I can provide a just explanation.

God is good and benevolent, but he gave us free will. This allows us as people to determine our own fate, regardless of what may be supposed about our lives. But the thing about free will is that it reverberates throughout time, touching each and every person, linking us all together like one eternal quilt. We are tied together because the decisions that we make today will determine the world that our children will be brought up in. Thus suffering is but a consequence of free will, the price we must pay for being able to make our own choices. There is no way to eliminate suffering because to do such would be annihilation; total and complete destruction of life on this planet. God allows us to choose to love Him or not. He allows us the opportunity to embrace His light, or travel in the darkness. There will always be suffering, because light cannot exist without dark, or it would have no validity. There are two sides to every coin. This is truth behind belief in God. I find that people are too thick-headed to humble themselves before God. No one wants to admit that they are wrong, and everyone assumes that they have found the answer.