Shout Out to 1D Fans:

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     I almost wouldn't write this.  I happen to really like just writing... thoughts.  I think voicing is better then preaching.  Thus, that is what I try to do.  But in the past few days I have seen pain, frustration, and hurt that honestly scares me.

     Over Google+ and, I have noticed, a large amount of social media an influx of Zayn, and One Direction, related negative emotion is pouring in. People are hurting.

     I consoled a friend who was falling to pieces over Zayn... And I just... It was so sad. Yes, I enjoyed Zayn. He is cool. And it's sad when a band member leaves. But it's just awful when you realize somebody who meant to give such joy through music... Is now being punished by his fans. He wanted to make his and 1D's fans happy.  Instead some are cutting and and flirting with, and acting on suicidal thoughts. Can you imagine how awful that must be for Zayn? He didn't want to give a lie by remaining in the band when he wasn't happy there. But now fans are disgracing the past 5 years he gave them, by hurting yourselves and wishing to inflict self harm. 

     Please, go to the old albums, cry over him all you want. I get band dedication. I am sympathetic. But don't give so much pain to a man who spent 5 years trying to make you smile! Put down the knives, stop looking for the rope. Remember, he loves you. He gave you as much as he could, and that's all an artist can ever give.

     To feel is to be human. To hurt yourself because of it, is to need help.

Illogical Running

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     Running turns to walking 

     When faced with ice

     So loving should turn to nothing

     When ones treated as a vice

     Yet the heart warms

     Though it may shiver

     So all to often

     The heart slowly withers 

     For it doesn't retreat 

     It simply stays

     When it should 

     have relinquished 

     It's prey

Poem 215 ~ 3/19/2015

Appreciation Package

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     I'm so pleased with how far this has all come.  I started this blog 2 years ago with a simple statement of wishing to write things, because I have a point of view too.  It's awesome to see that people actually like hearing what I have to say.  I cannot begin to describe the thrill I get when I see that I have another view, much less another follower. So... 

     My 200th GooglePlus follower will be getting an appreciation package!

     The package will contain, Swedish Fish, 2 original poems, and an original signed Zentangle.

     I can only ship inside the contiguous United States. Apologies to my international brothers and sisters, I am just not that rich yet. Maybe someday.

     To everyone, thank you! I'm so grateful for how far this has come. I'm almost to 5,000 views, nearly hitting 200 followers, and my posts keep increasing in the amount of +1's I receive.

     Thank you, and may the odds be ever in your favor! 

Shield and Sword

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     With my arms

     I have tried to protect you

     I told you

     Of my joys

     So my wounds

     You couldn't share

     I petitioned to God 

     For him to give you wonder

     My prayers were themed 

     Asking for you to be free

     If I was in pain

     My heart would soar

     Thinking that you hurt not

     That you were innocent

     In my dreams 

     They take you

     And it is I who comes

     When they prepare their knives

  

     I come to you

     And they watch me 

     Hungrily they watch

     And I give myself for you

     I take your pain

     They torture, eat, hold me

     And my only joy

     Is knowing they cannot touch you

     In life I would do it

     I would take pain

     The pain meant for you

     

     It wasn't until now that I saw

     The greatest pain

     My arms can't deflect 

     Is me

     And that eventually I must leave

     My arms cannot shield 

     For they are the pain

     I sacrifice myself 

     But my sacrifice hurts you

     Last night I dreamt 

     They I gave myself to

     And the greatest pain

     Was feeling your eyes watch

     There was no joy

     And your eyes

     They hurt the most

 Poem 89 ~ 3/14/2013

Christianity is?

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     Christianity.  It is something simple. Christianity is to have a belief in Christ. It is a belief in the words of the New Testament.

     So then, why would it ever need be asked, "What is Christianity?"

     In the world their are LDS believers, "Mormons" if you will. They live and worship around the globe. The official name of their religion is "The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints."  I am among this group of people. We all believe in Christ. We read the bible, and those with true faith turn to our Savior as our Reedemer and Salvation.  In every sense of the term, we believe in Christ. 

     When I was around 8 I was informed, by a friend of mine, that I didn't believe in Christ. My young friend informed that my soul was in peril. I refuted her words saying, "I'm mormon. I believe in Christ. We all do." She looked at me and simply stated, "Well your not Christian... So my mom says your going to hell." 

     At age 8 I was confused. Believeing in Christ and his purpose is the definition of Christianity. Thus, I was a Christian.

     As I have grown I have become more able to say with certainty that I am a Christian. Yet, increasingly I have found that my non-mormon friends do not agree with me. Many times I have asked why, and increasingly I have found that... People don't know. They don't know why they consider Mormons "non-Christian." They just know they do. Many parroting, as my friend did, "My parents say!" Or, "My pastor told us." 

     I have learned to accept that Mormons aren't considered to be Christian, among many main stream christian sects. Leaving one fundamental thing to bug me. And that is, I am. I feel and know for myself that Christ is my Savior and Redeemer. Because of this faith, I wish to glorify him. I wish my actions to reflect his love, mercy, and example. I wish to lead others to Christ, and I wish my life to be a reflection of his. How though can others be led to Christ if they do not see me as a Christian? 

     Well... They can, if I have faith. I can live to glorify him, and pray that my works can reflect my Savior's glory. For it is through him, and him alone, that mankind may be saved. I can live hoping that my actions will speak louder then others learned notions. For if Christ is with me, his Spirit will testify.

     No matter what teachings may cloud the human mind, the Holy Spirit can always point to truth, and to Christ. 

Pushed Into Flight

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     I say tweet tweet in the wind,
     The new bird can fly
     Mama bird gives a worm to eat
     I sit and think
     Brother bird sings a poem
     Baby bird sleeps.....

     This is the first poem I ever wrote.  I have no memory of writing it.  I declare that it is my first based off of the fact that my mother remembers writing down my words, and that my Grandpa wrote it down for himself.

     When I had just turned 13 my Grandpa gave me two sheets of paper.  Both together contained a grand total of three poems.  He and I sat together on his lazy boy (myself sitting on my arm rest perch).  He read me the poems with tenderness in his voice.  I listened. When he finished I asked him where they were from. He looked into my eyes and told me that they were my very own words. He told me that when I was 3 my mother called him and read to him these poems.  Careful to get every word he typed them up on his laptop. Now he was showing them to me.  His eyes showed pride.  Pride in me and these poems from the child I had been but don't remember being.

      A couple weeks before this moment, I had been under the impression that I had written my first poem.  It was a silly one, but the rhyme was good and the meter rather fair.  Now he told me that it was actually my 4th poem.  After 10 years of keeping it on his computer he wanted me to have a copy.

     "What for?" I asked.  "Why is this important?"

     I wish I could remember his exact words... but I cannot.  However, the condensed version I retain is, "These poems have a child's emotions portrayed in a natural setting.  Feeling is portrayed.  That is where the beauty lies. In the emotion."

     Only a little bit latter he died.  It was raw emotion. It was pain. And it reminded me of what he said. That beauty lies in the emotion.  And so, I wrote. I wrote my 5th poem. One full of love, longing, pain, and missing. The emotion pushed... and my wings unfurled.  I was pushed into a flight of expression.  A flight that sheds many poems, and helps me process the things I feel.

     Scraps and fragments
     Only pieces are good
     These 200 poems
     They hold shattered, scattered lines
     Scattered lines of beauty
     Pens have wasted ink
     I hope they except apologies
     However I'll keep wasting them
     Because I need to
     I'm a slave to emotion
     Pens, I am sorry
     But you shouldn't be
     So keep working
     Until I need you no more
     Which will be when I stop feeling