The Pen

The pen calls me, and I,
its humble servant, answer.
It commands, I obey.
It leads, I follow.
It bleeds on the page,
and it is my duty to ensure
that its life is not wasted.
When it is finished with me,
the pen begs me with its
final breath to sign my
name on the work.
I am unworthy.
I was only the instrument used.

One Song Glory (from RENT)

One Song
Glory
One Song
Before I go
Glory
One Song to leave behind
Find
One Song
One last refrain
Glory
From the pretty boy front man who wasted opportunity
One Song
He had the world at his feet
Glory
In the eyes of a young girl
A young girl
Find Glory
Beyond the cheap colored lights
One Song
Before the sun sets
Glory
One another empty life
Time flies, time dies
Glory
One blaze of Glory
One blaze of Glory
Glory
Find Glory
In a Song that rings true
Truth like a blazing fire
An eternal flame
Find one Song
A Song about Love
Glory
From the soul of a young man
A young man
Find
The one Song
Before the virus takes hold
Glory
Like a sunset
One Song
To redeem this empty life
Time flies
And then no need to endure anymore
Time dies

To the Woman I am meant to Be Part I

Are you ashamed of me?
Of who you once were?
Do you give the glory to God
when you think of how far you've come?
I know that alone, I can't do anything.
That by myself, I would stay here.
Do you feel complete?
Will I ever reach you?
Or are you a goal to be striven for,
and never achieved?

I hold a flame

I hold a flame within my fist
It burns my skin and sears my veins
I sweat and pant with the effort of holding it
But I dare not release it
For the flame would consume me

If you were a we

True love is when you become a we
You may 'love' someone
But you only gave them the most outer part of your being
The dead skin that comes away eventually
You may mourn the occurrance
But you haven't really lost anything
You were still you
True pain is when you were a we
You were a couple
Both combining all levels of your flesh to share one being
Your heart pumping one desire
Your soul living for one purpose: the other
Then your loss is ultimate
If you were a we.

Beauty

Her eyes hold a secret
Willing to tell
If only you could answer
the riddle
of her hue changing eyes.

Her smile holds a single kiss
Not for you
But you would give your life
to receive
that which isn't yours.

Her voice holds a melody
In every word
If only she would speak
your name
you could die happy.

PMS

If God had meant Christians to be bubbly, women would lose their period when they accepted Christ.

Testimony

Show us your scars
Tell us of wounds and pain
We have our own
Or we will some day
Show us your strength
Tell us of healing
Let us know we're not alone
Give us a memory to use
Please don't show your anger
Your tale is not finished
You still have your pain
It is not healing
Don't show us your ugly cut
And tell us how you keep it open
Unless you are willing for us
To open it deeper, and clean it
The tears you show don't have medicine
They are hot and speak of infection
Tell us a story to help us
Or ask us to help you
Otherwise, keep your seat
And nurse your wound.

Junior Camp Counselor Psalms

Lord, give me patience when mine enemies are hurling mud at me with their slingshots.
Lord, let me not react when mine enemies use not my name but some vulgar term instead.
Lord, let me be kind to those who listen not and heed not mine instructions.
Lord, let me be the calm center though all around me is chaos and screaming.
Let mine words hold weight and be carefully chosen to the situation.
Lord, be a gag unto mine enemies' mouths.
Lord, put hobbles round mine enemies ankles when I am desirous of them to stay put.
Lord, let their attention be unto me when I give instructions as a 16 year old cheerleader is to a pretty boy quarterback.
Lord, let them find endless entertainment in the creek and surrounding woods.
Give them not allergic reactions to bites or weeds, for their cries would rise against me and give me no rest.
Let them not find sources of sugar, nor of caffeine, for their energies would have no bounds.
Lord, give me games that shall tire out mine enemies and send them into quick slumber.

I'd move to Wisconsin if it weren't for the bugs

Yes, I am in Wisconsin. I'm helping a church with three weeks of summer camp, and then a with a week of Vacation Bible School. Today is our day off for the first week, and my team and I are at our Project Director's house playing Dance Dance Revolution. Massive sweat break. I had to stop, cause my calves were killing me.

The three days before Senior camp started were exciting. Laundry, Culver's (a Wisconsin restaurant that is just awesome. West Coast needs to build some. They have cheese curds, and custard, and beautiful hamburgers. My team is going to beg our PD to take us tonight.) A Minor league game... oh, and some of us went kayaking in a little lake. The house I'm staying at when I'm not at camp has four boys, but one is helping a camp somewhere else and another was in a traveling singing group until the start of Senior camp and now he's a camper. The other two boys were absolutely adorable. They picked out all these bath stuffs for a welcome home present, and each had a different scent. So cute. And then yesterday was my birthday, so they came to camp with a risque card (they had no idea) and a fishing magazine (their favorite activity) candy, and sponge bob balloons. I love them both.

Our team's name is Elite, and our team verse is Ephesians 6:13-14a. The idea is that we are in a war, and our team's goal for the summer (and after) is to be an elite fighting force for the Lord. We're going to try and get jerseys with our name and verse printed on them. Our mascot is our PD's dog.

Today is a parade and shopping, then fireworks and back to camp. Write more later, working on some poems for ya guys. (I mean liquiddjinn, really)

Cleansing Fire

My lover's eyes

My lover’s eyes aren’t deep as the ocean,
They’re dull and shallow like a mud puddle.
Extremely thin and bony is his shin
His arms, chest, and legs have little muscle.

His lips are the taste of sour coffee
And his hair falls like the grass of the field.
A god’s face is bare, but his grow poppies.
In the sun, not tan skin, but red that peels.

I may laugh at him when he struts his stuff,
But his love for me is sexy enough.

Update

So, sorry it's been so long. Not like everyone's been desperate for my blog to be updated. Before I root around for something interesting to post, personal time.
Maxime lately had some transmission trouble. The kind that strands me at Subway and makes her need to be towed. But it turned out okay. Mechanic found that Les Schwab did a sucky job on my Ujoints, and made them fix it. That was exciting. Seriously. And he found two other things wrong with my car, and the grand total was less than a thousand. I'm happy about this amount because a) it was less than my nightmares of the cost of the transmission alone, b) I didn't have to personally cough up the money, and c) my dad, the one doing the coughing, was okay with the amount.

I have a crush. It's the lame kind, where I'm excited to look in the window where he works and see that he's there late. Just knowing where he is makes my day look good. Go in there and talk to him? What? Why? And ruin my chances, when walking past his window is just starting to work out for me? I know. Like I said, it's lame. A trusted adult recently advised me to start hanging out with boys casually, without liking them first, trying to get them to like me, or having to flirt. Just hang out with them. Be friends. This is harder than it seems, since I'd like to hang out with the boys I like, and try not to hang out with the ones I don't. My subconscious agenda to get a boyfriend is impairing my social skills. *sigh*

Let's see, I've mentioned my car and boys. Anything else? Not really. Is it too late for Spring Break stories about Utah? I could still do those, even though they're a month old. Now to root around and look for something fun for ya.

21st Century Psalms

The Lord is a fully stocked bomb shelter though mine enemies hurl their nukes at me.
The Lord is my semi truck, providing for my needs in bulk.
The Lord is my tire chain, giving me traction on the slippery road.
The Lord is my rest stop on a cross country journey, giving me relief.
The Lord is my air conditioning, keeping me cold while the outside temperature is over 100 degrees.
The Lord is my bowl of chicken noodle soup after a day of playing in the snow.
The Lord is my Air Force One, keeping me in the air while mine enemies bomb my home.

I don't like Idaho

Sorry for no heads up. I'm finishing spring break and went on a missions trip to Utah. Yeah, okay, hope no one gets offended by that. Seriously, it's totally double sided, they talk about their faith, and then I talk about mine. Last year was much more stressful, though I didn't talk with as many people. Quick overview.
Saturday: left Oregon at like 7 am, drove too slowly and took to many stops, so we were still in Idaho when darkness fell. Blizzard hit, and the snow was sticking to the signs, so we couldn't see the mph, which mile we were on, what road we were on. God guided us so that we stayed on the right highway, and safely exited to a place to spend the night (a weigh station). It was freezing, and my neighbor in the van switched spots with a guy I didn't know, so I couldn't cuddle for warmth. We waited until daylight. So cold. And our clothes were damp, from leaving the vans to go to the bathroom, with the snow flying.
Monday-Today: Visited Temple Square, some Institute classes, went to a youth group in the mountains, went to a Praise and Worship.
Now, back in Idaho, this time spending the night in a hotel.

Night, everyone!
Jackie Bird

Me in Southpark

Birth of a Story

After a late night of labor, with tears and groans, my child was born.
I cried with relief, and slept content cradling my baby.
In the morning, as Dawn's light pulled aside the curtains,
I hold aloft my child to the rays and recoil in horror.
My offspring, so loved the night before, is now a source of shame.
Its limbs were deformed, its features missing or misshapen.
It gurgled monstrously, and reached for me.
Reluctantly, I pull it to my breast and cradle it. It is mine.
Excited knocking sends a panic through me.
Hastily, I lay my offspring in the cradle and cover it with a blanket.
Answering the door, I am greeted by well meaning friends.
Denying its existence, I retreat to where it's hid.
Weeks later, I decide to subject it to the public.
I pitied it, I cried over its body
Before I carried it outside and handed it over to them.
They huddled around it, brandishing their sharp knives.
I heard its screams,
And fought myself to keep from breaking them apart and ripping it from them.
Finally, they place its writhing, bloody body in my trembling, wet arms.
I race back into my home, weeping, apologizing to it,
And desperately attempting to bandage its wounds.
Dawn roused us from a painful and sore night,
And I lift my baby out of its cradle.
In the fresh light, she smiled at me.

Extra points to the person who can name the author of the poem this is semi-based on.

Ha Ha, uhm, Nevermind...

I can laugh now because it didn't happen. Not that I didn't THINK it really happened, but now that it's turned out okay, I can laugh. So, misunderstanding, and for all you people who have your car serviced, be sure to leave a phone number that works consistently. There was miscommunication regarding the car, and I feel like a complete idiot. But I couldn't have known, so either, wait 48 hours to report it stolen, and be sure it wasn't, or report it right away and feel like an idiot? I think I was justified in my course of actions, but I still feel like a retard. I totally slept for sixteen hours the next day and went to bed normally afterward. I think I was mourning. Most depressed day of my life. Okay, maybe not Most, but top ten. I went to dinner, and looked at all the people who still had their cars where they left them. I also recognized that I could have dealt with much meaner police officers at each stage of this drama, but I didn't. And I am thankful to God that it worked out like it did.

Maxime's Gone!

She's been stolen! I feel violated. I also feel like a bad mother, like I should have done something that I didn't to prevent it. I cried a lot. Yeah, its an inconvenience to not have a car, but I want Maxime back. I don't just want a car. I've been offered the use of my sibling's car, but I hope Maxime is found before it comes to that. The other car maybe more gas efficient and nicer looking, but I think I took better care of my Fat Lady then they do of their Anorexic Girl. Ah! I'm already using past tense! I did that last night with the police officer. "What was the car's license plate?" Regardless of whether I possess my car anymore, she probably still has her license plates. "What IS her license plate?" Though he wouldn't have thought to use the pronoun. I don't care if they take out the stereo, the speakers, the seat covers, or anything else in my car. I just want the frame and the engine back. Though any tires, seats or windows that were intact would be appreciated. My baby's gone!

Deuteronomy

I feel that there is God’s law, and man’s law. We are subject to both. God doesn’t want us to kill each other. I think that includes war, self defense, and abortion.

If we follow this to the letter, if we are attacked by someone intending to take our life, we shouldn’t retaliate. Passive to the point of being wiped out. Now, how many people do you know will do that? Will stand there passively while the thief breaks into their house and kills their family? No one, right? They will retaliate in some way, even maybe kill the person.

Was this right?

By which law? By God’s law, no. This was murder. You sinned protecting your family.

Will it keep you from heaven? No.

Will it get you sent to prison? Maybe, depending on how good your lawyer is.

Will you have to live with the consequences of your actions for the rest of your life? Yes.

When you die, will you be judged by man’s law, or God’s law? Luckily, when facing God’s law, we have Jesus as our lawyer. And we know the outcome before we even walk into the courtroom.

If you have an abortion, you have killed someone. Was that a sin? Yes.

Will you go to prison? No.

Will you have to live with the consequences? Yes. You will carry that weight the rest of your life.

Will that murder keep you from God’s love? No.

Will you carry that weight in heaven? No.

If you divorce your husband, was that a sin? Yes.

If you remarry, what does that mean? According to God, you are now an adulteress.

Will you go to prison? No.

Will you and your children have to live with the consequences? Yes. So I hope that the situation you left was worth the consequences during their lives.

Will any of this matter in the end? No.