Just got back from an incredibly insane week with Creekside Church youth on Houseboats on Lake Shasta and had some time while i was there to stick some words together:

To Church

why run after what you can simply choose to be?

oasis of mirage in a sun-drenched desert

dessert of list-filled proportions

served to you on an already full to bursting stomach.


trying to slip the mask of your face over your face

to get you to somehow believe that you can become

what you already are

what the very D.N.A. in your

newly formed person declares you to be

week after week

marching your way to your box

[one size does not fit all]

reserving your spot with the glare in your eyes

before settling in comfortably to enjoy the show

the pretty puppet man with the dancing strings

seems particularly impressed by his exe… exo… skeleton today

outside, in the middle of town

a recovering drug addict is seen helping an old lady to cross the street…

[For some of the other poems i have come up with in 2015, click here]