THE RUCKUS JOURNAL

The ubiquituous internet offers us multiple avenues of finding just about anything. Whether by happinstance or subjective study, you can surf the web. I try to figure out the faces that still read this blog, as it has been out here on wordpress for two years. Finding the faces, or imagining the faces hasn’t got me too far but looking at the top searched words, yes, this may be a doorway into how people can find the Ruckus.

Commonly searched words and phrases as of today, Friday February 26: mercy,  front teeth sore,  women mouth,  proverbs tongue,  in the book the pearl what motivated kino to find the pearl….

Mercy: of course I have written this in many a poems and the banner over those poems I call it Mercy World. Obvious too note also that mercy is a huge part of life in Christianity and a very common word. I think I will continue to stay steadfast in penning poems about rivers of mercy.

Front Teeth Sore: Proabably because of the toothless moments, as in four day of toothless mania and all the videos made in memorial of the greatness of that week.(shout out to ATC!, for making it the best summer ever)

Women Mouth: Well, I do like women, so maybe  somewhere buried in some old post I may have mentioned some great women in my life. Ahhhh…the Mother’s Day Post. Mouth, this could be referring to fist in the mouth as an expression for ‘put your fist in the mouth’ like Proverbs 30, just gotta read it for yourself.

Lastly, the book review I wrote on Steinbeck’s the Pearl has been the most frequented post that I have written. It makes sense that others are wanting to learn more about him; other than me.

And for the 30 faces who, on average, read this blog. Show your face! Let me read your blog if you have one or just give me a shout out. I love meeting new peeps!

Word.

Many angles on this topic. Here’s one that may get you thinking. There will be a discussion after class.

Entertainment

I give you the ink

And here’s the proof.

Comedies, spoof

Mockumentaries,

Thriller stinging

Story lines, character

Breaking points,

Climatic orchestra

Score in the backdrop

On the stage of

Hip hop, pop,

Endless lists of

Must see NBC’s,

Antenna’s steaming

The streaming of

Zenith proportions

Actors distortions to

Imitate the lethal

Weapons of star

Dazzling amazement.

Good verse bad

Has been had

Corruption growing

Exceedingly, excessively,

Spreading like vines splitting

Poisonous vile, these red

And blue lines of pride and glory,

These painful miseries

That paint cinema reality.

We’re all dying to see

It come to DVD.

We’re chomping at the bit

To get it to fit our schedule,

Our four way time table,

Planner, organizer, label

Under garbage, hide it

In multitudes of boxes

in the garage.

Movies about proving who’s

The better man, who will deep

Down do what’s right,

Who own the night,

Loose sight of common

Sense, murder intense

Scenes, heroes chasing

Dreams, these all seem

To flow succinctly

With each other.

There’s no more grey lines,

The rapper delights,

Hackneyed, trite, overtly right

Are the common themes that

Dress the shelves of Blockbuster

And the Red Box return—day after.

Sow seeds, ABC soil, pray to

Almighty that it buries beneath

The path, stores up wrath says He,

Heed My word, eat it, absorb

It like a spunge cleaning out

The sink, we think and think

But still don’t let go of the bullets

That stun, that kill, that keep

Reality surreal

The night is gone and the Day

Soon to appear. We listen,

We watch and We all will

Hear the explosive uprising

Of Christ the thing,

Somewhere between this

Momentary entertainment

And the Second Advent,

I search with my eyes til

They fade into the dark,

Til I can breath and see

Light.

God, you are entertainment,

You are in and to and through,

Wrapped around our weeds in

The concrete world, wielding the

Sword, splitting the atom, The Day

Is surely coming, don’t let it be for You,

I wish I would’ve, could’ve, should’ve,

Keep the cards, throw in the chips,

Empty your wallet, make Him

Your best bet, be aware of

Mindless murderous entertainment.

I am sitting in Peet’s Coffee Shop abutting Dana Point and Laguna Niguel and I am starstruck at how empty my brain feels. Like blood-rushing-adrenaline- pumping-over caffeinated feeling of thoughts and ideas coming together and most of all: inspiration. When it happens, its happens, the things you are so desperately trying to extract and redact melt together like candle wax bubbling over the wick. My story, your story, the story of humanity comes together. The gap between desire and actuality is filled with words, verbs and the tapestry of characters, plot, heroes and villains; it all succinctly comes together.

Its coming, the story, just not right now. Right now there is living and breathing. Right now is what will make the story even greater and better. The overflow of reality into story. It just has to be written. And its no burden when you are born to bring it all together. To curl the pages. To rewrite it and rewire it over and over again. To not stare at the guy next to you penning something of his own imagination but to contend for your arena of creative combat.

After about three hours of starring at my own words saved into files, filed under ‘in the works’ this is what I have to give to you; the reader. There is no pressure,  just desire but painful waiting for it to make sense.

Akin to the mudball fort, this is yet another reflection on the youthfulness that guided me.

AdoLessons

The clustering grass field

We ran through as kids,

The innocence we hid.

The fires we ignited.

No one blamed us for

Getting ahead of ourselves

Ethereal concepts and

Glass elevators brought

Us around this town

We called home.

Make this life mine,

Ownership the priority

Probity through puberty

Growing chin fuzz like

A fresh peach, cuzz what

We wanted was—buzz it

All off to abound with real

Hair, muscles buff a must

To get her attention, it was

Always the topic of discussion

On who’s crushing who in

The game of woo.

Late nights of

Poker disaster,

Dressed our bet

To impress each

Other, Showmanship

Working its best in us,

Tossing without loss,

Mindless, spineless,

Or just endless timeliness

We owned the night,

We set up the fight,

Voices vexing

Abdomen flexing

From all the joking,

Living in the moment,

Here and now,

Future dramatizations

And five years from

Now phantoms,

Each brother, each

Friend, there own

Anthem, the anti

Burgeoning of endless

Communing and

Living each day

On the edge, filming

It all not to forget,

Taping it, replaying,

Redacting, savoring,

Rewinding, gut busting

Laughter, just chase after

Her and see what happens,

Bring it to the table, share it

Like a fable, we are all incredible,

In this forever and together, like

A band of brothers our war was

The future passing us by, time

Controlling our rhymes,

Efflorescence our AdoLessons

We learned how to live beyond

Survive. The chastity, the iridescence,

The constant presence of gleaning

From each other’s experiences.

Our infamous chatterbox spats

Our fireside chats overlooking

Mountains endlessly covering

The mystery of present moments

Drowning past regrets, kids

That smoked them cigarettes

And partied, took the hits

Out of their own brain,

Never did we want to

Point the gun and blame,

We just hid it with gratitude

That Tuesday night bible

Studies fixed our attitude,

And seeds sown would

Later altar altitude

From here on out,

From inside and about

We lived, we made it

Through, we stuck together,

And this is why I write it,

To remember it forever.

AdoLessons that will forever

Be remembered, and skillfully

Secured in the vault of our youth

To all who read, this poem is

Youths’ truth

His Way, His Word,

Words spoken from the dust

Inside, outside, its gonna combust

All around me, you guide Me,

By the hand, you pull back

Storm clouds and I hear

Symphony of

Crowds cheering me

Forward velocity

Towards your generosity

In this time of dire need

8^th day sun rises

8^th month, its

Worth fresh start

8^th day—birth,

New Resurrection

Affection, spread like

Butter on toast all over Me

He is Good Shepherd,

Declares the Preacher,

How absurd to

Not hear your word,

Your commandments

That hide from Me and

Outpourings of Spirit life

Giving abodes of where

You want to dwell in

The swell of My ocean

Motion, rip curl tide

Effect of your words,

Over and over again

Your word isn’t

Hackneyed, but

Blown to bits

Grenade hits

The deepest

Lies, eye salve

Inflammed by

Sties, cool guys

Paving the

Thoroughfare

To the road to

Nowhere, ending

Up in Hell, How

Is this fair?

Numbered hair

On My head,

Trust like dead man

Walking,

Sojourner on this

Body of land,

Wondering and

Abutting limitations

On Almighty God

You said it and I sit on it

On the precipice each

And every day

You word proving

True, paving the way,

Uploading glory to

The hard drive,

Downloading

Redemption story,

Painting it red all

Over this town

Bleeding inside of

Me is the better man

That wants to be free.

And now I see, the

Way you look at me,

The way you stand

Firm, you don’t squirm

When I drown, you lift

Up, put on head golden

Crown, turn world upside

Down, uplift the gasping

Breath seeking for recovery,

The truth is, you have always

Been with Me

And to this end,

I cling to your word

Been thinking about this lately. This opens wide the history and the plethora of people in history that have been unafraid to dream. As believers we have our heroes of faith(Heb. 11, the cloud of witnesses) but even beyond them there are those that have been unafriad of greatness and greatness belongs to everyone who names the name of Christ.

Dreamer

Boxed in

Locked up

Knocked down

Upside stilt

Downward hill

Peace be Still

Give you, My will

Dreams have become

Extinct like rainforest

Species rare discovery

TV reveals this catastrophe

Boxed in religion

Locked up heart beating

Knocked down oppression

Upside stilt guilt

Downward hill feel

The Peace—Be still

Rarely do we take

The limits off the

Odometer

Few and far between

Do we escape atmosphere

Cry for the cheer

Dream with no fear

Tedious are our days,

Mundane, plain,

Bleak streak and

Lonely weeks,

But dreams at night,

Stifled by wrong versus right

And obligation, don’t want to

Miss Him our primary concern,

We’ve lost the weapon, the spears

Against fears, the dreams,

The dares

Boxed in Religion tomahawking

Locked up heart beating, retreating the

Upside stilt guilt remorse coasting

Downward hill feeling we get like

Sledding full speed down frozen snow,

We must remember peace,

Be still and Know that dreams

Are apart of streams of mercy

To get you out of meaningless

Religion, lost the weapon in

The rat race, find the weapon

Of dreams, believe in the

Unseen

Trust and glean

The Mudball Fort, Part 3

When it rains, it pours

When its summer, smores makes

Us remember how fragile life

Can be. I was only 4 foot three

Just wanting to see 10 years later,

Meanwhile dad’s pancake batter

Got us through stormy weather

Mornings of cracked wood burning

Through the century, there was

Jars of Clay streaming in

The background, no frowns

But only smiles at brisk

Summer nights of endless

Bike chases and races

Down rockaway street,

We never were discrete

About who we were hiding

From audacious days jumping

Over six guys as they lay

Down on the jump we built

So high, I never feared I would

Die

When I jumped on the hood

Of your car, mom watched

From afar fearing my life

Ending in a moment of

Adrenaline pumping to

My little nine year old brain,

It seemed so insane,

Yet I would always claim

‘It was the way I was made’

Kicking out of her tummy

Two weeks early, eager

For this life to show me

His glory, mercy that

Showers, follows me from

Eden Praire to loading

Dairy stock at Safeway

He always found a way to

Get to me, either on

TV or through a movie

Across the street from me,

Camped in that field, just

To watch star wars remakes

We froze, for goodness sake

We could’ve just waited a

A week, but no way, we

Wanted a sneak peek,

Wanted to be the first

Ones to tell the Story

At school, of course,

Then it was about being

Cool.

Rubber cement

Stays forever when you spill it

On the carpet, hiding in the

Basement was my only target

To be the only harbinger of

A museum so peculiar it

Was not lucrative, just

Sheepishly invented to

Stand for an accomplishment

For the neighbor kids to get

Some entertainment

Yes, bike chases and races

Yes, museums and movies

Yes, late nights and fireflies

But you want to know what

Made me closest to that

Cry we all have as kids,

The missing we get when

Fragile becomes broken

And the action figures

Let us down, like always

And forever was the endeavor

Of  the Mudball Fort—its shape,

Its size, our war against the kids

From the other side.

We were proud about our fort

Like learning patriotism but

Living it, sticks were thrown

Mud was always good—good

For war. Yes, just kids and yes

Fleeting memory skidding across

My membrane like silky smooth

Rocks hydroplaning off the dock

Never leave home with just one

Sock, and that’s how it was,

One sock, one shirt, one pair

Of jeans, awake early in bed

Nearly never, this was my

Endeavor, to make the Mudball

Fort last forever.

Publish this under forever.

Stack this under never want

To forget the Mudball Fort

During the days I was short.

WordPress deceives us all with the immediate time published. It abrubtly appears after you so rapidly press the publish button. Remember Anita when we were driving in the car that one day and we talked about the prolifercating drive to produce new material. Anyway, before I zone off into sleep; this has been a joyous day that must not be forgotten. There’s the moments that take your breath away and then there are simple moments that can sometimes be overlooked and underplayed. Belayed by the urge to only write about what will attract a crowd and the fads that overwhelm our society; I seek simplicity. Here was my day.

Family is forever, stamped on an envelope, sealed and dealed( no pun intended about my last name). The wide eyes open as the air transends the morning. Love is expected to be felt on this bittersweet day. Images of cupid arrows firing darts into your soul but seriously, a dart, a tiny pointy felt tip pin at my heart that is the transforming device to the avenue of feeling love; no, please no. Cupid is not the point, just a teeny rant.

Arising and waiting for my family to join together. Hoping for warm weather, but expecting layers and layers of clothes and the same three shirts I brought home with me from Kansas City. Sweater vest and all, but most of all engulfed in the presence of the one’s that love me til the end. Escorting ourselves into Trader Joes, slightly sheepish that I go into work on my off day but who can resist such a great place to add to the sundry of picnic nic nacks.

Laughing hysterically at what percarioulsy comes to mind not focusing on time passing or tomorrows chasing. Living sheerly in the moment, owning it, receiving it; resisting its opposites. The fading behind the picnic snacks, each chomp and swallow and watching the bellow of the unpertubed surf. Could we stay here forever, lost in this moment, recording it, owning it. Day passes, glasses get passed; cheers to family. Indelible marks you have left with me; this is greatness, I must confess.

Valentines Day is not about wishing you had someone to be close, its about loving the one’s that have stayed close, faithful, true, undivided. Ones that love til the end. Like Christ and His compassion is the love that we should be spreading. For me, its family forever.

Love, that’s what its all about.

Human Mess, part 2

Abjure Christ

Hands up Heist

This building

Up and down

Abhor what is evil

And abase what sounds

Good but is decorated

In vanity,

Keep your sanity,

Your gravity

Balance on this

Sewn stream of

The outer edges

And whispers

Of  His ways.

Abjure Christ,

You only die

Twice if you

Want back in,

The push goes

The button like

Timothy Hutton

Offering leverage

You got a second

Chance to live

Above average

Abnegate the moral

Decay of one day in

This city, say no

To its vanity

Offering you its

Gratuity,

Snap yourself

Back into place,

Run the race,

Pick up the pace,

Take your demeanor

Of defeatism and die

To the victim in humanity

That wants to change gravity

Yell for help because the rain

Clouds will abode

And explode wherever

You circle,

This globe of life

And lifelessness

Don’t put the bane

On fathers fatherlessness

Wear your clean cut

Suit and tie, this is the

Day you might die

Tomorrow no guarantee,

Must come back to

Abiding in He.

Abnegate self hate

And stifled religion

Set abroad the ship

Of denial

And one guilty trial

Mess that can be dealt

With one single confess

Stay single, stay able

Steadfast, immovable

Ripped to shreds armor

Your gateway to the

Only way out of this mess

Denial like your senile,

Forgotten from sullen

Humans and this late

Night reunion of death

And life,

Forgiveness and light

Abrogate lies and

Human tries

To change velocity,

In life’s destiny,

You can’t change

Gravity, willingly

Subjected to his

Authority

Accept the one truth Christ

Fist a cuffs’ up, hands down

In the heist, abscind from

The worldly world within,

Just say Yes to Him.

The Writer

Creativity, the priority,

Love flowing freely

Into each deep crevice

Of the heart

Causing senses to

Come alive.

As writers live

And leave their

Indelible but

Sensible mark

On society,

Who are honored

By orchestras and

Multitudes of

Receivers, hearers

Of their creative

Flow through

A life time now

And continues to

Grow.

Chasing the wind

That’s what it seems

Like with this pen,

Where do I begin

Is the opening

Question to an endless

Tape recorder of a

Conversation

The wrestle with

Words and adverbs

To attach sentences

And paragraphs and

Signed autographs

On your hat worn

So delicately and

Selectively, you

Pride yourself on

Looking most

Seniority above

Your surroundings

Its grounding

And grinding

It out, its pacing in

Circles over word choices

And principle selections to

Make your art work over

And over again

It’s the absorption

And collection of

Ancient writing,

Passed down from

Generation to generation

And depravation

Of colors and spirits of

Life that guide every writer

The simple desire to

Observe and capture

Moments and fragments of

Humanity, whether pain

Or felicity, handled

Lightly upon your pen

We write the characters

Born from within.

As, even now

I sit with this pen

In hand, my plans

Become so

High and lofty,

My heart, a softy,

Tender and

Selective, my behavior

Without pretense or

False commas and

Unstructured letters

And clauses

Forever born

to be a writer

and my own

author representing

the Love of the Father