A cloudy evening – Short fiction


Character, that’s what I needed to gather all of the bits of consciousness that seemed beyond my reach, there was a slight wind blowing, and the trees occasionally shivered with the gasps of wind, there was a storm coming. The skies were gray, a crow and an eagle swooped in pants, they were rivals, they battled for the rights to swoop in the skies, the crow inched closer and closer but the eagle’s flight was too powerful to give in to the more paddled style of flight of the crow, words belonged to me, but I trembled and I gasped for I was out of meaning, I was like a fish out of the pool. The fresh blue of the upper pool was covered with enormous grey clouds, but I was being possessed by all forms and sorts of feelings as I took in the rain kissed wind, there was something subtly cool and rapidly fresh about the wind, I was reminded of tea leaves drenched and wet, I was reminded of the foamy sea with its syrupy possessed waves, broken, incarnate and eternal.

The interiors of my house appeared to me like the dark blind insides of a skull, I observed the true doctrine of life in all its evangelized servants, wondering whatever it was that they knew that I didn’t. For they seemed unpretentious in their postures, in their hidden repressed anger, in that hardened sense of all adult consciousness with its lack of trapdoors and hidden windows, As always there was too little to feast one’s mind upon, the days of my loneliness now equal almost a month or two, i’m not sure, I have lost my interest in the days, they all appear the same to me. I had subdued rage, and I excessively used Jazz music, that ungrammatical flow of beats, rhythms and blares bored deeper and deeper into me, emptying my ever flustered and rattled consciousness. I sought peace obsessively, for I had all the frantic energy of a restless struggling artiste’ who was yet to uncover his true motif. I was bothered by my excessive normality, my thoughts desired a great deal of spontaneity, and I was tired of using small trickles to feed my gluttonous grandiose imaginations.

I was constantly drawn back to the city, I know that I harbored a deep resentment to its particular nature of reality, to the almost flat, uninspired terrain, and the unsymmetrical swamps of filth, of garbage, of pollution, of architectural overhaul for future attractions that opened up the roads and laid bare and naked the flesh below, I felt that the endless clinically sterile buildings with their infertile nuances of dominion bothered me, but I was drawn to my abode deep in the city, the one that I had run away from. I longed for it all day, I hid my secret longings deep deep in my heart, for not many took the time to understand my dreams. The town was a universe all its own, the controlling powers of the Matriarchs and the Patriarchs reigned supreme in the deep recesses of the town psyche, and that’s why there were such cheap and vulgar attitudes on display among the youth who walked with purposeful stylish strides, a peculiar premonition of darkness lent its fear to the vein of the town. I could not draw myself away from the demons of death that danced with menacing glares beyond the sounds of Wynton Marsalis blowing on the trumpet, and I worried over and over about the burning pits of Hell, and I wept for the great evil that ruled the world. And my family discussed death over food at the dining table, they discussed in morbid detail with overt seriousness accidents, run overs, financial ruin, affairs, family dysfunctions and debts.

Towns were hotbeds of all sorts of mental disorders, and they were in clear display, the most common were the need to exhibit a form of superiority, man’s ancient need to rule reared its ugly head often, and since there was a clear social disparity at work slowly consuming the nature of man, forcing him to behave in reckless endangering ways, and I could sense a great violence that would soon be unleashed in the near future, and the local newspapers printed with indecipherable cheap ink wrote great stories about all the local murder and politics.

Everyday was different, to be conscious of all the spiritual schemes one had to grow aware of in a day, to accept the thesis that Happiness could never be possessed for more than an hour, and to grow accustomed to the fact that people were meant to change over the course and span of each day and linger between tolerable and intolerable, to prepare one’s mind to escape the demonic agendas that infiltrated one’s egoic highway as it streamed into the mind, and to be entirely confident and kind to a world that was in decay and unkind truly obliterated all my happiness. I repeatedly confessed my sins in the chapel nearby, I prayed for my own salvation, and I realized that at the start of each day I attended to its demands with all the strength of a withered, dry flower. I was eternally unsure, I ruminated excessively in my historical shortcomings, I gained more humility by facing my greatest failures and attempting to give a word of insight in similar situations of other people that I had stored in my memory, and I hungrily and almost evasively approached the sanctuary of prayer in order to gain strength to merely function as a living corpse with a barest hint of intellectual capacity.

I routinely skipped the introductions of all the novellas that I read, they seemed rather heavy and elicited the fear that I would never be able to complete my reading expeditions. I avoided the social networks since this particular girl seemed more and more obsessed with displaying her feminist side, she displayed wallpapers with quotes of Jane Austen, from Anne of the Green Gables, from Jane of Eyre, she was entirely convinced that while she wandered around trapped in her hapless existence with her love for all the imaginative escapism offered through expositions of erstwhile upper class society, she somehow made it appear like all the unknown princess fairy tales had been based on her, I had the lowest tolerance for those who spoke ill of Virginia Woolf, normal well adjusted people routinely bored me with all their well planned plans, I had controlled my laughter when a recent classmate had talked pompously about how he liked to plan his day with all the glory of a Julius Caesar. Why did people have such trouble accepting themselves in totality…?? And instead they engaged in creating a complex social persona that was more and more pretentious than it was real, but hey who was I to judge, to each his own.


Addressed to no one in particular…. Incomplete – Short Fiction


I stared out of my window, like I had done all my life, looking outward into the mirage of eternity created by the blushing pink night skies, and all my thoughts seemed to only long and hope like the most singularly love struck man this world had ever seen……I wondered if she really ever thought about me… I hate incomplete things… I detest them with my whole heart… Better to be knifed through the heart than leave things incomplete and hanging in the balance… The way and the manner she had eloped into the veil of the beyond made it seem to me like she had asked me to wait… and then she disappeared to never return… The loud yet stirring prayers of the nearby mosque rose into the air like the smoke from a burning sacrifice, slowly climbing the invisible ladders of the air into the upward reaches of heaven… Why did she speak to me like I was the last person on her mind on that dreadful last day..? Why did she get so hurt and wounded like I had in some unbearable way broken through her easy going heart and crossed a line that was never meant to be crossed…?

Couldn’t she see that I really did care for her…?

I don’t want you to know me… She said, before she ended her final message ,
‘ Don’t try to find me….’ were her last words, of course saying that to perhaps the most unpredictably impulsive person on the planet would
and these lines tormented me over and over, how could she do that to me…?

I had never ever met her, to the very end I never saw her, I never knew her smile, I did not know how cranky she could be in real life and I did not know how she looked like….I really wish that I had it in me to hate someone… Things would have gone much better that way… I had bared all my heart to her,  and then she threw me away like a balled up piece of paper, departing with cold, wicked words that sliced and cut through the heart , and then she slowly vanished, and like the memory of a passing city on a moving train, she moved on, and that was that, and I was left to ponder if we had really known each other. My heart was full of her, I did not know what I wanted with her, she inspired me… she made me want to sit close to her on an empty park bench and just listen to her discourse on overpriced purses, impossible midtown traffic and the silly contents of her dreams.

My writing took a severe hit as I struggled to focus, I speak with all honesty when I say that I could not stop thinking about her,I struggled to write, and my heart sunk deeper and deeper into an unconscious swamp filled with hurt and sad feelings , it was hard for me when matters pertained to the heart replayed over and over with that pain felt deep in the heart. When I say that I am not an ordinary writer dear someone, I mean to say that without my condition I am as normal and boring as a homeless bum with a repetitive vocabulary. I was the Great Gatsby of words, I used grand, impossible words, and I strung them together to make life seem more colorful and vibrant, but I had a secret deep inside, I felt sublime and wretched beneath it all. Every time I introduced myself as a writer, I felt more and more self conscious, my conflict levels were in conflict with each other, and the world before me lost its hold and I wandered its hectic passages with a discouraged, heartbroken heart.

She made me feel so very lost and sad, she made me feel like nobody would ever love me, and like I had lost my one great chance. I soothed myself with mango flavored yogurt and  the wave washed melancholy of Nina Simone’s ballads that further cast a sweet gloomy spell on my cold and weary heart. I dreamt of big blue eyes that held all the magical restlessness of the concealed watery sheets of the ocean, but why did my heart continually ask questions that held no answers..? She was gone, and I had to deal with it, but my heart was trying its best to somehow hold on to her brief stay in my life by weaving her mysteriously concealed face with her imprints all over my delicate heart, she for a splendid moment had walked into my life and cast a vision to my gloomy lonely darkness, but had then broken away with harsh words that were more or less reactions based on the gossip of a third party. Women are such mysterious emotional creatures, capable of burning Rome one moment with their wild and brilliant fury and in the next forgetting in full the length of their insane deeply disturbing acts of madness. Whilst the world walked smitten by their gleaming rich full smiles, I was treated to the dark, tremendous concealed darkness that looked as the depths of the ancient ocean at the gleam of light above.

I was having troubles with my characters, I was having problems since all artists, all writers are supposed to live with characters, my characters were all rather indifferent to me, they seldom opened their souls to me no matter how hard I tried and so I became more and more anti-social, brooding over by the window staring at all the life that had seldom appealed to me, and I wrote lackluster  poetry that were as lifeless as my own concrete un-feeling heart , my great big novel was somewhere out there, my only trouble was that I had to move past the valleys of doubt and torment to reach there.

Right from the start, I was hooked, I mean how could I not be….? She seemed sweet, genuinely interested in me, and though I could not see her, look at her eyes, I was slowly drawn to who she claimed to be, whether they were blatant white lies intended to make me like her or whether they were some unconscious cute girly babble, I was taken in. I quite enjoyed her conversations, and I looked forward to them everyday, I saved her messages and I read over them, she was exciting , she was  fun and I worried that I was losing myself into all her hypnotic contradicting paradoxes, and I felt that irresistible urge to tell her all about my day, I wanted to talk to her about life, I wanted to share my soul, we fought whenever she decided to throw a fit and then she played that game where I run behind her begging her to take me back, and things were fine for a while… but then she stopped…She literally stopped… and in our last few minutes …she seemed cold ,rude and distant… I still remember her parting words ringing deep in my head,  I was a fake and a pretender she screamed through bitter,spiteful text messages. I was just like all the others…. I was just like all the others… I was just like all the others she wrote just before she asked me to leave. And her final sentence ringed over and over in my head, breaking me down, making me hate myself more and more.

She reminded me how man finds it impossible to look beyond the faults that we so often committed unintentionally.She reminded me how people tend to throw and end things within a furious second, and walk away from the burning wreck without so much as a second glance….how the sum of all the words, the feelings, the moments that were shared can just become pieces of glass that float in the streams of blood that leads to one’s heart, what seemed so beautiful and deep was erased in a matter of seconds, and something as indifferent and cold as ‘Life goes on’ is used to look away from all the painful hurt from all the broken pieces that poke and cut inside.  She shared her deepest secrets, maybe not all, but the ones that made her cry, the ones she specially talked to me about which she would rather not talk about in public and I felt her pain, I felt her hurt, and I felt her soul… And somewhere along that line I had fallen for her, I did not care about how she looked, I only cared for her… Nothing else was important, but she had stuck a dagger in my heart before she left, she never wanted to see me again, she had screamed… Never…Ever, Never… Ever.

Too often I utter great truths about myself that I would have brooded over for endless unfruitful hours, I wish to offer each word a tear for all the hardness that I feel affecting me right now as I speak about her who cut me away. I fear the big happy times, since I fear them returning as demons, I fear all the things of this world, noisy over crowded buses, rude girls with severely rude countenances manning boring cash counters, I fear ugly encounters on a traffic conflicted road, I fear the frantic soulless town with endless nameless faces staring with sunken eyes and irate hearts, I fear them all and that fear has become me. I am a fearful creature for all that my heart sets out for deserts me.

We offer so much of who we are to the world at large, I shrink when my close knit world of dreams is cut open and revealed to the glare and the frantic, indifferent, and the impatient stare of day, the world lived on in a hurried animal pace, People had so many compartments, and the more I tried to connect the rooms separated by corridors and lounges, the more disparate and disconnected they seemed. Life is such a restless memory with time meant to make us ponder what could have been and what can never be, I wish that things had changed, I wish that she had stopped her stupid theatricality before interested third parties saw it fit to enter and tear us apart, there was so much sadness to her, she had gone through a lot and I guess I was naive enough to believe that she would at least give me the benefit of the doubt, but things are seldom as they seem, and I really can’t blame myself.. I did the best that I could …. It sucks that I can never let her know how much she means to me… but hey life is filled with disappointments… and from where i’m from this is nothing new or sensational… She made up her mind and left… and I being the fool that I was believed that one day she would come back to me and tell me how much she missed me… A fool can only hope.


Loner Chronicles – Short Fiction


There are some things that I wish to clarify about who I am, and chiefly it is this assumed notion that I possess this quality of sheltered-ness that is often deduced when I speak on the nature of my life’s experiences. In about the third year that I had finally finished my rather dull college course, I fell into a state of great depression and I banished myself away from the world and lived most of my days in a dark, wooden room, on whose windows I hung thick heavy blanets which I hoped would block the light from entering in, the light I feared would expose the great meaningless beat of my sullen heart. And this room that I occupied was separated from the more earth bound floor by a flight of stairs, and I settled myself only to stare at the pitch dark blackness every day for over a year, since it was my conclusion that I would perish as a lost dark soul, whose reflective mirrors were blanketed in deep sullen darkness, incapable of a vision of any sort or form.

And I went about the nature of my life, I allowed myself the company of a notebook and a pen, I recorded my experiences when at times my loneliness thrashed about in an unspeakable agony, and I sunk more and more into my sadness. I occasionally went downstairs for my evening meals, my mother held me in great fear for she thought that I had become a madman, one who had lost his touch with reality. And when I hid myself away deep in that simple room, my mind started to awake, and my mind began to ask me questions that greatly troubled me like a bug had entered the quarters of my heart and was slowly feeding on the blood flowing into my heart. I suffered a great deal during that dark dark time, and I believe I still carry with me the stains of that time, for everytime I smile or laugh a darkness fills my heart, this wont last it whispers unto me, and I dissolve my gladness and instead seek the sobriety of loneliness, and I wondered things about the world.

And thats why I believe I detest the label of sheltered, there is nothing sheltered about me dear sir, all those months upon months that I existed trapped away in a space of no time I ceased to exist, and I pondered more and more like the space of that room, something inside me stilled and I equipped with my dual emotions began to become a room. A room where the windows were shut with thick woolen blankets, and where things could only be felt but seldom seen. And that space held on to nothing, it pondered opinions like visitors, prejudices and the idiosyncrasies of the narrator who had the ability to make a smart inventory of the guise of darkness which he likened to the black pools of an eye which saw the world fixed in that particular corner.

And I began to see things about myself that I had seldom thought, I invited a great many passions, all the women that I had loved visited me to tell me why they had never seen me, all the scars that I had sustained throughout the course of my life explained why they hurt me persistently , at times I stood near the window when the tender sweetness of the evenings possessed the hours, and I became the invisible man who watched over the meaningless motions of human existence, my silence brought forth powerful visions of grandeur, I envisioned my dark room as the resting place of fallen heroes. I encouraged my madness with words of encouragement, I was rare and special, and my deep dark sadness was the emotions of the outsider who felt the human condition on a deeper level than any, but he is cursed forever to be misunderstood, lonely and unloved. The woman who loved him left him, because his soft romantic heart which completely unveiled his utter fearlessness to abandon his all for the sake of love only saw him based on what he didn’t have. Foolish careless women who could never make up their minds, and stupid , obstinate men who were quick to offer advice that no one really cared for.

I dreamt from within the barrenness of that room, the barrenness of the silken black coat became dry and the parched cruelty of infertile soil, and I bloomed like a flower in the wilderness, startlingly beautiful yet cursed to die from the unforgiving sun, but lo I was more transfixed by my soul and its preoccupation with the road, the deserted highways, the intersections and the wooded forest that led to the quivering restless ocean with the dark and heavy clouds. I was a desert bloom with a soul whose sigh was for the freedom of self discovery, but it seemed to create in me a longing that seldom subsided. I could not venture out on the road when I was the tiny little dark room that everyone had forgotten about… How would I walk past the barriers of this exile from self centered existence…?

Message – How do I know for certain ….?


So many of our eyes are blind to our own sinful nature, we externalize our opinions and speak ill of the world when in the depths of our hearts there is immense sin, something that makes us feel a guilt that never ends. In my life I have committed some major blunders, looking back I am tempted to justify some of them, some of them were genuinely not my fault, but there were the others in which I had an active hand, and my heart finds it hard to completely wipe them out. I can only resort to repressing them through my will, but they still managed to arise in my mind since they had become memories, and if one truly observes his mind, memories come and go, they are the windows to the past, and too often it is through these memories that we end up judging who we are, we allow the past to define and fill us up with its bleak and often contemptuous voice. I am the representative of my heart, and I can see things rather clearly, as human beings we are blessed with the power to know and to realize when we commit mistakes and do wrong things. Philosophy would have us believe that it is the objective of the church to make us feel guilty about our wrongs, since all men are born imperfect and commit mistakes from time to time. True, we are all imperfect, but that’s why we need the love and the mercy of an all loving Savior. Man is incomplete in himself, no matter how hard he tries to make and find his way, there will always be a part of him that feels empty and unsatisfied. People are quick to let us know that they have seen genuinely happy people, I concede the truth of that statement, since I have encountered genuinely happy and kind people in my walk. I have come across them in overcrowded buses and I have come across them sometimes in dirty rag filled clothes. But the heart is a grand deceiver, we can never trust our feelings since they constantly change. And too often therein lies our great problem, our loss, for all the hope that we possess which convinces us that we can change the world, we realize too often how little we are in this grand scheme called life, broken relationships help us realize too often how little our love means to someone, Accidents often open our eyes and show us how limited our time is on this earth, I could go on and on, there are so many troubles that afflict and affect us, but are we prepared to go at them through our own strength ( which can be rather limited) or do we seek that strength from our relationship with our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ…?

I know when I do something wrong, and it is not because I was conditioned from a young age to discern wrong from right, it is not something habitual and psychological, ( on the contrary Psychology is a science that is used to understand not dogmatize) when I was young my parents ‘taught’ me the right things in this world. They taught me the importance of compassion, they taught me the discipline of obedience, and they taught me good manners that I have managed to retain. And so the great care that my parents took in order to teach me the ways of the Bible has gained and reaped a fruit that will never depart, I have my own shortcomings but deep down I find the greatest satisfaction in pursuing goodness and righteousness than anything else, I feel the highest power when I do and perform the will of God knowing that I am carrying out his purpose and his will for my life. So many things in the present world are relative, they are all seen as man’s nature, they are either forcefully digested in our minds or avoided since they cause us such personal harm, in the worldly life we either grow completely one sided, or we accept it all with a sense of unease. Our God is a God of Justice, He is not some bearded figure in the upper heavens lying on a throne relaxing in some divine powerless manner, on the contrary He is the very definition of power, but he offers you the fullest freedom, in the words of the my Favorite Preacher Reverend Billy Graham, ‘ I have given you everything, you can choose for yourself, but I will test you, for in order to love me, I will allow you to choose…’ . Our Lord does not believe in overpowering our will and making us his submissive pawns, it is with our own freedom, with our own passion and love that he grows closer to us through our choice. He does pursue us, in the words of the immortal poem, the Hound of Heaven is always pursuing us, but we need to open up our hearts, realize the nature of our sins and realize that we can’t do this all on our own. We need a higher power guiding and loving us and accepting us for who we are. We need God working through our spirit in order to make us a beacon and a light, by transforming our sinful nature he is generous enough to let us partake in his righteousness and thus empower us to face the world with all its deceptions.

If you take the world in its present form today, we see all the great contradictions, in the place of compassion we see violence, unhealthy attitudes, rudeness, arrogance and evil. In the place of obedience we rebelliousness, I consider myself a Rebel too, but my cause is that of Christ, the Bible asks us swim against the tide, but the rebelliousness of the world is self centered, it seeks to destroy the rules and God given laws and substitute them with a freedom where wrongs will gradually be seen as right. And how do I know this apart from my spirit in communion with God…? I know the wrongs only because my conscience is laid bare to God, I can feel Him when I do wrong things, I know for my own self when I behave selfishly, when I justify my actions and when I take things for granted. My God fearing parents taught me the value of things when I grew up and I have deepened that in my heart. In the end, we all walk a lonely journey, despite how the world describes certain things and feelings, the feelings of the individual is where it finally ends. How did you feel when you first did something that was considered wrong…? Would you call that the call of your conditioned conscience or would you call that the voice of your innocence asking you to stay pure and to restrain your mind from creating further harm…? The laws of the Lord are given so as to give us life, and life in its fullest, they do not denounce our personal freedom and invade our space, they are given so that we may acquire wisdom. They are given so that we know how to differentiate the rights from the wrongs, and they are given so that we can enjoy a deep and fulfilling intimacy with God.

Too often our intellect confuses and opens up our minds to the limitless possibilities that are out there in the world. Our intellect is a rather powerful tool, and it can help us in deciding things for ourselves. Our intellect probes and pieces together information and facilitates the process of understanding. But true strength is not offered by the intellect, nor through philosophy, I enjoy them both rather extensively and I consider myself as a student in their schools of thought, but the ones that offer me the greatest clarity are the laws of the Lord. I often find myself reacting negatively since they too often overwhelm me, and I take it rather personally, but that is my personality, I have an independent and open minded nature, and that tends to clash with the Biblical laws. But I realize that I become and attain a much deeper goodness when I obey the words of the Lord completely, and I know their Author, and I don’t believe that he intends to harm me, on the contrary He was the very person who taught me how to love, to care , to give and to teach. So the laws of the Lord are given in order that they may teach us to discern the right from the bad. Dear friend, you may have an opinion about the nature of the scripture, but I tell you from personal experience that too often the greater things of this life open up if we yield ourselves to the process of discipline and correction. For their rewards are eternal and life giving.

Hebrews 11:1
11 Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.

Your Brother in Christ

Message – Of Singing and Rejoicing


I was just moving about on the terrace when my ears picked up the sound of tambourines clanging, and hand clapping and, and the voices of young kids singing familiar Tamil worship songs, and I with all the stains of my worldly wisdom reverted to the philosopher of Ecclesiastes and considered what a futile act they were being taught. For very soon they would be put into a place where all the songs that they sang with such child like joy would be reduced to something commonplace and lose its value to the heart, the world would do its best to intimidate and force feed the real opium of the masses… The great religion of the world… Worldliness , but then I checked my own thoughts, why was I so bothered….? Were they not singing songs that glorified my King and Savior, should I not feel joyous and happy….?

I guess that’s the trouble that comes with living in a post modern world filled to the brim with all the notions of pop culture, from songs to movies we gravitate towards expressions and forms that are more oriented towards style than substance. The things of God have such little place in our hearts and in our minds which gives all the place and attention to the objects of the world but a minimal place to the eternal. Do you remember the simple yet delightful choruses that you were taught at Sunday school or maybe at a VBS program…?? How joyful were our childish hearts back then, we delighted in singing them over and over again, we hummed the tunes when we rode our bicycles on the dusty even road, those songs truly touched the core of our being and we were renewed, and though we did not understand the deeper things of God back then, we found a great joy in singing and memorizing them.

I realize now how those simple lyrics have the potential to brighten up a dreary dark day, I see now how rich in poetry the old hymns that I hardly bothered about are
and how some of these songs are powerful in reawakening our spirit and connecting them to the spirit of God..!

And I also realized how little of an effort I was taking when it came to singing songs that praised God, as an Adult I am conscious of what I am incapable of, and singing makes an appearance on that list. I love singing, but I know that I can never sing as good as I want to sing. Even on the brief occasions that I do visit Church, I am too shy and self conscious to feel completely free when I sing, since I am aware of the people around me and the sound of my own voice. I live in a colony that houses a church, a missionary organization, and a guest house owned by an evangelist for Patients undergoing treatment for serious diseases, so there is always much singing, praying and preaching to be heard.

But how many of us have it in our hearts to truly understand who we sing it to…? Our songs so often become a ritual, a force of habit or something with such little meaning. Songs facilitate a deeper communion with God, when I really understood how much I loved my savior, I could not stop rejoicing in Him, in praising Him and in Loving him with my whole heart. It gave me such abundant joy to worship Him as He deserves to be worshiped… And that my dear friend is the key to worshiping God through song, it doesn’t matter if we have a good voice, or if there are people around us, what matters the most is letting our voices rise up to the heavens as we make known the Awesome greatness and wonder of our Lord and Savior.

I realize that in times of trouble and despair, I could retreat inward and sing these wonderful simple yet deeply touching songs, and I could reignite the state of my Faith, I could re-connect to my Lord and Savior and remember all his great and mighty deeds in my own life and be thankful that the God of all creation and wonders is beside me and will never let me fall.

Psalm 150:1-6
Praise the Lord! Praise God in his sanctuary; praise him in his mighty heavens! Praise him for his mighty deeds; praise him according to his excellent greatness! Praise him with trumpet sound; praise him with lute and harp! Praise him with tambourine and dance; praise him with strings and pipe! Praise him with sounding cymbals; praise him with loud clashing cymbals! …

Isaiah 12:5

“Sing praises to the Lord, for he has done gloriously; let this be made known in all the earth.

Psalm 95:1-6

Oh come, let us sing to the Lord; let us make a joyful noise to the rock of our salvation! Let us come into his presence with thanksgiving; let us make a joyful noise to him with songs of praise! For the Lord is a great God, and a great King above all gods. In his hand are the depths of the earth; the heights of the mountains are his also. The sea is his, for he made it, and his hands formed the dry land. …

Your brother in Christ

Heartbreak Letters – ( This is not addressed to anyone)


It’s over, Yes its all finally over,
You’re free, the world is yours,
Yes I am the coward, I cant love you anymore ,
for I feel like I am losing my mind,
Loving you feels like
I am covering all your kisses underneath my cold contempt,
I only do so because it was you who first betrayed me,
I will leave you before you leave me,
We don’t need any more of our worlds colliding,
By all means have your way, its usually right and if I ask you ,
you’ll probably tell me I said so,
You can have the world, but let me have the stars,
Don’t speak unfortunate stories behind me,
I don’t mean to judge but you have no business belittling me,
I think you were clever in the manner that you utterly and totally convinced me,
You can run back to whom you left,
and carry on like nothing really ever happened,
Look at the stars above, can’t you see the world crashing,
I feel the skies exploding,
Go on, go and burn me down,
I don’t know if I should laugh at the way you let me down,
or if I should pretend like I have never been hurt,
I flushed all my dreams down the faucet,
Don’t wait, go now, he’s probably waiting by the corner of the roadside,
You can hop on behind and hug him or whatever as you both rush on with the wind,
I know that it is not in your state of mind to worry or care about this person called me,
But I just want to let you know that you can leave now,
I’m sorry if I wasted your time, I am sick and tired of all your clever little lies,
Wait, Here is your Medal of Honor, Don’t forget to wear it on your way out
you can leave now, I am about to cleanse out all the venom of your poisonous lies,
I am only someone you move past to get to what really gets you all upbeat,
I am only a castle of glass, Please leave..!

A confession


Hey everyone,

I have a confession to make, I do feel guilty often that I write poetry that seems worldly and Non Christian Short stories, My deepest apologies, I can’t seem to stop it, the flow of stories bother me, I am eternally divided between a few unfinished stories, I do my best to post Christian posts, but I have been having trouble coming to terms with the two sides of my personality, the dreamer and the preacher, Whether or not I end up becoming a preacher I do not know, for only time can tell, but I can attest to my worth when it comes to the dreamer part, that part of me that the good Lord has given to me with all his good sense of Humor… If I tend to offend you all with some of my words I ask that you forgive me, My devotion to my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ remains intact, but the mind is a strange beast, whatever it ponders finds its way to my fingers… That’s about it… Have a great day everyone 🙂 God bless