The Latest Straight Outta' Denver

A Justification (He did worse to me so you should be grateful) by Darth B'strad
2 comments

This one is for Pam (love is watching someone die) by Darth B'strad
0 comments

A Healing (Come on in and I’ll give you shelter from the storm) by Darth B'strad
2 comments

the womb by invot
1 comment

A gash (this too shall pass) by Darth B'strad
0 comments

The waves down below by Darth B'strad
0 comments

A place (for a friend like this is impossible to find) by Darth B'strad
0 comments

A confession (Let my lips never cease to praise you) by Darth B'strad
3 comments

The Rebellion’s Over, or, 4 Steps to Rock N’ Roll Fame… (or, Generic Clapton) by Distinguished Bean
1 comment

A Pipeline to the Dawn (We dance alone tonight) by invot
0 comments

Older »

A Justification (He did worse to me so you should be grateful)

Posted on January 31st, 2010 by Darth B'strad.
Categories: Poetry.

You have been talking with two sides to your mouth,
and living double lives, lying to everyone–
and most assuredly, you have been lying to yourself.
You have made yourself into something boastful
and have been trying to correct your faults all on your own–
feels kinda lonely doesn’t it?
So just because that guy had done something worse to you–
does that really mean that you are then right in what you did to me?
Did you not see? Did you not hear–
that all sin leads to death?
So why should I feel grateful over what is wrong?
Shall I dismiss God’s standard so that you feel better?
But you have choosen to fight Him with every–
little bit of strength that you have left.
I tried to tell you– but you would not hear me!
And you have placed your confusion–
and instability on me.
For everyone who lives can not see reality to it’s full extent–
and only a fool clams that he knows it all.

You have hurt me, my friend,
you have spoke of me what was not true–
and blamed me for not doing as you have wished!
You have tried to twist my mind to suit your plans,
but you forget that every plan is just a tiny prayer to God,
and He will decided if such plans move or fail.
You must stop trying to justify yourself!
You must stop fighting with Him!
You must stop trying to manipulate to your will,
and you must start giving into His will!
For you will never find rest for you soul–
while you are feeding your own ego.
So you can hate me all that you will,
and keep calling me an asshole
but I will choose to forgive–
for that is the hard road that I have been called to.
Give up your high hopes for a real trust,
give up your ways for the true way.
And when you start forgiving,
you’ll know where to find me–
still right here– doing what I was always meant to do.

2 comments.

This one is for Pam (love is watching someone die)

Posted on January 30th, 2010 by Darth B'strad.
Categories: Poetry.

Pouring out tears as I sat and heard of my friend,
but they were only a sequel of many tears that have come before
and a prequel of the ones that are still to come.
With grief as you name, you have inflicted more pain
as you have taken everyone in the past,
so too, you will take everyone in the present.
And now you have taken my friend, dearly loved to us all
and with much scorn and envy, we curse your name!
You have taken your hold over us
and have made your way.
You have told us what you want from us–
but we will not accept you– I will not accept you!
For in your grasp is only destruction,
only pain, only emptiness–
but I seek the fullness of life!
So tell me, O death, where is your sting now!
For while you have it intact for now,
you will loose you hold on all who live–
and only the ones who love you will keep in your hold.
But just as the sun rises for another day–
so too, you will give up all that love life.

So where can you run to where He can not see?
Where can you hide where He does not know?
All of heaven and earth is His to command–
and your time is growing short, O death.
For He has been made alive again!
And He is worthy of all praise!
What can you, a pity creation of the damned,
make of us?
You have no power over us
and one day we will be justified in our faith.
We will cling to it as dearly as our loved ones,
and whenever you take, you will find your grasp–
slowly slipping away, one by one.
All of the pain that you have caused–
will be wiped away
and all the tears that you have shed,
will fade into non-existence.
You will become empty,
you will become worthless,
you will become nothing,
you will cease to exists!
O death, where is your sting now!

0 comments.

A Healing (Come on in and I’ll give you shelter from the storm)

Posted on January 6th, 2010 by Darth B'strad.
Categories: Poetry.

“Well I see you sanding there
with your head to the ground
wondering if all the toils in your life
have been worth it all.
I see you have a nasty gash on your head–
and you’re still trying to figure out
how it got there.
And I can see you’re the type–
that will just keep on going,
and keep on fighting hard
till you meet your end–
but now you’ve lost your stomach for it
and now you’ve lost your fight.
The road you see ahead
just seems to keep on going–
with no end in sight–
and no pit stops on the way
and you’re so weary and–
you’re finding it hard to take another step.
When all you see is dark gray clouds coming–
and you see yet another storm building,
don’t you just start feeling hopeless?
So you just keep on muttering about–
trying to keep things straight in your head
but it’s hard to see–
with all the blood running down your face.

Well here I am, son,
and I have just what you need.
I brought out the nice car–
just to take you home,
and you won’t have to worry anymore.
I’ll get that gash stitched up for you
and I have just the right ointment–
to heal that right up.
I’ll fix you up some mighty fine stew,
and then you’ll regain your strength
and start feeling hopeful.
Don’t worry about the clouds up in the sky
they’re just having a little visit and–
they’ll move on when I’m done with them.
So please! Just come on in–
and I’ll give you shelter from the storm.
And when you’re well rested up and ready,
I’ll get you right back to where you need to be.
You still have much left for you
but don’t worry–
I’m always here to take you home.”

2 comments.

the womb

Posted on January 2nd, 2010 by invot.
Categories: Poetry, Creative Writing.

I’ve been driving through the deserts
searching for a life to call my own.
Where will I go
when this day is over?
Put another nickel
in the horizons machine.

it appears to me
to quote the highways
like a cloud slowly shrinking
there’s no use in going far

The miles roll back with some effort
searching for a place to call my home.
more was said
than I have spoken
by the graves of travelers
much more defeated than me.

it appears to me
to quote my bad days
like a silent movie screaming
I’ve bound my hands with apathy

1 comment.

A gash (this too shall pass)

Posted on December 28th, 2009 by Darth B'strad.
Categories: Poetry.

They say that you shouldn’t cry over split milk–
and you should heed their words here,
for it is only a fool that cries over things that they didn’t need–
so shed not a single tear over them.
But yet, the death of a dream can be harsher–
than the loss of friend.
For while a person could always take the position of another–
nothing can fill the void in the mind.
Just as the gash springs forth blood
so too, the loss of a dream springs forth despair.
And just as the blood is evident for all to see–
so too, the despair is impossible to hide.
But now is a time to think fast!
Now is a time to keep from dieing!
For if much more is lost here– then life ceases to be possible.
Stumbling about, you grasp for the nearest cloth
only to start choking, and hold in your breath.
For a moment there, you soak it all in, all of the pain,
all of the misery, all of the loss, all of the reality.
For a moment there, you start to take pleasure in the pain,
and start contemplating if you should let all the blood run out.

Choking again! Then you put the pressure down, hold off the bleeding,
say alive, not even quite sure why, just getting it done.
And then the pain starts to subside, and a scab shuts off the flow–
allowing you to actually breath again, feel again, and realizing–
that healing is a far better joy than the pleasure at the pain.
Sure it was harder but now you can move again, walk again, see again.
But yet, now the analysis fires up, recreating the incident, processing–
making maps to the crash that occurred.
And then they bring out the line, not realizing what just happened–
this wasn’t just split milk, this was life threatening.
So then the talks come and much is learned
but yet, it still holds true, that I did nothing wrong here!
For as much as one might talk of what happened
what it really all came down to is– bad luck.
For there were unseen obstacles here–
purposefully placed in my way to mislead me,
where you got out lucky– that they weren’t there for you–
or at least this time.
But it is not a time for hate!
It is a time for healing!
It is not a time for war!
It is a time for forgiveness!
It is a time to move forward,
it is a time to let go of the things you didn’t need,
and accept what you have been graciously given.
For this too shall pass.

0 comments.

The waves down below

Posted on December 26th, 2009 by Darth B'strad.
Categories: Poetry, Stories.

“As she listened to the waves crash on the side of the
cliff, One wave after another
She looked deep into the cloudy sky,
she took a deep inhale of the icy air deciding whether
jumping off would solve all her problems. The air burned her lungs,
As her stomach twisted in knots,
she took a step closer to look over the rocky cliff edge into
the dark waves slamming on the sharp rocks, with another inhale
of the chilly air she decided it wasn’t worth it and stepped back
lifted her angry fist and screamed WHERE ARE YOU!?
Falling to her knees she screamed
Why did you leave me? Why do I have to face this on my own?
I can’t hear you. I cant feel you anymore.
They laughed at me when I told them of you.
But now I’m laughing, laughing at what a fool I was.
Are you real or just some kind of sick joke?
Look at me covered in dirt. I’m a mess!
I cant do this alone. Please! give me a sign, any sign
that there is some thing worth fighting for in this world.
That not every breath is any empty careless breath.
Because honestly I don’t get it. I don’t know what
to feel. I don’t know what to do.
Everything is meaningless, empty. I’m here broken.
“Get up” Why she screamed into the wind “I want to help you”
You, she laughed Help…. me? She laughed bitterly.
You left me broken.
Broken and alone when my world came crashing down around me.
Why should I believe you? With that she stood and turned.
But she turned so fast her foot caught a rock.
Once again her face hit the ground.
Getting up slowly cut from rocks and now a little more dirty
she screamed See I fell again! You let me fall again.
“I do not control you, you are not some puppet with strings.”
Whatever. and she ran, ran as fast as her legs would carry her.
She had no intent on coming back
she didn’t want the people here, she didn’t want the building.
Nothing.
Time to start over. Some where new. With no problems. A fresh slate.
Or so she thought.”

Written by Ally Baltimore

0 comments.

A place (for a friend like this is impossible to find)

Posted on December 10th, 2009 by Darth B'strad.
Categories: Poetry.

Who could have made such a man,
who has set his properties–
and measured the his worth.
Mere mortals can not comprehend
nor come close to fathoming all that the Lord
has set in this one’s path.
For it is not the place of mortal men to say
what stone are to be rejected–
and what stones are to be made the cornerstone.
For if you are to say ” that stone is worthless”
God will build His kingdom on it!
So it is with the Lord– that who He calls to His own
can never be pried away from His grasp!
And so thous that sit in judgment over another soul
will find themselves out of His party.
So how can a man turn his back on a friend
that is in need.
For I tell you– this man that I have called my friend
has helped make me well again,
and this man that I have called my friend
will never be cursed in my head.
It saddens me to say–
that I haven’t been the true friend to him
that I have sinned and been dishonest.
I shouldn’t have listened to the foolish voices in my head
and moved to lead where I was not to lead.
I have sinned greatly, for I have left a friend in the wilderness
when he was already on his path.
I hope that you’ll forgive me.

0 comments.

A confession (Let my lips never cease to praise you)

Posted on December 6th, 2009 by Darth B'strad.
Categories: Poetry.

Forgive me Lord,
for I have done what was wrong in your sight,
I have left your path in search for another–
and kept my pride, allowing it to overcome me.
I have made my way to correct things that
were not for me to correct– and I have ignored
your word and sought out my own answers.
I have made pledges that I can not keep,
to people who seek your will to be undone.
I have tried to speak to thous
who’s ears you have closed,
and tried to guide
who’s eyes you have shut.
For it is far better to hear the curses of the wise
than to be praised by the fools.
I have lost my way, Lord, and I struggle to find you again.
I am worthy of the eternal death,
for there is nothing done my hand
that is worthy of your glory.

But despite these truths,
you choose to bare that death for me–
so that I might not suffer the fate that I deserved
but you have brought me to salvation,
you have brought me to your kingdom.
For while I am weak and lost
you are strong and hold all power.
For my life will be damned if it seeks it’s own praise,
but it will be spared if it seeks your praise.
For you are the one who charted the stars
and set their courses. You have built up
the mountains and laid the foundations of the earth,
you have made the sun to rise and set
so that all will know that you are God
and you hold everything in you hands.
Write this reminder on my soul, Lord,
so that I may never forget you.
Blot out my sins, so that I my give my life to you,
Guide me back to your path, and do not let me falter.
Bring me to your house of praise,
and enable my tongue to praise you.
Teach my heart to forgive
and give comfort to my soul.
For this is not about what I deserve,
but what you have given.

Amen

3 comments.

The Rebellion’s Over, or, 4 Steps to Rock N’ Roll Fame… (or, Generic Clapton)

Posted on November 24th, 2009 by Distinguished Bean.
Categories: Uncategorized.

“Rock and roll is dead. Rock and roll is a museum piece. It has no viability anymore. There are great rock bands today…but it’s a museum piece..They’re just reenacting an old sentiment. They’re channeling the ghosts of that era—the Who, punk rock, the Sex Pistols, whatever. It’s been done. The rebellion’s over”
-Sufjan Stevens

Rock music has branched out far beyond the colossus. The parts per-million of the genre are starting to supercede the meaning behind it. With technological advances, or to the minimalists’ technological burdens, the line has been drawn between those who do and those who feel.
Rock is a substance. Garage band(s) have/has made it simple enough as picking up a rock that seems special and calling it a diamond. Any Joe can pick up a guitar and throw together a band with a simple list.

1)Find every instrument you want filled
2)Let your friend play keyboard and sing, even if he’s bad.
3)Find a whaling/whining (whatever you want to call it) vocalist.
4)Start your national tour.

What good is this? What good is re-writing Adulous Huxley’s Brave New World? What good is it farming on land whose soil has been over used? To put it simply, if you drink thrice times a day from a well of water granting the consumer eternal life, you will live forever. However, your children and friends may not have enough water to drink to keep them going forever.

These, are the do-ers.

1 comment.

A Pipeline to the Dawn (We dance alone tonight)

Posted on November 24th, 2009 by invot.
Categories: Creative Writing.

I made no sacrifice…

The winter shut down like the white lid of a box, leaving the roadside knee-deep in crusted ice. My thoughts were mightless and empty, but as the wind blew as iced as misery, the spaces that rumbled in my head began to care less and less about being fed and more and more about feeling the elusive warmth of home.

I made no sacrifice… and what a poor decision it was to take a walk at a time like this.

A low, pale oblong detached itself suddenly from the darkness of the horizon, spitting forth the reverberate sound of a racing motor-vehicle. The two bright eyes traveling my way looked nothing but onward, then quickly passed to my right.

My thoughts traced back to my friend presently enjoying the warmth of home. He’s an older man and looks it, with common gestures and a spoiled alluring face that frames two quick blue eyes, full of a radiant curiosity. But that curiosity looks nothing but onward, then quickly passes to my right, letting me know with an abundance of words meant for elsewhere that I am no destination.

I made no sacrifice…

…not to him but to her. Because I was too busy standing in his traffic, trying to shine in the misleading warmth of his headlights. Attention never deserved nor wanted, but simply demanded on my part.

And that’s when I saw her, trembling in the midst of another crosswalk just a short walk down the road. When my attention shifted, she appeared illuminated by my stare, and that’s when I realized…

I made no sacrifice to her.

And he made no sacrifice to me.

But back in his room he couldn’t sleep. The image of his destination haunted him.

0 comments.